Full text of "Bishop Percy's folio manuscript. Ballads and romances"

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Bi0l)op PmB*0 folio JH^.

a^allaus ann iaomances.

troi. 11.

LONDOi, : FEINTED BY

8P0TTISW00DE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE

AND PARLIAMENT STEEET

.y^

jFolio iHanu0cript

IdallaDS anD iRomances.

EDITED BY

JOHN W. HALES, M.A.

. FELLOW AND LATE ASSISTANT-TUTOR OP CHUIST'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGK
AND

FEEDERICK J. FURNIVALL, M.A.

OF TRINITY HALL, CAMBRIDGE.

(ASSISTED BY Prof. CHILD, OF HARVARD Univ., U.S. ; W. CHAPPELL, Esq., &c. ic.)

>roK m.

LONDON :
N. TKUBNER & CO., 60 PATERNOSTER ROW.

1868.

PREFACE

Corrections.

Prefacf. 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
Iviii ,, 3, Bedde quod dehcs belongs to line 2

note ',/or line 12 read page Ixi, line 2
lix, line 21, /or ser ued read semed
Ix „ 25, /or saves read save
Ixxi „ 2, /or Horn rf«o! 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

THE SECOND VOLUME.

As the first volume was specially that of Arthur and Grawaiue,
of Eobin Hood and his great compeer, now ahnost 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 Llhius Disconias ;
and we have besides, in the present volume, versions of some of
the best of our English ballads, Chevy Chase, CJtilde Waters,
Bell my Wiffe, 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 Wife — 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

THE SECOND VOLUME.

As the first volume was specially that of Arthur and Oawaine,
of Kobin Hood and his great compeer, now almost forgotten,
' Eandolph, Erl of Chestre/ so this second volume is specially
that of Sir Grrey, 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 Lihvus Disconias ;
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 Wlffe — 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

TREFACE 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. P'urnivall :
Come, Come; Conscience; Agincourte Battell; and Lihius 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

THE SECOND VOLUME.

PAGE

THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY . V

ON " BONDMAN," THE NAME AND THE CLASS . . . XXxiii

NOTES Ixiii

CHEVY CHASE .......... 1

WHEN LOVE WITH UNCONFINED WINGS . . . . .17

CLORIS, FAREWELL, I NEEDS MUST GO . . . . .21

THE KINGB ENJOYES HIS RIGHTS AGAINE 24

THE jEGIPTIAN QUENE ........ 26

HOLLOWE, ME FANCYE ........ 30

NEWARKE .......... 33

AMONGST THE MIRTLBS ........ 35

THE WORLDE IS CHANGED, AND WEE HAVE CHOYCES ... 37
THE TRIBE OF BANBURYE ........ 39

AY ME, AY ME ! PORE SISLEY AND UNDONE 43

FALNE WOLDE I CHANGE MY MAIDEN LIFE ..... 46

WHEN FIRST I SAWE HER FACE ....... 48

HOW FAYRE SHEB BE ........ 50

COME, COME, COMB, SHALL WEB MASQUE OR MUM ... 52

THE GRENE KNIGHT ......... 66

SIR TRUMORB .......... 78

GUYB AND AMARANT ......... 136

CALES VOYAGE 144

KINGE AND MILLER 147

AGINCOURTE BATTELL (see Appenclirc^ jp. 695) . . . .158

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

PAGE

CONSCIENCE

. 174

DURHAM FEILDE . . . .

. 190

GUY AND PHILLIS {foT the heghinhuj, t

'ee Apjjei

die,

V-

508) .

. 201

JOHN A SIDE . .

. 203

RISINGE IN THE NORTHE .

. 210

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLJ

. 217

GUYE OP GISBORNE . . . .

. 227

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKB

. 238

LADYES FALL

. 246

BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER

. 253

EARLB 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 COLEBRANDB

. 509

JOHN DE REEVE

. 559

APPENDIX ....

. 595

TWO AGINCOURT BALLADS

. 595

KING ESTMERE (two vevsious, frov

I the 1st

ano

li editions

The Reliques)

. 600

GUY AND PHILLIS {tliQ first cleve7i

stanzas

of)

. 608

COB BIG END A.

p. 9, 1. 68, ,/(/;• armour 7'ead armor.
p. 16, 1. 2bZ,for and read &.
p. 23, 1. 9,/w [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,,/b;- 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 -Jor and read &.
p. 72, note ' : 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 ',/or Strowt yn read Strowtyn.
p. 169, 1. 7, for 1569 read 1659.
p. 164, note ^,/or terme read tenne.
p. 254, 1. 12, for Robert read Eichard.

p. 379, notes, col. 2, for "1867 " read " Bahees Book, &c. 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 EEVIVAL OF BALLAD POETEY IN THE
EIGHTEENTH CENTUEY.

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. n. a

Vi THE EEVIVAL 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
liviog 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 Grothic art, other fruits of the old Eomantic
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 Eomantic in the eighteenth.

A fair criterion of the progress of the century in the re-
cognition of the Eomantic 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. VH

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.
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

Vlil THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD I'OETRY

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 enjoy ers of poetry. Whatever their motives,
let us praise Wood and Harley, Selden ^ and Pepys, Eawlinson,
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,

' Tradition says that Pepys " borrowed "' a part of his Collection from Selden,
and forgot to return it. — AV. 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 ^ 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
l)allads — 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 Eowe. 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
fixbles that are come from father to son, and are most in vogue
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

' Tliis 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 OP 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 Rowe 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 broiight 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 TOETRT

In such an age immortal Shakespear wrote.
By no quaint rules nor hampering critics taiight,
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 Canteybury Tales. There is no obscurity in these words :

Lorde, what is
This worldis blisse,

Tliat 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 ?
Whcdor wyle yc goo ?

XIV THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

Alas ! what have ye done ?

AUe 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 quoe 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,

AVith 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 alone.

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 instructinar. It did not under-

IN THE EIGETEENTH CENTURY. XV

stand the siuorinor 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 ' ballad among them) to which we have above adverted.
Denmark had made collections of its ballads in 1591 and in
lG9o ; 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 Kamsay, a great
student of " the Bruce," " the Wallis," and Lyndsay's works,

' 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, Pojy. 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,
tluit 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. 2%, 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 priate 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 Caledoiiius. This remark is
change is Martin Parker, author of the necessary because Percy has, through-
famous Cavaliorballad " 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 Keaders 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.^ 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 yet 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

' Dr. Farmer ascribes it to Ambrose Phillips. See Lowndes, under "Ballads.''
— W. C.

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUET. XVll

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 Macpherson'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 English 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. ^ About the same time Gray was
writing his Welsh and Scandinavian pieces.^ At the same time
Chatterton was striving to satisfy the new taste that was
spreading with forgeries of old poems.^ The first decade, then,
of George III.'s reign is most memorable in the history of the

' 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 moeurs et usages des an- toth these editions, the " Long Story"

ciens danois etc. Co2yenhague. 1765-56. was omitted. Some pieces of Welch

Les Monumcns de la Mythologie et and Norwegian poetry, written in a

de la Pocsie des Celtes (ti'ad. des Edda) bold and original manner, were inserted

Guvrage 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. Brvnet. ' Published in 1777- He died Aug.

Percy's translation was published in 25th, 1770. His first article, purporting

1770. — P. to be the transcript of an ancient MS.

^ In 1767 he [Gray] had intended a entitled " A Description of the Fryers'

second tour to vScotland. At Dr. first passage over the Old Bridge,"

Seattle's desire, a new edition of his appeared in Farley's Journal, Bristol,

poems was published by Foulis at Oct. 1768. Venny Cycl. — F.

VOL. II. 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 furc&, tamen usque reciu-ret.

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, duU-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 helle of
balls. It was about the year 1760 when the possibility of so

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUKY. 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.
The)'- 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 Runic 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

XX TUB KEVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

to give the Curious some Idea of the Taste and Sentiments of
our Ancestors and their Manner of Writing, by the Eev. 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 ver}^ 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^
Parlour: being used by the maids to light the fire." " When I
first got possession of this MS." he sa3^s 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.

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, Gfrainger, Steevens, Farmer,
and by others of still greater and more enduring note — G-arrick
and G-oldsmith. At last, in 1765 appeared Beliques 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 feiu 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 hopiug 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

XXll THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETIIY

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 importimity 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 a,n
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' G-ordon,"
" Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard," endurable, to reconcile

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXH1

the reader to their rudeness, such charming chaperones should be
assigned them as " Bryan and Pereene, a West Indian ballad by
Dr. Grrainger," " 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 da}'^, was returning to St. Christopher's and his
mistress.

Soon as his well-knowii 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 toueh'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 baste, 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 ceutury ago, for the barbarousness of the
other components of the Reliques.

This barbarousness was further mitigated by an application
of a polishing process to the ballads themselves. Percy per-
formed the ofiices 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 CENTUEY. 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 I—
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 sofhething 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 Groldsmith's ballad to Percy, " and he (as we both

considered these things as trifles at best) told rae, 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 youtli,''^ writes Percy to his

XXVI THE KEVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRf

publisher in 1794, " that, had it not been for the benefit of niy
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 ; CKartophylax 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 reduciio

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXVil

ad absurdum 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."
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 I wyll 'prove
That faythfuUe 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 lore but you alone.

XXVm THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

■AtlCl, I thinke nat nay

Biit 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.

Eead these high passionate words, and think of Johnson's
criticism.^ 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

Keprove 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 : v

' Cf. Mr. Gilpin's (Saurey-Gilpin, an the same woman whom the Rake dis-

artist, 1733-1807, )remark,(7^j««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 T^^th.(!l:^x'n.na.t\^xal, and the moral certainly

more proper to the occasion. This is culpable."

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUET. XXIX

The tender infant, meek and mild,

Fell down upon a stone ;
The mirse 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
recoo-nised the well-known, though long-negflected, 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 jo3'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 EEVITAL OF BALLAD POETET

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 Vercys 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
too^ether. which were not common occurrences with me, I boug^ht
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."

ON "BONDMAN,"

THE NAJVIE AND THE CLASS,

WITH REFERENCE TO THE BALLAD OF " JOHN DE REEUK,'

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 hondmian in English till about 1250
A.D., taking that as the date of the Oiul and Nightingale :

Moni chapmen and moni cniht
Luve)> and halt ' his wif ariht ;
And swa def) moni hondcman.
{Owl and Nightingale, 1. 1575, p. 49, ed. Stratmann, 1868.)

The earlier word was honde, and the earliest the Anglo-Saxon
honda, 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 ceod ;
its immediate derivation is from O. IST. bfiandi, contr [acted to] bondi,
villicus, colonus qui foco utitur propvio ; part. pres. used substantively
of at bud. Goth, gabailan 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.

' MS. Cot. hiad.
VOL, II. C

XXXIV

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,* though no doubt
at a later period this sense prevailed over the Scandinavian
one. Mr. Wedgwood says under Husband :

From Old Norse hua (the equivalent of G. hauen, Dvi. hoioen, to
till, cultivate, prepare) are hu a household, farm, cattle ; buancU,
hondi,^ N, honde the possessor of a farm, husbandman ; Jmsbond or

' bondi (d. i. boandi = biiandi, dcr
Sonde, freier Grundbesitzer, Hausvater,
pi. boendr mariti. — Mobius.

" 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 dekision. For
Bound, the true word is hunden, and for
a Bond, bend." Mr. Earle also rejects
the derivation from bond, and the mean-
ing " one bound." Mr. Thorpe says
that Ettraiiller (p. 293) questions the
biiandi, bondi derivation, but without
suflBcient grounds, in Mr. Thorpe's
opinion. Haldorson accepts it " i?o«c?i
m. paterfamilias (quasi boandi, buandi)
en Husfader, Husbande, L. Colonus,
ruricola, en Bonde, Sforbcendr prsedica-
tores (Bonds with a large house and
extensive groiuid), Smaboendr villici
(Bonds with a small hoiise and little
yard)." Mr. Skeat notes " Bosworth also
gives Bicend, bugend, bugigend, as mean-
ing an inhabitant, a farmer, from buan,
to dwell, cultivate. This comes nearer
to the Dan. and Sw. bo)ide as regards
etymology, though it is not so near in
form. Cf. A. -Sax. biian, Moeso-Goth.
bai(an, gabauan, to dwell, baiiaijis, a
dwelling-place. The Gr. bauer, peasant,
is the Du. bocr, and our boor. It is
curious that the Du. botr, 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-
Cjiience 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 Prankish 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 Atigustinus
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 regiilated 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, Eihte se legitimum matrimonium
Bd. 4, 5 — Jew wedlock, marriage, sew-
boren lawfully born, born in wedlock —
cew-brica m. wedlock breaker, m. an adid-
terer, sew-brice f. an adultress, eew-
fsest-mann marriage fast-man a wedded
man, a husband ; sew-nian to wed, take

ON " BONDMAN.

XXXV

Inishand the master of the house,
^-illager, clown.

Dan. bonde peasant, countryman,

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 fi-iSes-bote, swa ])am hondan si selost, ■] ]'am fedfan si
laSost. — ^tlielredes Domas, vi. xxxii.^

So concerning " frithes-bot, " as may be best to the proprietor and
most hostile to the thief. — Ancient Laivs, i. 322—3.

a wife— sew -nung wedding, marriage —
sew-wif a wedded woTiian. — Hus-Lunda,
— 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
jiassage is in all the Anglo-Saxon MSS.
of the Gospels, except the interlineary
glosses. The A.-Sax. is a literal ver-
sion of the Augiistinian MS. in the Bod-
leian Library, Oxford \_Code.T. August.
857, D. 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 Eede 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 3IS. Camb. li.
2, 11,] hate te arisan and ryman ?am
6(5rum, the householder bid thee rise and
maJcc room for the other. Notes to Bos-
worth's Goth, and A.-Sax. Gos. Mt. xx.
28 ; J). 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 ; fp.
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 i^erson or agent is denoted by

adding a,* as bytl a heimm'r, bytla a
hammerer, anweald rule, govirnment,
anwealda a rxdtr, governor, — bunden,
bund bound, bunda, bonda one bound,
a husband. Bunda might be banda, as
well as bonda, for a is often iised for o,
as monn for mann a man. The early
use of hus-bunda, -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 bua to dwell,
part, buandi boandi dwelling, nor even
from the cognate A.-Sax. buan to dwell,
because the u and 6 are long in the
Norse bua to dwell, buandi, boandi
dwelling, and the A.-Sax. biian to dwell,
buende dwelling, biiend, buenda a
dweller, while the u 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. Buan 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-biiend
071C dwelling alone, a hermit ; ceaster-,
eg-, eorp-, feor-, fold-, grund-, her-, ig-,
land-, neah-, sund-, woruld- and j?e6d-
buend."

' 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 Inst,
of England, vol. i. p. 280.

* To a substantive, not a verb or participle. — P.
c2

XXXVi ON " BONDMAN."

Again, in the same sentence nearly repeated in Cnutes Domas,
viii. (Canute died 12 Nov. 1035) " ]?am bondan, for tlie pro-
prietor,'''' p. 380-1. At p. 414-15, Cnutes Domas, Ixxiii.

Conjux incolat eandem Sedem quam Maritus.
LXXIII. And ]>ser se bo7ida saBt unwyd ■] unbecrafod, sitte f wif -]
pa, cild on fan ylcan unbesacen. And gif se honda ser he dead wsere,
beclypod wgere, ponne andwyi'dan ]>a yrfenuman, swa he sylf sceolde
peah he lif hsefde.

And where the hushand dwelt without claim or contest, let the wife
and tlie cliildren 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] wses sume mila o66e mare beheonan Dofran .
]?a dyde he on his byrnan . and his ge-feran ealle . and foran to
Dofran . ]>a> hi pider comon . ]>a, woldon hi innian hi |i£er heom sylfan
gelicode . ])a com an his manna . and wolde wician aet anes bundan^,
huse, his unSances . and gewundode ])one Imsbundon . and se lius-
hmda ^ ofsloh Jjone o6erne. Da weard Eustatiws uppon his horse .
and his ge-feoran uppon heora . and ferdon to ])Sin husbundon . and
ofslogon hine binnan his agenan heorSse . and wendon him ]>a, up to
piBre burge- weard . and ofslogon segSer 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

' bundan, ge7i. sing, good man, 1048. plode the " moral-etymology " of a Ams-

Glossarial Index. band being so called because he is the

^ The equivalence of the husbimda band or binder-together of the house,

with the bunda here is enough to ex- even if Dr. liosworth be right.

ON " BONDMAN." XXXvil

"vvent then up to the guard of the city, and slew both witliin and
without more than 20 men.

In a passage in Hickes the (no doubt) free hunda, paying a
fine, is contrasted with the tkrcell who gets a flogging :

And jif hwa Sis ne jelseste . ))onne jebete he ■p swa swa hit jelajod
is . hunda mid xxx pen. Srgel mid his hyde . fejn mid xxx scilh — From
Hickes's Dissertatio Ij])istolaris, p. 108.

And if any one does not perform this, then let him make amends
for that as is laid-down-by-law : the honde with xxx pence, the thrall
with his hide, the thane with xxx shillings.

Thus far then the evidence — for I do not admit Boswortli's
*' one bound " as right — points to the honde 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 honde 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." ' Still, this vassalage was no hondage 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) be 60 shillings. Anc. Lmvfs, 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 " burli"-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. cliaral. A freeman of ignoble rank, a churl, twy-
hinde man, villanus, illiberalis.

Tivyhynde (Man), a man whose ' wer-gild^ was 200 shillings.
This was the lowest class of Anglo-Saxon aristocracy. Tivelf-hynde

' Hey wood's Distinrtions in Society. 1818, p. 325.

XXXviii ON " BONDMAN."

(Man), a man wliose wer-gild was 1200 shillings. Tliis was the
highest class of Anglo- Saxon aristocracy.

The slave was a ]?rceZ or ])eoiv. Mr. Thorpe considers ]»xd
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-widenmg whirlpool ; day by day the freemen, deprived of their
old national defences, wringing with difficnlty a precarious sub-
sistence from incessant labour, sullenly yielded to a yoke which they
could not shake off, and commended themselves (such was the
pln'ase) to the protection of a lord ; till a complete change having
thus 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 aiixiously
desired than a needy and unsafe freedom ; and the alods being
finally surrendered, to be taken back as heneficia, under mediate lords,
the foundations of the royal, feudal system were secui'ely laid on
every side. — Kemble, The Saxons in England, vol. i. p. 184.

The very curious and instructive dialogue of ^Ifric numbers
among the serfs the yr^iUng or ploughman,' 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 N^orman conquest. If he passed into the
freeman,^ 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 vu'tually
confined to Norfolk and Sufiblk, 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.

' This should be compared with the ^ Had ho not always been free?

second extract from Havdok below.

ON " BONDMAN. XXXIX

The mentionof villan brings us to the Conquest' 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 " 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^ of the
villein with the ceorl or tvAhynde 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 LundoniceMke
that quoted above from the Anglo-Saxon Laws ^ " makes it

' Of the name i>iZZrt?JMS Serjt. Heywood ranks of society as freemen, 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 Conqueror, and Henry the first. the Saxon geneat, and that the word

Among the Saxons were many words ceorla does not occur in the whole docu-

descriptive of persons engaged in hus- ment."

bandry, as ceorls, cyrlisc men, goneats, ' De gentis et legis honoribus. Fuit

tunesmen, landsmen, &c., but the pro- quondam 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 entos populi honore digni, quilibet pro

see the next paragraph above. sua ratione ; comes et colonics, thanus et

^ Mr. Pearson says we must " under- rusticus (eorl and ceorl, thegcn and

stand it with the reser\^ation 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 terrfe, ecclesiam

others were distributed in the different et culinam, tiu'rim sacram {hdl 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, wera 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.' — Ileywood, 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 Wilham 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
postea 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 fru-nish 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 diflBiculty vanishes
(p. 300).

iitrii sedem {hurhgeat scil) ac officium habere quinque hidas de suo proprio

distinetum {sunder note) in aula regis, allodii &c. ib. p. 185.
ille tunc in posterum sit jure thani ' Eodem modo per omnia de cyrlisci

{th'ffcn rihtas) dignus. — Hiywood, p. vel xriUani wera fieri debet secundum

184. Text. Knff. 46 has for colomis of modum suum, sicut de duodecies cen-

the above, villanus. " Et si villaoius ita teno diximus. — LI. Hen. i. 76 ; WUkins,

crevibsct sua probitate, quod plenitcr 270, in Hci/wood, p. 29-5 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); soc-men
(E 23,072, M 23,404) ; freemen, holding by miUtary 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,'
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

' Heywood draws a distinction be- &c., who are generally mentioned after
tween the villans and bordars, cottars, them in Domesday.

xlii ON " BONDMAN."

England sontli of Hnmber, though it Lad enjoyed a singtilar 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 pardhigi (probably bondmen inferior to
the villans) hujusmodi viles vel iiiopes personce, 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).^

And it is (I believe) precisely because Edward I. made a
resolute attempt to break down this power of the barons over
their villans,^ 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^ — 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

' Villani vero, vel cocseti vel pardingi inquiries of tins Commission the first

vel qui sunt hujusmodi viles vel inopes chapter of the Statute of Gloucester,

pcrsonse, non stmt inter legum judices relating to Liberties, Franchises and Quo

numerandi, unde nee in hundredo vel AVarranto (by what warrant the Parties

ccmitatu pecimiam suam, vel domino- held or claimed) was founded (ib.).

rum suorum forisfaciunt, si justitiam ^ 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 Eageman.

termino competenti, 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

sestimatis. — LL Hen. i. c. 30; Wilkiois, 248, go throughout the Land to inquire, hear,

in Hcywood, p. 292. and determine all the Complaints and

* 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 imderstood

had defrauded the King and grievously as well of outrageous Takings, and all

oppressed the People (Annals of AVaver- Manner of Trespasses, Quarrels, and

ley, 235) Hundred Rolls, i. 10. On the Offences done unto the King and others.

ON " BONDMAN." xliii

his own ' and after times. His steps and his blows came nearer
tbeir 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 " first thoroughly consti-
tutional " sovereign. This I gather from one of a series of
interesting articles on the " Rights, Disabilities, and Wages of
tiie English Peasantry" in the new Series of the Laiu 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 sutferance and by local nsage, 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 wi'it 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 Coui-t of Common Pleas. —
Law Mag. 1862, vol. xiii, p. 38-9.

We need not attribute a long range of foresight, or very enlight-
ened \dews of freedom, to the counsellors of Edward I. Their re-
sistance to villenage was instinctive rather than dehberate. 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 (^;our le commonly proclaimed throughout their

aUcgaunce dd poeple^ -AmX s^aeAy eTienM.- 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 imto the same Justices ; or in other manner, shall come before

& this is to be understood as well within 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 Songs for the Camden Society.

xliv ON " BONDMAN."

supported "by immemorial usage would soon he tipset 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 vs^ere 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 ' is
justified in his adduction of the following instances^

The clu^onicler 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

Yor he preiseS ])ene vuele, & before, for he praiseth the wicked

his vuele deden, ase ]>e ]>e seiS to and his evil deeds ; as he who

]'e knihte ]'et robbed his poure said to the hniglit that robbed his

men, "A, sire! hwat tu dest jjooj- vassals, "Ah, sire! truly

wel. Uor euere me schal ])ene thou doest well. For mew ought

cheorl pilken & peolien : uor always to pluch and pilla.ge the

he is ase J^e wi^i, f>et sprutteS churl ; for he is like the willow,

ut ])e betere ]Ket me hine ofte which sprouteth out the better

cropped." that it is often cropped.

— Ancren Jliwle (? 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 e'on dist ne-me-touche,
Mal en orelle, et mal en bouehe !

{Bes XXIII Manieres dc Vilains, Paris, 1833, p. 12.)

' Paper on the political condition of Middle Ages, in Archcsolot/ia, vol. xxx.
the English Peasantry during the p. 205-44.

ON " BONDMAN." xlv

" Wliy should villans eat beef, or any dainty food ? " inquires the
writer of Le Desj-iit au Vilain ; "they ought to eat, for their Sunday
diet, nettles, reeds, briars, and straw, while pea shells are good
enovigh 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 stilV— 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 ^
type, but I look on it as certain that the lutter 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

' On the property needed for a Nor- and as the Chronicle declares, " he

man villan to marry on, see the tract twisted, crushed, tortured, tore, impri-

DeV Oustillenicnt au Villain (xiii' siecle) soned and excruciated them." See also

Paris 1863. Henry of Huntingdon's account of

^ 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 tho
poor Saxons serve him on bended knee, eyes of his own children, when in sport
and then in requital burned their hoiises, 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." {Farnir.)

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 ont of
memory of man. And villein in gross is where a man is seised of
a manor, wherennto 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
holdeth 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 out 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 6.

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 prcedandwm servitium incertum et itide-
tennmatwm, uhi scire non pottdt vespere quale servitium fieri debet
mane, viz. uhi quis facere tenetur quicquid ei prceceptuni fuerit
(Bract. H. 2, fo. 26, Mir. ca. 2, sect. 12) as before hath beene ob-
served (vid. sect. 84).

He says also at fol. 121 6.

Things 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
' 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 Archcuol. vol. xxx, quoting
Madox's Formulare Anglicanum 318-418,

The abbot and convent of Brneme sold " Hugh the shepherd,
theii' naif or villan of Certelle, with all his chattels and all his
progeny, for 45. sterling ; " and the abbot bought of Matilda, relict
of John the physician, for 20s., " Richard, son of William de
Estende of Linham, her villan, 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 HI. (1216-72 A.d. his reign) Walter de Beau-
champ gi'anted by charter " all the land which Richard de Grafton
held of him, and Richard liimself, with all his offspring." . . In
1317 Roger de Eelton gave to Geoffry Foiine 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 Cowel's Institutes: "Villaines
are not to marry without consent of their patrons." — W. G.^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,^ that whatever the lord took from him, he had no remedy
against the lord for.

Sect. 189, fol. 123 6. 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 :

Eor 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 ^, 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

' Cp. the extract from Chaucer, p. - See the quotation from his Hand-

554-5 below. ^yng Synne below.

xlviii ON "eondman."

Ellis. After a longish quotation from Blackstone's Commentaries
upon the villani, he says {General Introduction to Domesday
Booh, vol. i. p. 80) :

There are, however, mimerous entries in the Domesday Survey
which indicate the Yillani 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 ofi" in a pecuniary point of view. His place in society
was marked also by the obhgation to give " Thac et Thol, auxiHum
et merchet, et in obitu melius catallum." {Thac was " Pig-money,
a payment made by the kalians to the lord in the autiimn 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
comiDanions by Hengest and his :

Earlier text, 1200-20. Later text, bef. 1300.

>er wes ot Salesburi J>ar was a bond of 8alusburi,

an oht bonde icumen ; J)at bar on his honde

seune muchelne mfein clubbe ane mochele club,

he bar on his rugge. for to broke stones.

The earh'er text Sir F. Madden translates :

There was a bold churl ^ of Salisbury come ; lie bore on his back
a great strong club.

In one of a series of interesting articles on the " Rights,
Disabilities, and Wages of the Ancient English Peasantry," in
the Laiv Magazine and Eevieiv, 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 Vere several [27] tenants, [four of
whom are women,] described as Boiidi, bondmen, ^ 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 8d., 20 eggs worth -^d., and a
quarter of oats worth 12d. He worked for tlie lord twdce 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
tbis man was an operative tenant. ^

Haveloh the Dane comes next, and in it the bondman is the
peasant or ploughman:

Thider komen botho stronge and wayke ;

Thider komen lesse and more,

That in the borw thanne weren there ;

Champiouns, and starke laddes,

Bondemcn with hero gaddes,

Als he comen fro the plow ;

TJiere 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 lyxies,

' Ceorl is used in the book in the gallinaw, & valeret iij d. ; xx. ov« q?<«

general sense of OT«M. valent oholum [|d.], & j c^vuvterium

2 ?Bondes, who might be freemen. aven« quod valet'xijd., & facit a fosto

Thoy are given between the Cu-tomary S«??e/i Mich«clis nsque VQutccostam, etc.

Tenants and the Cottars. —2 Hundred Bolls (ed. 1818), 425,

^ Bond/. Hugo Eugc tenet xvi. acrfls col. 1.
t^rro in villenagio, & dat j aMcam et j

VOL. II. d

1 ON "BONDMAN.

But boiidemen, 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, bonde 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 hene,

Baroiui and bonde, the clerc and the knyght.

(MS. Harl. 2253, leaf 64.)

In 1297, taking that as Eobert of Gloucester's date, he says
of William the Conqueror and his ' high men : '

Hii to-draweth fe sely honde men, as wolde hem hulde ywys. —
ii.370.

which the latter reading giv^es as

Hii tormentetli hure tenauntes, as hulde hem they wolde.

Again in one of the Lives of Saints, said to have been written
by Eobert of G-loucester, is this passage :

If a hondeman 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.)

Eobert 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 \o\\e\> }>em.

{Hojidlyng Synne, 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
house and homestead (manor) were near the churchyard,
into which his herdsmen let his cattle, and they defiled the
graves. A bonde 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 churles shall in earth be put,
Earles, churles, 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
shotdd 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,
Kobert of Brunne asks — he is not here translating Wadington —

Lord, how shul jjese robbers fare,

pat J^e pore pepyl pelyn ful bare, —

Erles, knygtes, and barouns

And oilier lordynges of tounnes,

Justyses, shryues and baylyuys,

pat J>e law^s alle to-ryues,

And ]>e pore men alle to-pyle ?

To ryche men do )5ey but as J^ey 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 rj'che men, weyl wers 30 do !
Ye wyl noun houndes to hem lete,
But, 3e self, hem sle and bete.
He ne dyde but wernede hym of hys mete ;
And 3e robbe al Jjat 36 mow gete.
Ye are as DyT,ies hat wyl naghte 3gue ;
And wers : for 30 robbe Kat hey [the poor] shulde by lyue.
(Handlyng Synne, p. 213, 1. 6812-19.)

In a previous passage the lords' arbitrary exactions from

' hjT are but fewe lordes now Lordynges, — hyr are ynow of ho ;

hat turne a wrde so wel to prow ; Of gentyl men, hyr are but fo

But who seyh hem any skylle, [few].

Mysseye a3en fouly hey wj'lle

ON "BONDMAN.'

men in bondage — or vileynarje as Wadington lias it — are ex-
pressly mentioned :

And 3yf a lorde of a tounne

Robbe his men oute of resoune,

>oghe hyt be yn bondage,

A3ens ry3t he dolje outrage.

He shal so take ]pa.t he [the bondman] may lyue,

And as lawe of londe wyl for3yue ;

For 3yf he take oner mesure,

Lytyl tym^ shal hyt dure.

I'oghe God haue jeue \>e seynorye,

He 3af hym no leue to do robborye ;

For god ha^ ordeyned al mennys state,

How to lyue, and yn what gate ;

And >03t he 3yue one ouer o>er my3t,

He wyl J>at he do hym but ry3t.

J'ys ys >e ry3t of Goddys lokyng :

3elde euery man hys owne J'yng.

But God takej> euermore veniaunce

Of lordys, for swych myschaunee,

For swych robbery }>at J'ey make,

Jjat ofte of J>e 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 \>e{te ry3t wj'kkede ys . . .

Namly • pore men for to pele

Or robbe or bete wy>-oute skyle.^

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 })urth eche euratre of \>[ king-riche
J>at barouws burgeys & bonde ^ & alle o^er burnes
>at mowo wi3tly in any wise walken a-boute
J^at )>ei wende ■wi3tly as wide as )>i reaume.

{William atid Werwolf, p. 77, ed. Madden.)

In William of Malvern's * Vision of Piers Ploughman, about
1362 A.D. we have:

' especially. * Mr. Hales's name for the author of

reason. the Vision, who is sometimes called

' 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, 77- — 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,
epecifying.— Skeat.

ON " BONDMAN.'

Hii

Barouns and Burgeis ' and Bonde-men also
I sauj in J'at Semble. — (p. 6, 1. 90, ed. Skeat.)

In "Vv light's edition of the Vision, i. 88, 1. 2859 is —

And as a honde-ni?in of his bacon his berde was bidraveled.
And part of the knight's duty is —

And misbeode >ou not j^i bondemen • ]>e beter f^ou schalt spede.

(Pas. vii. 1. 45, Vernon Text, ed. Skeat, p. 76.)

In the third text of the Vision we read — ■

Bondnwn and bastardes • and baggers children.

These bylongeth to labour • and lordes children sholde serven,

Bothe God and good men • as here degree asketh

And sith, bondemcnne 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. Visirm 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 ^ as the equivalents of
c/ieHs 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.^

The year 1394, or thereabouts, gives us that wonderful
picture of a bondeman or ploughman whom its painter satv,

' 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 liem.

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 nou3t abene.

Beo al Ffrance Ich understonde

Thei tok & slou3 hem with heore
honde
The power of Ffrance both smal
and grete,
And brou3t ther Kyng hider to bide
her bonde.
And nou ri3t sone hit [the ship]
is for3ete.
Myrc's use of honde is this:
Fyrst J'ow moste J>ys mynne.
What he ys J)at doth ^e synne,
Whe)>er hyt be heo or he,
I'onge or olde, bonde, or fro,
Pore or ryche, or in ofiF^s.

(Ab. 1430, Myrc, Instructions for
Parish Priests, p. 47.)

liv ON "bondman."

and which will not be out of the mind of anyone who has
studied it :

And as y wcnte be i>e waie • wepynge for sorowe,

[I] sei3 a sely man me by • opon pe plow hongen.

His cote was of a cloute • i>at cary was y-called,

His hod was full of holes • & his heer oute,

Wit> his knopped schon • clouted full bykke ;

His ton toteden out * as he }>e londe treddede,

His hosen ouerhongen his hokschynes • on eueriche a side,

Al beslombred in fen • as he y>e plow folwede;

Twey myteynes, as mete • maad all of cloutes ;

pe fyngers weren for-werd • & ful of fen honged.

pis whit waselede in i>e [fen] • almost to \>e ancle,

Foure ro^eren hym by-forn • ^jat feble were [worsen] ;

Men mY?te reken ich a ryb • so reufull jjey weren.

His wijf walked him w\\> • wijj a longe gode,

In a ciitted cote • cutted full hey3e,

Wrapped in a wynwe schete • to weren hire fro weders,'

Earfote on )pe bare ijs • ]>«t J>e blod folwede.

And at ]>e londes ende laye • a litell crom-bolle,

And \>eroTi lay a litell childe • lapped in cloutes,

And tweyne of tweie 3eres olde • opon a-no \>er sydo,

And alle J^ey songen o songe • ^at 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 . Scrvitus.

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
Eichard 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 Archmol. xxx. 235.)
And that the Lord's power over his bondman existed into the
16th century is shown by the following extracts.^

' It is a wjTies occupation, to wiywMwe hay, corne, and sxiche other. ? 1523.

all manner of comes, to make malte, to ■ — Fitzherbert's Husbandry, ed. 1767,

washe and wrj'nge, to make heye, shere p. 92.

corne, and in time of nede to helpe her ^ Mr. Wright says, " We can trace

husbande to fyll the mucke-wayne or these charters of manumission [of vil-

dounge-carte, dryue the floughe, to loode laus] down to a very late period. In 2

ON "BONDMAN." Iv

In 1519 among- the Duke of Buckingham's payments in Prof.
Brewer's Calendar, iii., Pt. i. p. 498, is —

25 March, to Walter Parker, 40^, " restored to liim for a fine by
liim made to me, for that he was my bondman, and made free dming
his life, for that I gave him a patent."

In 1521 on

" The Duke's Lands . . at Caurs (in Wales) are " Many homhnm
both rich and poor. — ih. 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 ca?He with hym in his voyage royall accordyng to their
degre. And to honovirable men he gaue/ lordshippes/ maners/ landes/
and tenementes/ with all the inhabytau?ites/ men and women dwell-
yng in the same/ to do with ihem 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 thet^i to occupye their landes and tenementes in tyllage and
toke of them suche rentes j 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 honde men. and sythe that
tyme/ many noble men bothe spirytuall and temporall, of their godly
disposycion/ haue made to dyuers of the sayd ho}ide men manu-
missions, and gi'aunted them fredome and lybertie. and set to them
theu' landes and teneme?ites 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 honde men contynue as yet/ the
vs^hiche me semeth is the grettest inconuenyewt that nowe is suflTred
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 theii- lyfe tyme/ to be
so taken/ lyke as and it were extorcion or bribery. And many tymes

Eic. II., just before the peasants' insxir- 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 lier, A.n. 1 419, and another by George Nevile,

witli her liberty, her goods and chattels, lord Bergevenny, as late as 2 Hen. VIII.,

and the liberty of all her offspring : and a.d. loll."

Ivi ON "bondman."

by colour therof/ there be many fre men taken as honcle 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 Mode. And that
is moost commenly ' where the fre men have the same name as the
loncle men hane/ or that his aimcesters of whome he is comen/ was
manumised before his byi"the. 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
non facit exceptionem personarum. For god maketh no excepcyon
of any person. — Fitzherbert's Bohe of Siirveyeng ^ Impromnej\.tes
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
suiFered, 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 exasfoferated 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,^ 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 Rogers
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 honde and bonchman question I conclude then, though
with much diffidence, and acknowledging the insufficiency of the
evidence for some points : 1, that the honde 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-

' It must be a mistake to identify him with Sir Anthony Fitzherbert.

ON "bondman." Ivii

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,^
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. WrigJd.)
But our bondman was John tlie 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 Laivs, vol. i., and
section 12 of the Institutes of Polity, in vol. ii. p. 320-1.
The office of Reeve was one that every villan was bound to
serve, and although the Laiu Magazine says it was one which
tlie villan rather declined and avoided,^ 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 jNIS. Boke of Cartesye
says of the greve or reve —

Grcntys, and baylys and parker,
Schone come to acountes euery yere
Byfore ]>o auditour of ]>o lorde onono,
pat schulde bo trew as any stone,
yf he dose horn no ry3t lele,
To a baron of chekker Jjay mun hit pele.

{Babecs Book, p. 318, 1. 589-94.)

And as William of Malvern says —

' The name seems to have 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- '^ 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 taille 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 imdortaking 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. tf" Rev. xiii. 41.
Survey of Kincardineshire, p. 213.

Iviii ON "BONDMAN."

I make Piers the Plowman my procuratour and my reve,
And registrar to receyve.'

Ecdde quod debes (v. ii. p. 411, ed. Wright).

And again —

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 roUes ;
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 swj'n, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrie,
Was holly in this reeves governynge.
And by his covenaunt yaf the rekenynge,
8yn 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 gcve and lene him of his owne good,
And have a thank, a cote, and eek an hood.
In youthe he lerned hadde a good mester ;
He was a wel good wriglit, a carpenter.
This reeve sat upon a well good stot,
That was a pomely gray, and highte Scot.
A long snrcote 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 ^ as
well as dues and rents,^ he ought to have been a good scribe and
summer-up, but the ballad does not read as if he was. His

' See the extract at the end of this ' TouLmin Smith's Parish, p. 506,

paper, line 1 2 from foot. refers to a rentcharge paid to the King's

''■ 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 Keeve's food then ? I trow not.
Chaucer's Frankeleyn couldn't have given a better spread in
Richard II.'s time, and John Eussell's Franklen in Henry VI. 's
days (ab. 1450-60 a.d., say,) hardly exceeded it:

A Fesf for a FrajiMin,

" A Frankleii may make a feste Improberabille,
brawne -with mustard is concordable,
bakoii ser ued with pesofi,

beef or moton stewed semysable,
Boyled Chykon or capon agreable,
couvenyent for J>e sesoii ;

Eosted goose & pygge fuUe profitable,
Capon / Bakemete, or Custade Costable,
when eggis & crayme be gesoS.

Jjerforc stuflPe of household is behoveable,
Mortrowes or lusselle ar delectable

for >>e second course by resoii.

Than veel, lambe, kyd, or cony,
Chykou or pigeoii rosted tendurly,

bakemetcs or dowcettes wit/* allc,

Y&ri followyngc frytoAVTS, & a leelie lovely ;
suche Sfruyse in sesou?t is fulle semely

To SCT-ue v/ith bothe chambur & halle.

Theii appvils & peris -with spices delicately
A-itur J>e terme of J^e yerc fulle dcynteithly,
with bred and chese to calle,

Spised cakes and wafurs worthily
withe bragot & methc, j^us meii may meryly
plese welle bothe gret & smalle."

{Babccs Book, p. 170-1.)

Ix 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, Cah. Hist. iv.
11, referring to Eymer). Only in bacon, boar, and capons
could the king have come up 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, Strang, 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 ivorse, 1. 668-9, hieele 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 loi^, 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 ihow put the capil in the lathe ? '

and Brockett's in his Glossary of North Country Words,

Lathe or LeatJie, 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.

' The Prompforium gives " Berne of speaking of the partition of England

lathe (or latheP.), i/o«-e;(;«," 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 ^a;'A, as they coniecture." " Horrcumest

counties," Lade, horreum, Dan. Skinner locus uhi reponitur 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. Orrcum, granariuvi, lathe." — Yo-

says that Bp. Kennett notices it also as cab. Eoy. MS., 17, C. xvii. Way.
a Lincolnshire word, and that Harrison,

ON "bondman." Ixi

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,^ that John the
Keeve 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 11

BoniiHi. est sperare m aonuno qiieiji et sperare
[1532.]

The Banckett of lohan the Reve. Vnto peirs ploughman. Laurels
laborer. Thomlyn Tailyor. And hobb of the hille. with other.

[leaf 2-]

[A] relacion maide. by hobb of the hille vnto Sir lohan the par-
iche preste vj^on A coiHminicacion. Betwene. lacke loHe Servyng-
man of thone pa/iie. And. lohan the reve. Peirs plowghman.
Lawrence Laborer. Thomlyn tailyor. And hobb of the hille of thother
partie. Wherin the said Sir lohan wold maike none Awnswer vnto
he knewe the olde vecar mynde. the wiche saide vecar wi'ote lyenge
in his bedd veray seeke. and deljTie/-de hys mynde ia wrytynge. vnto
his pai-iche preste. And the said prest delynerd the same booke to
hobb of the hille. counsellynge hym to learne it. wherebye he myght
be more able to maike better Answere to suche light fellows if he
channced to here any suche CoHaninicacion ia tyme to comvae.
Hobb of the hille said vnto sir lohfm .;. Good morow Sir lohan .;.
And he Answered .;. Good morrowe hobb .;. Hobb said .;. Sir lohan I
am vei-ay glade of oui* raetynge .;. For I am desit^ouse of your coun-
scUe in a weightie matter Sir lohaii said. Marie ye shalle haue the
beste councelle that is iu me .;. What is your matter Bie my faithe
Sir .;. yesterdaie My master \lcaf 2 b.] and lohan the reve maid a
feaste. And piers plewghman. Laurence laborer. And Thomljni tailyor
was at dyner at our house, And I se/iied them at dj-ner. And or
halfe dyner was done. co>»me in a Servynge man called lacke loHe.
Rent getherar vnto my ladie. For my master lohan the reve was
Receuor this yeare : And when Iack[e] loHe was sett downe. He
demaunded whether we had any messe or no .;. And my master saide

• I ought to apologise for its short- the delay named, I have set do-wn
coinings. 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 ijack men and with Early English may
four months. Feeling obliged to say guarantee,
something on the question to excuse

Ixii ON " BONDMAN."

we hadde, and trustede to haue .;. Than saide lacke lolie that we war
blynded for waunt of teachynge. for it is plane ydolatrie to boleue
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 Marty% luther. Eocolampadius. Caralstadij. lohan Firtz
Malangton, with many dyae?'se other .;. Than peirs ploughman waxed
woundi'us Angi'ie. and called lacke lolie. fals heritike. Than my
master desired them bothe to be content in his house, and to reason
the matte"" gentlie. And thei warre bothe contente So to doo.;.

Ixiii

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 Richard Sheale, does not mean that Sheale was the
authcyr, but the scribe. So one of the Piers Plowman MS., (Harl. 3954)
ends — qiiod 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 gcntil day" as the
following one ; bvit that is, in fact, the title of another ballad or song.
Dr. Rimbault. Musical Illustrations, p. 1.

p. 6, Battle of Otterhourne. See Mr. Robert White's full account of it, with an
appendix and illustrations. London, 1857. — F.

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/ail huckes.—Q"^. ( = 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 vnconfined wings. Tliis version is very corriipt, and inferior
to the printed copy of 1649. 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,

Ixiv NOTES.

p. 21, Chris. See my communication to Notes and Queries, 3rcl 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, &e., as Percy says, we find " Hollow, my Paneie : " 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 Angus's regiment,
when he was a student in the College of Edinburgh, and 18 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 seine 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

Eiding in a red rocket,
Did tidings tell, how Lunsford fell,
A childs hand in his pocket.

The same child-eating scandal is noticed in Eump Songs, pt. i. p. 65 :

From Pielding and from Vavasour,

Both ill-affected men ;
From Lunsford eke deliver us.

That eatoth up ehildi-en.

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,
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, Howfayre shee be. The earliest appearance of this song of Wither's was
in A Descri2>tion of Love, 1620 ; then again it appeared at the end of Faire
Virtue &c., 1622, unless the undated sheet in the Pepysian Library be older,
which is more than possible. — Hazlitt.

NOTES. IXV

p. 52. 1. 2, read hollydom. (halidom) ; Note the rhyme. — Ch.
1. 3, omit /.— Ch.

p. 53, 1. 12, Percy is right, and Mr. Chappell wrong : the rhyme is with braines, not
squai-e. — Ch.

1. 19, drouth, for rhyme, as Percy suggests. — Ch.

1. 25, drop o/", 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, wy.sc should be coyle : compare 1. 2. — D.

1. 34, for of read 07i. — Ch.

p. 54, 1. 42, read (award : 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. G-ascoigne 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. }py. — Ch.

1. 146, 147, read inaye, hlin ; (transpose the ; and ,). — Ch.

p. 64, 168 (he had sayd nothing), qy. hcWi (i.e. so have I Me). — Ch.

p. 65, note 4, read Egil8so7i : braid is well enough explained by the A.- Sax. h-cedan,
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 aU.

Dunbar. Eeliq. Ant. i. 206.— F.
The line describes Bredbeddle's wife, not Sir Gawaine : see it referred to iu
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. 478, the
rhjTne 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, I. 461, throe : rightly explained in note. Icel. \>rdr has the same meaning
as thra in G. Doug. : and so Sax. )f>red, 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

Ixvi NOTES.

p. 86, 1. 177, noe more, read noe moe. — D.

p. 88, 1. 211, some spending money. The author must have wi-itten something like
7noneyfor spending.— J). Head money for spending. — Ch.

1. 214, you heyre, read your heyre. — 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, /owe should he foe (imless in the concluding line of the stanza ^'oe be
an error for gone). — D.

1. 402, read go[7i]e. — Ch.

p. 98, 1. 523, other = second : of. 1. 496.— Ch.

1. 534, soe bee, read soe beene. — D.

p. 99, 1. 666, " for to his graue he rann " ought manifestly to be " for to his mas-
ters graue he rann " : compare 1. 543. — D.

1. 567, ved^A. 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, i)i the crye, an undoxibted error for in the stowre. — D.

p. 113, 1. 964, was past, read was gane, ov 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 »we. — Ch.

1. 1305, feelds, certainly /eZ/s. — D.

p. 128, I. 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 Historic of Guy Erie
of Warwicke, &c., by S. Eowlands ; 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.— T>.

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) denlalyd.—Ch.

p. 146, 1. 3, EM. " The Duke of Buckingham's Manifestation of Remonstrance, with
a Journal of his Proceedings in the Isle of Ree, 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 Eayedition to the Isle of Rhe, by Edward, Lord Herbert of
Cherbury. Edited by Lord Powis for the Philobiblon Soc. 1860.— F.

p. 147, Ki7ig and Miller, the first known edition was imprinted at London, by
Edward Allde \circd 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 differen read different.

p. 163, 1. 13, 1

IRQ 1 72 f 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, hurms 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 Lnpe, 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 Eohin Conscience, ? about
1550; and AUde's edition before 1600, printed in Halliwell's Contributions
to Early English Literature, 1849, and with 4 additional stanzas inHazlitt's
Earli/ Popular Toetry, 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 Intcrtainnient of virtewus men that
lacketh Ryches, ^c, and Martin Parker's Robin 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 1635, 8vo., 11 leaves, Bodleian. (Burton's Books) Hazlitt' s Hand-
hooJc. — F.

p. 186, 1. 49, read denidc.—QA\.

6 2

Ixviii 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 Evangelistge, hora lA^eitutiria ix. commissum
fuit bellum inter Anglos et Scotos uon longe a Dunelmia, in loco ubi nunc
stat crux vulgariter dictus NeA-illcrosse " Poema rhythmicura, [leaf] 241.
Harl. Catal.

p. 191, 1. 2, hearken to me a litle [while ?] — Ch.

p. 199, 1. 245, read brother, (" to the King of ffrance " is a marginal gloss). — Ch.

1. 245, &c., brothers should be brother; and the words to the Kmg 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 " Discendauts 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 Tm-chil, who lived at the time of the Conquest." Harl. MS. 853,
leaf 113. Mr. Halliwell in his Descrijjtive 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 Pilgrimac/e, ed. 1630, p. 140." Dr. Rimbault
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 higrauen 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. 6 from foot. Nephew to the Laird of 3Jangertonn (misprinted Marger-
toun). This reference to the nephew of the Lord of Mangorton, 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 2()th 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 oi 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 gane or gaen (i.e. gone). — D,

1. 6, (of Maitland) read anc for and. — Ch.

NOTES. Ixix

p. 217, 1. 14, Juts 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 vuin ? (Percy has laird, but that reading is not likely
in this English ballad). — Ch.

p. 235, note 5, " and ddend." 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.—T). (?— F.)

1. 64, . after " flBght."— 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 Bay, 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 jnn.

John Gilpin. — Skeat.

p. 306, 1. 43, ivadded. Surely the context, " gaule " and " greene " and " black."
shows that " wadded " should be " watchet " (i. e. pale blue). — D. (? woaded.
-F.)

p. 313, 1. 13, Sonne. Here, to bo consistent, we must read sonnel^s]. — D.

p. 315, 1. 70, " Scarlett and redd" a blunder for "scarlett redd." — D.

p. 319, 1. 200, giiists ; 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 laines (i.e. conceals). — D.

p. 341, Sir Eglamore. " Sir Eglamore " must have been originally -wTitten 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 gais ? That for tanc
and bone we should read tane and bane ? So, too, rare (riming to were) ought
to be rair. Driueth and cliffes should be driffis and cliffis. Drew and loughe
(laughed) should be drench and leuch. Abode must be abaid, if it is to rime
with 7nade (or onaid). And finally, as a crucial instance, it is almost
impossible to believe that t\ie 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

In these lines, more should be mair.—D.

Ixx NOTES.

rest, trist, kest, lest. And when we further observe that the rimes may be
thus emended throughout the whole -poem, 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.

p. 344, 1. 93,

p. 345, 1. 132,

p. 352, 1. 320,

p. 355, 1. 403,;

p. 359, 1. 505, for home read hame. — 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 yeclde read yode (not, as Percy says, yeede). — D.

p. 369, A Cauileere. See GeiTase Markham's chapter " Of Hawking with all sorts
of Hawkes," &c., in his Countrey Contentments, 1615, Bk. I, p. 87-97- " The
pleasure of hawking . . is a most Princely and serious 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 ^' May'^i — D.

p. 388, 1. 1285, for dwell read wend.—D.

p. 390, The Emperour and the Childe, or Valentine & Orson. See Halliwell's
Descriptive Notices, 1848, p. 29-30, as to the Romance, and the prose story.

p. 401, 1. 12, "that ginnye his ffiUy wold haue her owne will." Hei-e " Ginnye"
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 Eitson's text of the passage),

" & said, Cozen Willia7n,
who hath done to you this shame ? " — D.

p. 454, 1. 1078, " both old & young." iin both places "young" should be
p. 496, 1. 2223, "both old and yoimg." J "y''«;9'-"— I^-

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.
—P.

p. 500, Childe Maurice. See R. Jamieson's notes to this liallad in his Pop. Bal.
and 8o7igs, i. 16-21.— F.

NOTES. Ixxi

p. 505, 1. 98, (Old clryid if on the yrasse. Janiieson compares

Horn gan his swerd gripe
Ant 071 fas arm hit wype :
The Sarazyn he hit so,
That his hed fel to ys to.

Ritson's Met. Bom. vol. ii. p. 116. — F.

p. 606, 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. 621, the extract from Lane's MS. Harl. 5243, is only his address to the reader,
before his Poem on Guy. — F.

p. 636, 1. 284, for noone read "noone time." (Compare, ante, p. 468, 1. 1441, —

" ffro : the hower of prime
till it was euensong time.") — D.

p. 536, 1. 290, for there read thore.—D.

p. 641, 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 simiptuous shrine built for its reception, the cathedi-al 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. 679, 1. 629, 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. 682, 1. 606, On Chape, see Wedgwood's Diet. i. 321.

Bts!)op ^txt^'S jfolfo #1^.

o^^c

Theee 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 Gulielmus
Neubrigiensis. " To the MS. copy," says Percy, " is subjoined the
name of the author, Rychard 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 "E. 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

' In the printed CoUectton of Old Glasgow 8 \° 1747. — W/M'ch is remarkable

Ballads. 1727. Vol. 1. p. 108. No. xiv. for the wilful Corruptions made in all

N.B. The Readings in the Margin y" Passages \fhich. concern the two

[here transfexTed to the foot-notes] are Nations. — P.
taken from the Scotch Edition printed at

VOL. II. B

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
ga.ve 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 dredfuU 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, 8

occurred, and from the same cause here given. " It was one of
the Laws of the JNIarches 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 Monraouth. 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 y
began his
hunt.

By noon 100
bucks are
slain.

After
dinner, they

the Gallant Greyliovmd ^ swiftly ran

to Chase the fallow deere ;
on Munday they began to hunt
28 ere ^ daylight did appeare ;

& long before high noone the had

a 100 fatbuckes slaine.
then hailing dined, the dronyers went
32 to rouze the deare ^ againe ;

The Bowmen mustered on the hiUs,

well able to endure ;
theire backsids all with, speciall care
36 that they * were guarded sure.

hunt again,

and the hills
echo their
cries.

the hounds ran swiftly through the woods

the Nimble deere to take,
that with ^ their cryes the hills & dales
40 an Eccho shrill did make.

Percy

wonders
whether
Douglas will
appear.

Lord Pearcy to the Querry ^ 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,

"There he is,

with 2000
men ! "

" Loe, yonder doth Erie douglas come,

hys men in armour bright,
full 20 hundred ^ Scottish speres
52 all Marching in our sight.

* greyhounds.—

* when. — P.

' them up. — P.

* that day.— P.

5 And with.— P.
® Quarry. — P.
' 15,00.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

" all pleasant men of Tiuydale *

fast by the riuer Tweede,"
" ceaze jour sportts ! " ^ Erie Pearcy said,

" and take yo«r bowes w^'th speede,

Percy calls
on his men

" & now "Wi'tb. me, my countrymen,

joior courage forth, advance !
for there was neuer Champion yett ^
60 in Scottland nor in ffrance

to be brave ;

" that euer did on horsbacke come,

& if my hap '' it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
64 With him to breake a spere."

Erie douglas on his ^ Milke white steede,

Most Like a Baron bold,

rode formost of his company,

68 whose armour shone like gold :

he will fight
anyone,

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 ^ answer make

was noble Pearcy hee,
who sayd, " wee list not to declare,
76 nor shew whose men wee bee,

" yett wee will '^ spend our deerest blood

thy cheefest ^ harts to slay."
then douglas swore a solempne oathe,
80 and thus in rage did say,

' men of pleasant Tiviotdale. — P.
^ Then cease sport. — P.
' For ne'er was there a chawpion. — P.
■* but if my hap.— P.

asks whose
men they arc
that hunt

his deer.

Percy

will not tell,

but wiU
fight for the
right to
hunt.

Douglas
declares

" man that first did. — P.
' will we. — P.
* the choicest. — P.

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 ' men,
88 for they haue done none ill ^ ;

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 ^ Pearcye sayd,
92 " by whome it is denyed."

A squire,

Witheriiig-

ton,

protests

that he'll
not look on
while Percy

he'll fight
too.

The English
archers
shoot, and
kill 80 Scots.

then stept a gallant Squire forth, —

witherington was his name, —
who said, " I wold not haue it told
96 to Henery our K.ing, for shame,

" that ere my captaine fought on foote,

& I stand looking on :
you bee 2 Erles," ^ q^toth witheringhton,
100 " & I a Squier alone,

" He doe the best that doe I may,^

while I haue power to stand !
while I haue power to weeld my ^ sword,
104 He fight with hart & hand ! "

Our English archers bend ^ their bowes —

their harts were good & trew, —
att the first flight of arrowes sent,
108 full foure score scotts ^ the slew.

' harmless. — P.
2 no ill.— P.

* thee.— P.

* he, Lord.— P.
^ Lords.- P.

^ that e'er I may. — P.

' a.— P.

* Scottish bent.— P.

* they 4 score English. — P.

CHEUY CHASE.

112

to di'iue the deere with hound & home,

dauglas * Bade on the bent ;
2 Captaines ^ moued with Mickle miglit,^

their speres to shiuers went.

they closed full fast on euerje side,

noe slacknes there was found,
but * many a gallant gentleman
116 Lay gasping on the ground.

Ttiefoes
close,

and many
are slain.

Christ ! it was great greeue ^ to see

how eche man chose his spere,^
& how the blood out of their brests ^
120 did o^ush like water cleare ! *

Christ! it
was sad to

see.

at last these 2 stout Erles ^ did meet

Like Captaines of great might ;
like Lyons moods "^ they Layd on Lode,^^
124 the made a cruell fiffht.

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.^^

till their
blood drops
like rain.

" O yeeld thee, Pearcye ! " i3 Douglas sayd,

" & ^^ infaith I will thee bringe
where thou shall high advanced bee
132 by lames our Scottish K.itig ;

Douglas
calls on
Percy to
yield.

' The Scotch Editor thinks this sh? be
Piercy. — P.
^ a cap'. — P.
' pride. — P.

* and.— P.

* grief. — P.

^ And likewise for to hear. — P.
' The Cries of Men lying in their
gore. — P.

' And lying here & there. — P.

= Lords.— P.

'" mov'd. — P. ? for woode, wild. — F.
or ' the TTwod or pluck ' of lions. — Skeat.

" ? A.-S. leod, a man ; or for hlude,
loudly.— F. or {a)load, laid on heavily.
— Skeat.

'^ Until the blood like drops of rain
They trickling down did feel. — P.

" yield the Lord P.— P.

'* d.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

136

" thy ransome I will freely giuo,

& this ' report of thee,
thou art the most couragious K.idght

[that ever I did see.'] "

Percy will
never yield
to a Scot.

"Noe, Douglas ! " quoth. Erle^ Percy then, [pageiao

"thy profer I doe scorne ;
I will not yeelde to any scott
140 that euer yett was borne ! "

An Englisli
arrow

kills
Douglas,

With that there came an arrow kcene

out of an english bow,
who '' scorke Erie douglas on the brest ^
144 a deepe and deadlye blow ;

exhorting
his men to
fight.

who neuer sayd ^ more words then these,

" fight on, my merry men all !
for why, my life is att [an] end,
148 LorcZ Pearcy sees my ^ fall."

Percy

laments
over his
dead foe :

then leaning lifife, Erie Pearcy tooke

the dead man by the hand ;
who ^ said, " Erie dowglas ! for thy ^ sake
152 wold I had lost my Land !

a braver
knight ne'er
died.

" christ ! my verry hart doth bleed

for ^° sorrow for thy sake !
for sure, a more redoubted ' ' 'Knight,
156 Mischance cold ^^ neuer take ! "

■ ' thus.— P.

« That ever I did see.— P.

3 Lord.— P.

•■ which. — P. scorke, for storke, stroke,
struck ; skorke means scorch ; see
skorche in Halliwell's Gloss. — F.

' to y' heart. — P.

' spake. — P.

■> me.— P.

8 And.— P.

• life.— P.

"> with. -P.

" renowned. — P.

'2 did.— P.

CIIEUY CHASE.

IGO

a K.night amongst the scotts there was,
w/;ich ' saw Erie Douglas dye,

who strcight in hart did vow revenge
vpon the Lord ^ Pearcye ;

A Scotch
knight,
Sir Hugh
Montgom-
ery, vows
revenge on
Percy,

2': parte.

[Part II.]

" Sa* Hugh Mountgonierye Avas he called,

who, w/th a spere full bright,
well mounted on a gallant steed,
ran feircly through the fight,

gallops to

And ^ 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,''

the staif ran ^ through the other side
a large cloth yard & more.

right

through the
body.

thus •» did both those N"obles dye,
whose courage none cold staine.
an English archer then perceiued
176 the Noble Erie was slaine,

An English
archer

he had [a] good bow ' in his hand

made of a trusty tree ;
an arrow of a cloth yard long ^
ISO to the hard head haled ^ hee,

' that.— P.
- Earl.— P.
' He.— P.

* His body he did gore.-

* spear weut. — P.

« So thus.— P.

" a bow bent. — P.

s length.— P.

■ uuto the head drew. — P.

CIIEUY CHASE.

shoots Mont-
gomery

through the
heart.

184

against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye '
his shaft full right ^ he sett ;

the grey goose winge that was there-on,
in his harts bloocle ^ was wett.

The fight
lasts all day.

this fight from breake of day did last ^

till setting of the sun,
for when the rung the Euening bell
188 the Battele scarse was done.

Names of
the English
knights
slain.

w^th ^ stout Erie Percy there was slaine "

Sir lohn of Egerton,'^
Sir Robert HarclifFe & Sir William,®
192 S^r lames that bold barron ;

& with Sir George & ^ Sir lames,
both Knights of good account ;
& good Sir Raphe Rebbye ^^ there was slaino,
196 whose prowesse '' 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 ^^ dumpes,
for when his leggs were smitten of,
200 he fought vpon his stumpes.

Names of
the Scotch
knights
slain.

And w/th Erie dowglas there was slaine

Sir Hugh Mountgomerye,
'3 & Sir Charles Morrell '-• that from feeldo
204 one foote wold neuer flee ;

' then.— P.

^ so right his shaft. — P.
^ heart-blood. — P.
* did last from break. — P.
» the.— P.

" There is a dot for the t, but nothing
more in the MS.— F.
' Ogerton. — P.

» Eatcliffe & Sir John.— P.

^ Sir George also & good. — P.
•" Good .... Eabby.— P.
" courage. — P.
'2 doleful.— P.
'^ d.— P.
" Murray.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

208

S?'r Roger Heuer of Harcliffe tow, — '
his sisters sonne was liee, —

Sir david Lamb well well^ esteemed,
but saved lie cold ^ not bee ;

& the LojrZ Maxwell in like case ■*

wtth Douglas he did dye ; ^
^ of 20 ^ hundred Scottish speeres,
212 scarce 55 did flye ;

Of 2000
Scotch
scarce 55
were left ;

of 1500 Englishmen

went home but 53 ^ ;
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 ^ their wounds in brinish teares,
220 but all wold not ^ prevayle.

Next day
the widows
come,
and weep,

theyr bodyes bathed in purple blood,

the bore w/th them away,
they kist them dead a 1000 times
224 ere the ^^ were cladd in clay.

and carry

the corpses
off

to the grave.

the '• newes was ^^ brought to Eddenborrow

where Scottlands 'King did rayne,
that braue Erie Douglas soddainlye
228 was With an arrow slaine.

' Sir Clia. Murray of Eatcliffe too.— P.
^ Lamb so well. — P.
^ yet saved could. — P.
* wise. — P.

5 did with Earl D'. die.— P.
«— » Of 1500 Scottish spears
went home but 53,

Of 20,00 Englishmen
scarce 65 did flee. — P.
' 15.— P.

8 MS. they washt they.— F. d.— P.
" could not.— P.
'" when they. — P.
" These.— P. '* were.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

" ^ heauy newes ! " K.ing lames can say,

" Scottland may wittenesse bee
I hane not any Csbiptaine more

King James
laments the
loss of
Douglas.
No such
captain has

he left. 232 of such account as hee ! "

King Henry

laments
Percy's loss ;

like ty dings to K.ing Henery came

w^'thin as short a space,
that Pearcy of Nortlmmberland
236 in Cheuy chase was slaine.^

"Now god be with him ! " said our K.int/,
" sith it will noe better bee,^
he has 500 I trust I haue within my realme

as good still

left, 240 500 as good as hee !

but he will
take ven-
geance

for Percy's
death.

And he did
on Humble
Howne,

killing
Lords, and

hundreds of
less account.

God grant

that strife
between
noble men
may cease I

" •* yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say

but I will vengeance take,
& be revenged on them all
244 for braue Erie Percyes sake."

* this vow the K.ing did well performe

after on humble downe ;
in one day 50 K.n{ghts were slayne,
248 w*th Lords of great renowne,

& ^ of the rest of small ^ account,

did many hundreds dye :
thus endeth the hunting in ^ Cheuy Chase
252 made ^ by the Erie Pearcye.

God saue our ^ King, and blesse this 1° land

with plentye, Icy, & peace ;
& grant hencforth that foule debate
256 twixt noble men may ceaze !

ffins.

' Now God bo with him, cried our king,
Sith will no better be !
I trust I have &c. — P.
■■^ Was slain in Chevy Chase. — P.
" heavy news, K. Henry said,
Engl'? can witness be. — P.

* These 2 stanzas omitted in y« Scotch
Edit?V>n.— P. See note, p. 1.— F.
s Now.— P. « mean.— P.

' of.— P. 8 led.— P.

" the.— P. '» the.— P.

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 Eoyalist 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 Eichard 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 Grloucester Hall, Oxford,

_' Written by Col. John Lovelase [t.i. Oxon. Vol. 2? "Written by the Author
Eichard Lovelace]. See Wood's Athencs when imprison'd. — P.

VOL. II. C

18 -WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS.

" the most amiable and beautiful person tliat 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 L,
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 TNCONFINED WINGS. 19

He died in a very mean lodging in Grunpowder alley near Shoe-
lane, and was buried at tlie west end of the church of St. Bride
alias Bridget in London, near to the body of his kinsman, Will.
Lovelace of Grray's Inn, Esq." — " Eichard Lovelace, Esq.," says
Aubrey, " obiit in a cellar in Long Acre, a little before the
restauration of his ma*'^. Mr. Edm. Wyld, &c., had made

collections for him and given him money Greo. 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 Gate 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.

W HEN Love w/th vnconfined wings

hovers w/thin my gates,
& my divine Althea brings iove^\iSte

to wliisp(?r at my grates,
c 2

my prison,

WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS.

I am free
as a bird.

when I lye tangled in Iter heere
& fettered with her eye,

the burds that wanton in the ayre
enioyes ^ such Lybertye.

When I,
confined,
sing my
king's

I am free as
the winds.

When, Lynett hke confined, I
With shriller note shall sing
the mercy, goodnesse, maiestye

& glory of my kinge,
when I shall voice aloud how good

he is, how great shold bee,
the enlarged winds that curies the floods ^
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

w^'th woe-allaying theames,
our carlesse heads wi'th roses crowned,

our harts with Loyall flames,
when thirsty soules in wine wee steepe,

when cupps and bowles goe free,
ffishes that typle in the deepe

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 ^

Calls this an hermitage.^
if I haue freedome in my loue,

& in my soule am free,
angells alone that sores aboue

enioyes such Lybertye !

ffins.

[page 192]

' This final s and several others have
been marked through by a later hand.
-F.

2 flood.— P.

^ These lines differ from the usual
reading. — Skeat.

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 Eeaderin 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, incijois 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 unhappil}^ 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

' An elegant old song written 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 Eevolution. He sat in Parlia-
ment, for various places, from his nineteenth year to his death,
except from 1643 to the Kestoration, in which period his
connection with the Koyalist Plot of 1643 suspended his
public life.

cioris, I IjLORIS, farwell ! I needs must ffoe !

must go, _ °

for if With tliee I longer stay,
thine eyes prevayle upon me soe,
sight. 4 I shall grow blynd & lose my way.^

' Lines 2, 3, 4, are almost all eaten away by the ink of the title at the back.— F.

CLORIS.

ffame of thy bewty & tliy youtli,

amongst tlie rest me hither brought ;

but finding fame fall short of truth,
made me ^ stay longer then I thought.

Report
brought me
hither ;

your beauty

keeps me.

flFor I am engaged by word [and] othe

a servant to anothers will ;
but for thy lone 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 ^] worthy loners sake
] 6 mayst leaue me with soe lust excuse.

but how
could I ?

You'd jilt
me, and

fibr thou wilt say it, " it was ^ not thy fault

tliat I to thee ^ vnconstant prone,
but were by mine ^ example taught
20 to breake thy othe to mend thy loue."

plead my
example as
your excuse.

Noe, Cloris, Noe ! I will returne,

& rayse thy story to that height
tliat strangers shall att distance burne,
24 & shee distrust thee ^ reprobate.

No ! I'll go,
and praise
your beauty
from afar,

Then shall my loue this Doubt displace,

& gaine the trust tliat I may come
& sometimes banquett on thy face,
28 but make my constant meales att home.

seeing you
sometimes
but loving
my own
love.

' my. Qu. — P.

^ more. — P. A may that precedes for
in the MS. is crossed out. — F.
3 is.— P.

■* thou to me. Qu. — P.

^ One stroke too few in the MS.-

* mee. Qu. — P.

This song occurs in the Roxhurghe 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 Popidar 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
Grammer Growty-legs replied ' By my faith, Martin Parker never
got a fairer brat ; no, not when he penn'd that sweet ballad.
When the King injoyes his oiun 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 \

What Booker

can prognosticate,

Who can considerrilnff now the kino-domes state ?

foretell .

I tliinke my selfe to be as wise
4 as lie that gaseth ^ on the skyes ;

my skill goes beyond the depth of Pond ^
or Riuers in the greatest raine,
K?ng%v'iii wherby I can tell that all things will goe well

own^again? ® when the King enioyes his rights againe.

' An old Cavilier Song.— P. 2 gazeth.— P. ^ ponds.— P.

THE KINGE ENIOYES HIS RIGHTS AGAINE.

There is neither swallow, done nor dacle,

can sore more high, or deeper wade

to shew a reason from the starres,' ,

what causeth these our ciuill 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 ^J

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 ^ hee
that in the same shold sharrers ^ 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 ^],

till the 'King 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
wh/ch fformerly ['t] was ^ wont [to] haue,
with a sweete perfume in euerye roome

delightfuU to that princely traine :
w/w'ch againe shalbe when the times you see

that the King enioyes his right againe.'^

ffins.

[page 193]

Though
Whitehall is
all cobwebs
now,

soon it will
be silks

and per-
fumes,

when the
King enjoys
his right
agaio.

' shoone. — P.
2 mend. — P.
s than.— P.
* sharers. — P.

* cease. — P.

^ formerly 't was. — P.

' This fourth stanza is put before the
third in the copy that Mr. Chappell
prints, ii. 438.

This song under the title of 3Iark Anthony is found, minus
vv. 13-20 inclusive, in Poems by J. G. 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 coueh'd on the ground,
Venus in\'ited me in th' Evening -whispers,
4 Unto a fragrant field with Eoses crown'd :

' Not an inelegant old song. Corrected by an Edition in Cleveland's Poems.
12'?'>1687. p. 65.— P.

THE ^GIPTIAN QUENE. 27

AVhere she before had sent
My wishes complement,
Unto my hearts content
Phiid with mo on the Green,

Never Mark Anthony

Dallied more wantonly

With the fair Egyptian Queen.

First on her cherry checks I mine eyes feasted,
Then ' fear of surfeiting made me retire :
Next on her warm- lips, which when I tasted,
My duller spirits made' active as fire.

Then we began to dart

Each at anothers heart.

Arrows that knew no smart :

Sweet lips and smiles between,
Never Mark, ^-c.

Wanting a glass to plate her amber tresses,
AVhich like a bracelet rich decked mine arm,
Gawdier then Juno wears when as she graces
Jove with embraces more stately than warm.

Then did she peep in mine

Eyes humour Christalline ;

I in her eyes was seen.

As if we one had been.
Never Mark, tf"c.

Mystical Grammar of amorous glances,
Feeling of pulses the Physick of Love,
Khetorical courtings and Musical Dances ;
Numbring of kisses Arithmetick prove.

Eyes like Astronomy,

Streight limb'd Geometry :

In her heart's ingeny

Our wits are sharp and keen.
Never Mark, ^c.

W HEN as the Nightingale chanted her vesper,^ At eve

& the wyld fayryes lay coucht^ on the ground,
Venus invited me to an euening Wisper,^ my Love

p 1 1 -7 • 1 -I invited me

4 to fragrant leelds ' with roses crounde to toy with

' Thence. — B. C. D. forresters, i.e. the deer, the Inhabitants

^ warmer. — B. C. D. of the forrest. — P.

^ made me. — G. D. * in th' evening whispers. — P,

■* her vespers. — P. ' Unto a frag', field.— P.

* forrester coucht. I w*? read here

THE iEGIPTIAN QUENE.

her in the
fields.

We dallied
like Antony
and Cleo-
patra.

I looked at
her cheeks.

kissed her
lips,

pressed her
hand.

twined mine
in her hair,

gazed in her
eyes.

■which • shee before had sent her cheefest complement,
Vnto my 2 harts content sport ^ with me on the
greene ;
Neuer marke Anthony dallyed more wantonly
8 With, his fayre -^giptian queene* !

ffirst on her Cherry cheekes I my eyes ^ feasted ;

thence feare of surffetting made me retyre,
then to her warmed [lips],** wh^ch when I tasted,
12 my spiritts duld were made actiue by '^ fyer.

^ this heat agame to calme, her moyst hand yeelderd
balme ;
whilest wee loyned ^ palme to palme as if wee one
had beene,
Nener marke Anthony dallyed more wantonly
16 with his fayre Cor ^^ egiptian queene !

Then in her golden heere ^ ^ I my hands twined ;

shee her hands in my lockes twisted againe,
as if her heere had beene fetters assigned,
20 Sweet litle Cupid ^^ Loose captiue *^ to chayne ;
soe did wee often dart one at anothers hart

arrows that felt '^ noe smart, sweet lookes and
smiles ' ^ between.
Neuer, &c.

Her tresses ^4 Wa[yting a glass to platt] those amorus tresses ^^
^^ ■which like a [bracelet] deckt richly mine arme,

' Where. — P. For her cheefest Percy
puts my wishes. — F.

^ And to my. query. — P.
3 Play'd.— P.

* Only half the n in the MS.— F.

* 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.

'■• A ^ is between loyned 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 strxick out, and copied
in again by Percy. — F.

»" ? MS.— F.

" haire. — P.

'2 After the d Percy puts 's. — F.

'^ After the e Percy adds s. — F.

^ fett, fetch'd. — query: it is knew no
sm*. in print. — P.

'^ Lipps and smiles. — P.

'^ Wayting 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 ^GIPTIAN QUENE.

gaudyer tlien luno was w/w'ch ^ when shee blessed ^ arm uke a

. bracelet ;

loue With. Euers races ^ more richly •* thein warme.
28 shee sweetely peept in eyne that was more cristalline,

which by reflection shine ech eye and eye was scene, she peept

,-r sweetly at

JNeuer, &c. me.

Mistical! granwjiers ^ of ** amorus glances,

feeHng of pulses, the phisicke of lone,
Retoricall conrtings & musicall dances,

nnmbring of kisses arithemeticke prones ^ ;
Eyes like astronomy, strayght limbes geometry,

in her harts enginy ^ ther eyes & eyes were seene.^
Nene/', &c.

ffins.

and in her
glances

I saw kisses
alone.

' Juno wears. — P.

2 presses (graces) Pr. Copy. — P.

3 So in the MS.— F. embraces.— P.

♦ stately. P.C.— P.

* grammars; grammar of: pr. Copy.
— P. Note the Seven Sciences — Grammar,
Phj'sic, Ehetoric, Music, Arithmetic,

Astronomy, Geometry. — Skeat.
" are. query. — P.
' prove, p.c. — P.

* Arts Ingeny. — P.

* 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, folloio here in the MS.']

il^ollolne me ffanrpe*

This song, says Percy's marginal note, is " printed in a collection
of Scots Poems, Edingboro', 1713, pag. 142."

Mens 'prcetrejpidans 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 reruin
cognoscente 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.

Melanclioly,
I dance

like an elf

over moun-
tains,
plains,
and woods.

IN: a Melancholly fancy, out of my selfe,

thorrow the -welkin dance I,

all the world snrvayinge, noe where stayinge ;

like vnto the fiery e elfe,i

over the topps of hyest mountaines skipping,

oucr the plaines, the woods, the valleys, tripping,^

oner the seas without oare of ^ shipping,

hollow, me fancy ! wither wilt thou goe ?

' fairy elfe. — P.

Only half the w in the MS.— F.

^ oaro or. — P.

HOLLOWE ME FANCYE.

Amydst the cloudy vapors, faine wold I see I'd uke to

, . , . see what tlie

wnat are those burning tapors stars and

meteors are ;

w/»'ch benight vs and affright vs,
12 & what the Meetors • bee.

fFaine wold I know what is the roaring thunder, [page 195]

& the brio'ht Lisrhtnina; which, cleeues the clouds in what the

000 tuuimcr,

sunder, lightning,

& what the cometts are att which, 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,

none can their stations hold :

One, he sitts drooping all in a durapish passion ;

another, he is for Mirth and recreation ;

the 3?, he hangs his head because hees out of fassion.

Hollow, &c.

See, See, See, what a bustling !

]^ow I descry one another lustlynge !

how they are turmoyling, one another foyling,

& how I past them bye !

hee thats aboue, him thats below ^ despiseth ;

hee thats below, doth enuye him ^ thai ryseth ;

euerje man his plot & counter ^ plott deviseth.

Hollow.

Shipps, Shipps, Shipps, I descry now !

crossing the maine He goe too, and try now

what they are proiecting & protecting ;

& when the turne againe.

One, hees to keepe his country from inuadinge ;

another, he is for Merchandise & tradino-e :

the other Lyes att home like sumwiers cattle shadding.^

Hollow.

I'd like to
look down
ou 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. ^ MS. Llotted.— F. » ? getting into a shed or the shade.— F.

HOLLO WE 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 m^ee, 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 hath the lesse in storinge.

45 welcome, my fancye ! welcome home to mee !

ffins.

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. Did. of England.)

' Very probably writ by Jack Cleve- Trent ; to Chear the Garrison : where he
hind during the siege of Newark upon was judge advocate. — P.

VOL. II. D

NEWAKKE.

Fill us a
cup I

Here's a
health to
King
Charles.

We dread
not our foes.

UUR : braines are asleepe, then fyll vs ^ a cupp

of cappering sacke & clarett ;
here is a laealtli to 'King Charles ! then drinke it all vp,

his cause will fare better for itt.
did not an ould arke sane noye ^ in a flood ?

why may not a new arke to vs be vs ^ 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

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,

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 * our prince is coming amaine
24 to rowte & make them run againe.

ffins.

' MS. vis or ras. — F.
= Old Ark— Noe.— P.

as.— F.
Maurice. — P.

^moncTSSt tl)t mirtkss/

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 tliotights sights this ^ inter-taltet ;
" tell me," said I in deepe distresse,
4 " Where may I find [my sheperdesse.^]

Where can I
find my
shepherdess?

" Thou foole ! " said lone, " knowes thou not this ?

in euejye thing thats good shee is.

in yonder tulepe goe & seeke,

there thou may find her lipp, her cheeke ;

[page 196]

She's in all
that's good,
her hue in
the tulip.

*' In yonder enameled Pan eye,
there thou shalt haue her curyous eye ;
in bloome of peach & rosee * budd,
12 there wane the streamers of her blood:

her eye in
the pansy,

' A very elegant old song. Writ by
Mr. Thomas Carew. See his poems, 6°.
L. 1640.— P.

* thus. — P. ; and sights marked for

omission by Percy. — F.
3 The MS. is cut away.-
* rosee. — P.

AMONGST THE MIKTLES.

her hand in
the lily,

the scent of
her bosom
on the hills.

" In ^ briglitest Lyllyes that laeere stand,
tlie ^ emlblemes of lier whiter hands ;
in yonder rising hill, their smells ^
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.

With that I stopt, sayd, " loue,* these bee,
fond man, resemblance-is of thee ^ ;
& as these flowers, thy loyes shall dye
24 Euen in the twinkling of an eye,

" And all thy hopes of her shall wither
Like these short sweetes soe knitt together."

ffi[ns.]

» The.— p.
^ are. — P.
^ there smells. — P.

* stop'd. S<? Love &c.— P.
^ resemblances of thee. — P.

Songs of a very similar kind are common enough in the collec-
tions of Eoyalist 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 thou 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 jprivilegio.

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 HiiU ?

This answer I in brief do sing.

All things were thus when Pym was King.

IHE : 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,

the lower is the vpper house. The lower

&r 1 /> 1 o T house is the

thus from laus ^ orders come, upper.

but now their orders laus ^ frome.
A good old Cavilier song. — P. ^ qu. Caus. — F.

THE WORLDE IS CHANGED.

They want
to enslave
their king,

and put him
under Pym.

In all humilitye they craue
theire soueraigne to be their slaue,
beseeching him thai hee wold bee
betrayd to them most Loyallye ;
for it were Meeknesse soe in him
to be a vice-Roy vntoy Pyim,^

Charles
would rather
not.

If thai 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
but what are by themselves inuented,
that once a month the thinke it fitting
to fast from soine ^ because from sittinge
Such blessings to the Land are sent
by priuiledge of Parlaiment.

ffins.

' unto Pym.— P. ^ y MS. so7ie, with a dot over the first stroke of tlie n.—F.

Cfte ttiht off 23anl)uri)e*^

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 Eoyal 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 wa»» 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,

' Au old Cavilicr Song on the Taking of Banbury by Colonel Lumford. — P.

40 THE TRIBE OF BANBURYE.

but 300 good ones, and tlie rest sorry jades, anything [tliey] 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 Feines and
Captaine Yivers, 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 B. of Northamptons 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. Among
the King's Pamphlets in the Brit. Mus. apud Beesley's " History
of Banbury," p. 302.

On July 7 UN : the 7th day on the 7 month,

most Lamentablye
the Cavi- ^^° men of Babylon did spoyle

Banbui?! 4 t^e tribe of Banburye.

A brother post from con entry

We had news t • i i i jj i

ofLunsford's rydmg ni a blew rockett,'

sayes, " Colbronde Lunsford comes, I saw,
8 with a childs arme hang in his pockett."

' 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.

Then wee called up our men of warr,
younge Viuers, Cooke & Denys,^

wliome our Lord Sea ^ placed vnder
his Sonne Master iFyenys.^

and called
out our men
of war,

When hee came neere, he sent vs word

thai hee was coming downe,
& wold, vnles wee lett him in,
1 6 Granado ■* all our towne.

butLunsford
said he'd

grenade our
town,

Then was our Colhronde — fines,-^-

in a most woefull case ;
for neither he nor I did know
20 who this grranado was.

-& me.

wee had 8 gunnes called ordinance,^

& foure score Musquetiers,^
yett all this wold not serue to stop
24 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 ^ !

In ro/cct than in cote, ywis.

The -whyte roket rydled faire, &c.

Eommmt of the Rose, 1. 1238-43, Poet.
Works, ed. Morris, vi. 38.

" Eocket, a surplys : " Palsgrave.

"Skeltcn describes Elinor Rumming
the Alewife in a gray russet rocket.

Rocket, a cloak without a cope : Eandle
Holme ; " in Pairholt.

Rocket, a frocke ; loose gaberdine, or
gowiie of canuas or course linnen, worne
by a labourer over the rest of his clothes ;
also, a Prelates Eocket : Cotgrave. See
the woodcut in Fairholt, p. 220. — F.

' There is a dot over the stroke follow-

ing the e in the MS.— F.

2 Say.— P.

^ Fiennes. — ^P.

■» 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.

* Fiennes. — P.

^ Ordinance, all sorts of Artillery, or
great Guns us'd in War. Phillips. — F.

' Musquetiers. — P. The last e is made
over a ,y in the MS. — F,

" kick 'cm. — P.

THE TRIBE OF BANBDRYE.

He swore
and threat-
ened us so

" You round heads, rebells, rougs,' " quoth hee,

" He crop & slitt eche eare,
& leaue you neither arme nor lege

much longer then jour heere ^ ! "

that we
opened our

Then wee sett ope our gates ^ full wyde ;

they swarmed in like bees,
& they were all arraydd in buffe
36 thicker then our towne cheese.*

and his
blood-
thirsty men

Now god deliuer vs, we pray,

from such blood-thirstye men,
forom ^ Leayathan Lunsford
40 who eateth our children !

hung vxs and
plundered

ffor Banburye, the tinkers crye,
you hanged vs vp by twelues ;

now since Lunsford hath plundred you,
you may goe hang jour selues.

Ifins.

' rogues. — P.

^ haire. N.B. The Eoundheads were
so called from wearing their hair cropt
short.— P.

' gater in the MS.— F.

* Banbury Cheese. — P.

* this.— P.

["Doe you meane to overthroive me," and "J. Maid 8f a Younge Man,"
printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 49-52, follow here in
the MS.']

9fp : me : 9lp 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 will prove
a gentillman,^ 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 follov/ing 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 will 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.

' Reprinted from The Archaologist iu Satirical Songs (Percy Society), p. 127.

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 hegginge this 7naintayne !

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 dear !
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,

" 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,^

but only one, and him all Maidens scorne,

for hees the worst I thinke tliai 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,^
for ■* 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 tliais of a comely hew,
cladd hke a Musele in a capp of blew.^ "
" 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"! and 4'^ had store of gold,

the 5. C. 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,^goods, nor Land[s.] "

' I'm vndone. — P.

^ Particular ; not Fr. 7iiais, a simple,
witlesse, vnexperienced gull. Nice, dull,
simple : Cotgrave. — F.

^ As none but I coulA love. — P.
< But— P.

^ The Scotch cap. See Bkw-cap for
me in Sat. Songs, p. 130, &c. — F.

AY ME : AY ME.

*' peace, good sisley ; peace & take that one
that stayes beliind when all the rest are gone !

" He [is,] as ' turkes doe say, noe renegatoe,^
noe Portiigall, Gallowne, or reformato ^ ;
but in playne termes some say he is a scott,
that by his witts some old cast suite hath gott,
& now is as "* briske ^ as my ^ Bristow Taylor,
& swaggers like a pander or a saylor.'^"
" kisse him, sisley, kisse him, he may prone the best,
& vse him kindly, but witt bee all the rest."

a Scot,

in a cast-off

suite.

" One was a welchman, her wold ^ scorne to crye ;
& 3 were Dutchmen that sill ^ drunke wold bee ;
& 6 were frenchemen that were pockye proude ;

36 & one a spanyard that cold bragg alowd.
Now all are gone, & way i'' 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 ^ ^ 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

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,

by begging thou maist wears a garland gay ! "

But I'll take
him ;

begging's a
good trade
now ;

and he'll beg
for us both.

' He is, as, &c. — P.

^ renegado. — P.

' reformado. — P. Sp. reformddo, re-
formed. Minsheu. Beformado, orReformed
Officer, an Officer whose Company or
Troop is disbanded, and yet be contiim'd
in M'hole 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.
—P.

* It may be al in the MS. — P.

^ And now's as brisk. — P.

^ any. — P.

' ? MS. Jaylor.— F.

^ hur wold, &c. — P.

« still.— P.

10 weigh.— P.

" The Man that begs will ne'er prove.
—P.

ffaute : luoltie t $ djanofej

[page 199]

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
cliange my
maiden life,

XAINE wold I change my maiden lifFe
to tast of loues true loyes."
" What ? liffe ! woldesf^ thou chuse to bee a wifFe ?

maids wishes are but tojes."
" how can there bee a greater hell then Hue a maid
soe long,^
a mayd soe long ?
to the church ring out the Marriage bells,
ding dong, ding dong, ding dong !"

for I'm

nearly six-
teen, 1 2

" BefFore that 15 yeeres were spent,

I knew, & haue a Sonne."
" how old art thou ? " " sixteene next Lent."

" alas, wee are both vndone ! "
how can there bee &c.

■ 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 maidenliead till
it was stale, I am condemned to lead apes
in hdV. — Shirley's Love-Tricks, act iii.

sc. 6 ; Works, vol. i. p. 53, ed. Gifford
and Dyce.

" This plirase, which is still in common
use, never has been (and never will he)
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.

" why would'st. — P.

3 ? MS.— F. so long.— P,

FAINE WOLDE I CHANGE. 47

" Besides, I heard an old wiffe tell

that all tnie maids must dye." and true

16 " wliat must they doe ? " "lead apes in hell ! andieadapes

In hell.

a dolefull destinye."
" & wee will lead noe apes in hell ; i """n't do

■^ ' that,

1 weele change our maiden song, our maiden song ;
20 to the church ring out the Marriage bells, to^chlwch*

■wee haue lined true mayds to ^ longe."

ffins,

' "Weele change" is in the 18th line in the MS.— F. * too.— P.

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 Wifs Interpreter,
third edition, 8vo. 1671 :"

If I hare -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 first sight, " HEN" ffirst I saw her face, I resolued ^

to honor & renowne thee ;
but if I be disdajned, I wishe
4 that I had neuer knowne thee,
me love f^'^^ ^ ^-sked leaue ; you bade me loue ;

is itt now time to chyde mee ?
O : no : no : no ! I loue you still, what fortune euer
betyde mee !

8 If I admire or praise you too much,

that fortune [you] might ^ forgiue mee ;
or that my hand hath straid but to touch,^
thenn might you iustly leaue mee,

' thee I resolv'd.— P. ^ (.Jiat fault you might.— P. ^ MS. teach.— F. to touch.— P.

WHEN FIK.ST I SAWE.

but I that liked, & you thai loued,

is now a time to wrangle ?
O no : no : no, ray hart is ffixt, & will not new vviii yi
entangle.

The sun, whose beames most glorious are,

rejecteth ^ noe beholder ;
jouv faire face, past all compare,

makes my faint hart the bolder,
when bewtye likes, & witt delights,

& showes of Lone doe bind mee ;
there, there ! O there ! whersoeuer I goe,

lie leaue my hart behind mee !

' MS. & reacheth.— F.

ffins.

now quaiTel
with me ?

Your beauty

has stolen
my heart.

["J. Creature fur Feature,'" and ^^ Lye alone," printed in
Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 53-56, follow here in the MS.']

VOL. II.

^oh) fayrt ^hn ht*'

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 Grolden Grarland of Princely Delights, third edition
1Q20, entitled The Shepherd's Eesolution. To the tune of The
Young Man's Opinion."

shauj km OUALL : I, wasting in dispayre,

dye because a woman s fayre ?
or make pale my cheekes w/tli care ^
foveXe^M) 4 because anotliers rose-yee ^ are ?

care for me ? g^ ^^ice fairer then the day

or the flowry Meads in may,
if shee thinke not well of mee,
^"^ ^- 8 What care I how fayre shee bee ?

Shall my foolish hart be pind

because I see a woman kind,
or a well disposed nature
12 With " a comlye feature V

' An elegant old Song l^y Withers. omission of St. 2'.' — P.

This song is in the Tea Table Miscellany ^ shall my Cheeks look pale with care

of Allan Eamsay, 17o3, pflr/c 304. But (printed Copy). — P.

the Printed Copy wants the 2'.' stanza: — • » rosie are. P.

it containing only three. It is also in * matched or joinpd.— P.
Drj'den's Misc. V. 6. p. 335, with the

HOW FAYRE SIIEE BE.

Be sliee Meeker, kinder, then

the turtledoue or Pelican,
if shee be not soe to me,
16 what care I how kind shee bee ?

If she's not
kind to me,
let her go.

Shall a womans vertues * moue

me to perish for her lone,
or her worthy merritts knowne

make me quite forgett mine owne ?
were shee with iliai goodness blest,

as may meritt name of best,
if shee be not soe to me,

what care I how good shee bee ?

Shall I
perish for
her love ?

Not I.

^Be shee good or kind or fayre,

I will neuer more disp[air ;]
if shee loue me, this beleeue,

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 ^ for mee,

what care I ■* for whom shee bee ?

If she slight

me,

let her go.

What care I?

' goodness (printed Copy). — P.
* The following four lines are written
in two in the MS.— F.

^ Percy inserts j?i!. — F.
* A wJiom struck out follows I in the
MS.— F.

["J)o»me sate the Sliepard,'''' and ^^ Men that more," invnted in
Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 57-60, follotv here in the il//S'.]

£ 2

Come : Come : Come :' [page 202]

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 Grods,
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 jolly! vOME: Come, come ! shall wee Masque or mum?

by my holly day,^ what a coyle is heere !
some must ^ sway, & some ohay I,
4 or else, I pray, who stands in feare ?

Though though ^ my toe, thai I limpe on soe,^

we have

the gout, doe cause my woe & wellaway,

wine'ii make yett this swest spring & another thing

8 will make you sing fa.la.la.la.la.

' A curious old drinking song, sup- ^ onist in the MS. — F.

posed to be sung by an old gouty Biic- "* what tho'. — P.

chanal.— P. * sc. with the Gout. — P.

2 Dame.— P.

COME : COME : COME.

ffellow gods, will you fall att odds ?

what a fury madds yo?<r morttall ^ braines !
for a litle care of the Avorlds affare,
12 will you frett, will you square,^ will you vexe, will
you vai[r ?] ^
No, gods ! no ! let fury go,'*

& Morttalls doe as well as tliey may !
for this sweet &c.

Don't bother

about

business.

God of Moes,s with thy toting Nose,

With thy mouth that growes to thy Lolling eare,
stretch thy mouth from North to south,

& quench thy drought <5 in vinigar !
though thy toung be too Large & too Longe

to sing this song of fa la la la la,
loyne Momus grace to vulcans pace,

& With a filthy face crye " waw waw waw ! "

Momus,

drink
vinegar !

Sing with us
somehow !

24 Brother Mine, thou ^ art god of wine !

will you tast of the wine ^ to the companye ?
K-ing of quaffe, carrouse & dofife
yowr Liquor of, and follow mee !
28 ^ Sweete soyle of Exus lie,

wherin this coyse ^° was enerj 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 1^ you goe to the world below,

you shall light of noe such Liquor there,

Mercury,
drink !

* immortal, qu. — P.
^ i. e. quarrel. — P.

=• will you vex yoiiv vaines. — P. Vair
for veer, turn. It should rhyme with
square. — Chappell.

" ? MS. gott, with 1 1 blotched out.— F.

* Mows, i. e. Mockery. Sc. Momus. — P.

* drowth. — P.
^ that.— P.

* vine. — P.

9 To the.— P.

'" ? MS. coyle.— F. ? coysc, body.—
Halliwell.
" whene'er. — P.

COME : COME : COME.

Wine'll wing
your heart.

Mars,

stop strife, 44
and drink.

thougli ' you were a winged stare
& fiyeth ^ farr as sliineth day ;

yett lieeres a thing yo^tr hart will wing,
& make you sing &c.

You thai are the god of warr,

a cruell starr peruerse & froward,

Mars ! prepare thy warlicke speare,
& targett ! heers a combatt towards !

^ then fox ■* me, & lie fox thee ;
then lets agree, & end this fray,

since this sweet &c.

Venus,

you drink
too!

Venus queene, for bewtye seene,

in youth soe greene, & loued soe young,

thou thai art mine owne sweet hart,

shalt haue a part in Cuppe [&] songe ^ ;

though my foot be wrong, my swords full long
& hart full strong; cast care away.

Since this sweet &c.

Apollo,

here's wine
for you !
It will refine
your music.

Great Appollo, crowned with yellow,^
Cynthius, fellow ^- 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 luno clere, & mother dere,

you come in the rere of a bowsing feast ;

' Altho', or even tlio', or perhaps

What tho' you are a winged star
And fly as far. — P.

2 and flew as, as, That flyeth.— P.
^ Do thou fox me. — P.
'' 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.

« Cloath'd in yellow.— P.

' 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.

thus I meet, j07ir grace to greet ;

the gTape is sweet & the last is best.
64 now let fall jour angry brawlee ^

from im^nortall & wayghtye sway ;
tis a gracious thing to please yo?(r 'K.ing,

& heare you sing &c.

leave your

anger,

drink and
sing I

AwfuU sire, & king of fire !

let wine aspire to tLy mighty throne,
& in this quire of voices clere

Come thou, & beare an imorttall drame ^ ;
for fury ends, & gTace d[e] sends

With Stygian feinds to dwell for aye,
lett liTectur spring & thunder ring

when loue ^ doth sing: &c. &c.

Jove,

drink,

and join onr

song !

[page 203]

Vulcan, Momus, hermes, Bacchus,

Mars & Venus, 2 and tooe,
Phebus brightest, luno rightest,

& the mightyest of the crew,
loue, and all the heauens great ■* hall,

keepe festiuall & holy-day !
since this sweete spring wi'th her blacke thing

will make you sing fa la la la.

ffins.

Vulcan and
all you gods,

rejoice
and drink
wine.

' brawle. — P.

2 drone, i. e. buss.-

3 Jove. — P. MS. lohue, ■with perhaps
the h marked out. — F.
* /till here, struck out. — F.

[In 2 Parts.— P.]

This is a late, popular version of the old romance of " Sir
Grawain 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, accoi'ding 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 :

'A curious adventure of Sir Ga- tion p. 29-31 [of MS. ; pp. 70-3 of text],

waine, explaining a custome used by — P.

the Knights of the Bath. — P. '^ In his edition of Si/r Gmvayne, Sir

N.B. See a Fragnifwt 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 }i.mff/it & decapita-

THE GEKNl', RNKHIT. 57

College of Arms, June 8.

It appears to liave 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 in
theire gownis,^ and hoodis, and tookins of whi^te silke upon theire
shouldeirs 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. Planch^.

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 ia 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 CormuaU, 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

' Froissart says, " un double cordeau de soye blanche a blanches louppettes pendans."

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 m dere."
Sir G-awaine 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 Gowin.

When
Arthur
lived, he
ruled all
Britain,

List ! wen > Arthur he was 'King,
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.^

and lived, for
a time, in
peace.

To stop his
knights con-
tending for
precedency,

he made the

Bound

Table,

that all

he drive allyance ^ out of this He,
8 soe Arthur liued in peace a while,
as men "* of Mickle maine,
hnights strong of ^ their degree
[strove] which, of them hyest shold bee ;
12 therof Arthur was not faine ;

hee made the round table for their behoue,
that none of them shold sitt aboue,
but all shold sitt as one,^

' when. — P.

^ without layne, i.e. without lying. —
or yfithout altering the line (only dele it
is) it is " Not to conceal the truth." — P.
old Norse le_>/na, to hide. — F.

^ ch-ave aliens. — P.

■• man. — P.

* Kn'.^ strove of (about) &c. — P.

" at one. — P. Compare Arthur, E. E.
Text Soc, p. 2, 1. 43-53 :

At Cayrlyone, wyt7*oxite fable,
he let make \>e Rouwde table :

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

IG the 'King liimselfe in state royall,
Dame Gueneuer our queene w/thall,
seemlye of body and bone.

might be
equal.

itt fell againe the christmase,
many came to that Lords place,

to that worthy e one
w^'th helme on ' head, & brand bright,
all that tooke order oflcnigJit;

none wold linsrer att home.

One Christ-
mas many
knights
came to
Ai-thur's
com't.

there was noe castle nor mano^tr free
that might harbour that companye,

their puissance was soe great,
their tents vp the pight ^
for to lodge there all that night,

therto were sett to meate.

No house
could hold
all of them,

so they
pitched their
tents,

.36

Messengers there came [&] went ^
With much victualls verament

both by way & streete ;
wine & wild fowle thither was brought,
Within they spared nought

for gold, & they might itt gett.

and food

was served
to them.

Now of Kdng Artbur noe more I mell * ;
but of a venterous 'k.iiight I will you tell ^

that dwelled in the west countrye ^ ;
Si'r Bredbeddle, for sooth he hett ^ ;
he was a man of Mickele might,

& LorcZ of great bewtye.

And why \>at ho maked hyt J^us,
\!\s was J>e resouw y-wyss,
J'at no man schulde sytt abone o]>&v,
ne haiio indignaciouM of hys broker ;
And alle liadde .oo. seruyse,
For no pryde scholde aryse
For any degree of syttynge
OJjer for any seruyuge. — F.

But I shall
leave
Arthur,
and tell you
about
Sir Bred-
beddle.

' MS. &.— F.
^ pitched, or put. — P.
' and went. — P.

* mell, meddle, fr. meler. Urry. — P.
^ I tell.— P.
6 See line 515.— F.
" hight, was called. — P. The earlier
romance makes the knight's name "Bern-

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

He loved his
wife dearly,

but she
loved Sir
Gawaine.

he had a lady to his ^ wifFe,

he loued her deerlye as his lifFe,

shee was both blyth and blee ^ ;
because S^r Gawaine was stiffe in stowre,
sliee loued him priuilye paramour,^

& ■* 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
Brcdbeddle
to go, trans-
formed.

shee cold transpose hnights & swaine
like as in battaile they were slaine,

wounded^ both Lim & lightt,''
shee taught her Sonne the hnight alsoe
in transposed likenesse he shold goe ^

both by fell and frythe ;

to Arthur's
court to see
adventures.

This was in
order to get

shee said, " thou shalt to Arthurs hall ;
for there great aduentures shall befall

That euer saw K.ing or 'K.night.''''
all was for her daughters sake,
that which, she * soe sadlye spake

to her sonne-in-law the knight,
because S/r Gawaine was bold and hardye.

[page 204]

lak de Hautdesert" (p. 78, 1. 2445); it
does not make his wife fall in love with
Gawain, but Bernlak sends her to tempt
him (p. 75, 1. 2362). Gawain comes out
of tht; 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 tliat his talking with his head in
hand would bereave all Arthur's kniglits
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 seliyly blered." — F.

' MS. wis.— F.

^ so bright of blee, blee is colour,
complexion, bleo S. Color. Urry. — P.

^ I W? read par amour. — P.

■' and yet. — P.

* and wound. — P.

^ lythe, a joint, a limb, a nerve. Sax.
li^, artus. Urry. — P.

' to go.— P.

8 MS. that theye w/wch.- F.

THE GHENE KNIGHT.

& therto full of ciirtesye,'
to bring him into lier sight.

brought to
her daugh-
ter.

the knight said " soe mote I thee,
to Arthurs court will I mee hye

for to praise thee right,
& to proue Gawaines points 3 ;
& thai be true that men tell me,

by Mary Most of Might."

Bredbeddle
agrees to go,

and prove
whether
Gawaine is
so good.

earlye, soone as itt was day,
the 'Knight dressed him full gay,

vmstrode ^ 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,

when horsse and armour was all greene,

& weapon that hee bare,
when that burne was harnisht still,
his countenance he became right well,

I dare itt safely e sweare.

He was a

goodly sight,
in his green
armour, and
on his greeu
horse.

that time att Carleile lay our K-ing ;
att a Castle of flatting was his dwelling,

in the fforrest of delamore.^
for sooth he ^ rode, the sooth to say,
to Carleile ^ he came on Christmas day,

into that fayre countrye.''

Arthur is at
Carlisle,
at Castle
Flatting,
in Delamere
Forest.

Bredbeddle
arrives on
Christmas
day.

' " }>at fyne fader of niirture " the old
romance calls him, p. 29, 1. 919. — F.

^ and strode, i. p. bestrode. — P. u?7i =
roimd. See the elaborate description of
the knight, his armour and horse, in the
old romance, p. 5-6, 1. 1.51-202.— F.

3 Yt, i. e. it.—'P.

* Delamere. — P. In Cheshire. — H.

^ for soe hee. — P.

" Camylot, in the old romance. — F.

' countrye faire. — P.

THE GKENE KNIGHT.

The porter

asks

him where

he's going to.

" To see
King Arthur
and his
lords."

The porter

wlien lie into thai place came,'

92 the porter thouglit liim a Maruelous groome :
lie saith, " Str, witlier wold yee ? "
hee said, " I am a venterous 'K.niglii,
& of jouT 'King wold haue sight,

96 & other Lonfe tlmi 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 'King ;
saith, " in lifes dayes old or younge,

such a sia:ht I liaue not scene !

of the Green

Knight's

arrival,

and the
king

orders him
to be let in.

104

108

" for yonder att yowr gates right ; "
he saith, " hee is ^ a venterous Knight

all his vesture is greene."
then spake the King proudest in all,^
saith, " bring him into the hall ;

let vs see what hee doth meane."

■Bredbeddle
comes,

wishes
Arthur God

112

when the greene Knight came before the King,
he stood in his stirrops strechinge,

& spoke with voice cleere,
& saith, " King Arthur, god saue thee
as thou sittest in thy prosperitye,

& Maintain e thine honor "* !

and saj'R he
has come

to challenge
his lords to
a trial of
manhood.

116

120

" why ^ thou wold me nothing but right ;
I am come hither a venterous [Knight,^]

& kayred^ thorrow countrye farr,^
to proue poynts in thy pallace
that longeth to manhood in euejye case

among thy LorJs deere."

' come or was come. — P.

^ there is. — P.

^ first or foremost of all. — P.

■* honnere. — P.

^ for why, because. — F.

« Knight.— P.

' have gone ; A.-S. cerran, cirran, to
turn, pass over or by. — P.
^ farre, or perhaps faire. — P.

THE GKEXE KNIGHT.

the Kinr/, lie sayd ^ full still ^
till he had said all his will ;
certain thus can ^ he say :
124 " as I am true knight and King,
thou shalt haue thy askinge !
I will not say thy nay,*

" whether thou wilt ^ on foote fighting,
or on steed backe "^ lusting

for loue of Ladyes gay.
If & thine armor be not fine,
I will giue thee part of mine."

" god amercy, Lore? ! " can he say,

" here I make a challenging

among the Lords both old and younge

that worthy beene in weede,
136 which of them will take in hand ^ —
hee that is both stifie and stronge

and full good att need —

128

132

Arthur

consents to
let him try

on foot,

or horse-
back.

Bredbeddle
challenges
Arthur's
lords :

he'll let any
one

" I shall lay my head downe,

140 strike itt of if he can ^

with a stroke to garr ^ itt bleed,
for this day 12 monthe another at his :
let me see who will answer this,

144 a knight ^^ that is doughtyc of deed;

" for this day 12 month, the sooth to say,
let him come to me & seicth his praye ;
rudlye,^' or euer hee blin,!^

[page 205] c„t iijg jjgad
ofE,

for a return
cut at his
executioner's
head a j'ear
hence

1 satt.— P.

2 quietly.— P.

' certes then 'gan. — P.

* say thee nay. — P. ]p>/ is the abla-
tive of the A.-Sax. demonstrative pro-
noun, SC, SCO, ]>(Bt. F.

* wilt be. — P. \vilt = wishest, pre-
ferest. — H.

* on steed-back, i.e. on horse-back.
—P.

' hond.— P.

" con. — P.

" qar, cause. — F.
'0 jjerhaps To a k'. —P.
" redlye, i. e. readily. Vid. G.D. — P.
'2 blin, linger, delay. — P.

THE GKENE KMGHT.

at the
Greene
Chappell.

148 whither to come, I shall hun tell,

the readie way to the greene chappell,
that place I will be in."

Kay

152

156

the 'King att ease sate full still,
& all his lords said but litle ^

till he had said all his will,
vpp stood S/r Kay thai crabbed 'knight,
spake mightye words that were of height,

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,^ " Kay, of thy dints make noe rouse, ^
thou wottest full litle what '' thou does ^ ;

noe good, but Mickle ill."

Sir Gawaine

says it v"ill
be too bad if
Arthur
doesn't let
him take the
adventure.

164

168

Eche man wold this deed haue done,
vp start Sir Gawaine soone,

vpon his knees can kneele,
he said, " that were great villanye
Without you put this deede to me,

my leege, as I haue sayd ;

Arthur
consents,

but not till
after dinner.

172

" remember, I am jour sisters sonne."
the King 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 ! "

' littel.— P.
^ i. e. they say.
•■' prai.se, ---"-'

extolling, boast. — Jun. per-

haps roKst, noise.
* that.— P.
^ doest. — P.

G. Doug.— P.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

now the greene 'Knight is set att meate,

176 seemly e ^ 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.*

Bredbeddle
dines.

184

when the dinner, it was done,

the King said to Sir Gawaine soone,

withouten any fable
he said, " on ^ you will doe this deede,
I pray lesus bo yo»r speede !

this knight is nothing vnstable."

Arthur
wishes
Gawaine

God speed.

Bredbeddle
is a stiff one.

188

192

the gTeene Knight his head downe layd ;
Sir Gawaine, to the axe he braid *

to strike with eger will ;
he stroke the necke bone in twaine,
the blood burst out in eue/ye vaine,

the head from the body fell.

Gawaine

chops off

Bredbeddle's

head.

196

the greene Knight his head vp hent,-'^
into his saddle wightilye ^ 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,

' MS. secniye, 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. 3-11. 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.

VOL. II.

» an.— P.

^ 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.

* took. — P. The old romance makes
some of the knights kick the head with
their feet, 1. 428.— F.

* actively. — P.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

rides off.

200

204

All had great maruell, thai the see
thai he spake so merrilye

& hare his head in his hand,
forth att the hall dore he rode right,
and thai saw both King and knight

and Lords thai 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 rpon againe,^

sales, " Ai'thnr, hane heere my hand !
when-soeuej- the K-mghi cometh to mee,
a better bnffett sickerlje

I dare him well wan*and."

Arthur is
Ten,' sorry
for Gawaine,

so is Lance-
lot.

Bwears that

220

Gawaine

cheers them

up, 224

the greene K-uight away went.

212 all this was done by enchantment
thai the old witch had wrought,
sore sicke fell Ai'thnr the King,
and for him made great mourning

216 that into such bale was brought.

the Qiceeu, shee weeped for his sake ;
sorry was S('r Lancelott dulake,

& other were di-eery in thought
because he was brought into great penll ;
his mighty e manhood will not availe,

thai before hath freshlye fought.

Sir Grawaine comfort Kioig and Queen,
& all the doughtye there be-deene ^ ;

he bade the shold be still;
said, " of my deede I was neuer feard,^
nor yett I am nothing a-dread,
228 I swere by Saini I^Iichaell ;

[page 206]

' The old romance makes the head ^ immediately,

open its eyelids and speak while it's on F.
the knight's hand, 1. 446. — F. ^ fraid. — P.

-P. or all together. —

THE GHENE KNIGHT.

" for when di-aweth toward my day,
I will dresse me in mine array
my promise to fulfill.
232 Sir," he saitli, " as I hane blis,

I wott not where the greene chappell is,
therfore seeke itt I -will."

the royall Couett ^ verament
236 all rought^ S;'r Gawaines intent,
they thought itt was the best.
they went forth into the feild,
hnigJits that ware both speare and sheeld
240 the priced ^ forth full prest ^ ;

some chuse them to lustingc,
some to dance, Reuell, and sing ;

of mirth the wold not rest.
244 all they swore together in fere,

that and S/r Gawaine ouer-come were,

the wold bren all the west.

Now leaue wee the K-ing in his pallace.

248 the greene knight come home is
to his owne Castle ;
this folke frend ^ when he came home
what doughtye deeds he had done.

252 nothing he wold them tell ;

fuU well hee wist in certaine
that his wiffe loued Si'r Gawaine

that comelye was vnder kell.^
256 listen, Lo/-t?s " ! & yee will sitt,
& yee shall heere the second flB.tt,

what adventures S/r 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
Gavraine if
he"s killed.

Bredbeddle
reaches his
home.

tells no one
what he has
done,

but knows
that his wife
loves
Gawaine.

' royall Courtt. — P. ? covey, Fr.
couvee. — F.

- ? reached, took in. — F,
' pricked. — P.

* ready. — P.

* His folke freyn'd, i. e. inquired. — P.

* A child's caul, any thin membrane.
"Eim or kell wherein the bowels are
lapt." Florio, p. 340. Sir John "rofe
my kell" (deflowered me) MS. Cantab.
Ff. V. 48, fo. Ill, Halliwell's Gloss.— F,

' Lordings. — P.

THE GEENE KNIGHT.

The year is
up, and
Gawaine
must go.

The king
and coiurt
grieve.

260

2f parte. <

264

[Part IL]

The day is come thai Gawaine must gone :
K.nights & Ladyes waxed wann

that were without in that place ;
the ^Ing himselfe siked ill,
ther Queen a swounding almost fell,

to that lorney when he shold passe.

His steed
was dapple-
grey,

268

When he was in armour bright,

he was one of the goodlyest Knights

that euer in brittaine was borne,
they brought Sir Gawaine a steed,
was dapple gray and good att need,*

I tell wt'thouten scorne ;

his bridle
jewelled;

his stirrups
Bilk;

his bridle was with, stones sett,
272 with gold & pearle oue/irett,
& stones of great vertue ;

he was of a furley ^ kind ;

his stirropps were of silke of ynd ;
276 I tell you this tale for true.

he glittered
like gold.

when he rode oner the Mold,
his geere glistered as gold.

by the way as he rode,

280 many furleys ^ he there did see,

fowles by the water did flee,

by brimes & bankes soe broad.

' Gryngolet is the steed's name in the
old romance, bnt his colonr 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.

* ferlie, wonder, wonderful ; Sax.
ferlic, repentiniis, horrendus, Gl. ad
"G.D.— P.

' ? MS. furlegs, for ferlies, wonders.
— F.

THE GRENE KNIOIIT.

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 ' indeed.

Gawaine sees
wondrous
beasts ;

As he rode in an eue[n]ing late,
riding downe a greene gate,^

a faire castell saw hee,^
292 that seemed a place of Mickle pride ;
thitherward Sir Gawaine can ryde

to gett some harborrowe.'*

[page 207]

discerns a

castle.

rides to
it,

thither he came in the twylight,
296 he was ware of a gentle K.night,
the horcl of the place was hee.
Meekly to him Sir Gawaine can speake,
& asked him, "for K.ing 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 ^ 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 ;

' The h is made over an er in the MS.
-F.

^ gate, way, Isl. Gata, via. Gl. ad G.D.
-P.

' hee saw, or saw he there. — P.

■• harburee or harbcre. Lodging. Un'y.
—P.

* " Sere segges," several men, "stabeled
his stede, stif men in-noje." Old Eom.
which lias a fine description of the
castle and room, &c. — F.

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.

Gawaine
tells him all,
not knowing
he was in

fier in chambers burning bright,
candles in chandlers ^ burning light ;
312 to supper the went full yare.^

he sent after his Ladye bright

to come to su.pp with that gentle 'K.nighi,

& shee came blythe w^th-all ;
316 forth shee came then anon,

her Maids following her eche one

in robes of rich pall.^

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.''

324 he cheered the Kjnighi & 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 Yoitr 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."

for ^ his words that were soe smooth,
had Si'r Gawaine wist the soothe,
all he wold not haue told.

' Candlesticks. — P.

^ Yare, acutus, ready, eager, nimble.

^ any rich or fine Cloth, hut properly
purple: taken from the Robe worn by
Bishops. — P. See the description of the

Ladye in the old romance, with " Hir
brest & hir bry3t J^rote bare displayed,"
(p. 30-1).— F.

'' Next line wanting in the MS.— F.

^ for all. — P. The old romance keeps
the secret till the end. — F.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

340 for tJtat was tlie greene 'Knight

thai hee was lodged with that night,
& harbarrowes ' in his hold.

Bredbeddle'a
castle.

he saith, "as to the greene chappell,

344 thitherward I can you tell,
itt is but furlongs 3.
the M-aster of it is a venterous "K-night,
& workes by witchcraft day & night,

348 with many a great furley.^

Bredbeddle
directs
Gawaine to
the Green
Chapel ,

(whose
master
works
witchcraft).

" if he worke with neuer soe much frauce,'
he is curteous as he sees cause.

I tell you sikerlye,
352 you shall abyde, & take jouv rest,
& I will into yonder fforrest

vnder the greenwood tree."

but advises
him to stay
and rest.

they plight their truthes * to beleeue,-^
356 either with other for to deale,

whether it were siluer or gold ;
he said, " we 2 both [sworn^] wilbe,
what soeuer god sends you & mee,
360 to be parted on the Mold."

The greene 'Knight went on hunting ^ ;
Sir Gawaine in the castle beinge,
lay sleeping in his bed.

They agree
to share

whatever
either may

get.

' harberoVd, lodged. — P.

^ wonder. — P.

* perhaps frais — to make a noise,
crash. G. ad G-.D.— P.

•• troth es. — 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 iu accordance with a
certain standard of fitness." — F.

« ? See 1. 481, "wee were both."
The old romance sets out the agreement
at length, 1. 1 105-9 : 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.

' 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.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

Bredbeddle's
witch
mother-in-
law

364 Vprose the old witche with hast thro we, ^
& 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 liim,

368

372

to her daughter can shee say,

" the man thai thou hast wisht many a day,

of him thou maist be sped ;
for Sir Gawaine thai curteous ^nighi
is lodged in this hall all night."

shee brought her to his bedd.

and tells
him to
embrace her.

shee saith, " gentle K.nighi, awake !
& for this faire Ladies sake

thai 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.^ "
S^r Gawaine blushed on the Lady bright,
saith, " jour husband is a gentle K.^iighi,
384 by him thai bought mee deare !

refuses to
shame his
host.

" to me itt were great shame
if I shold doe him any grame,^

thai hath beene kind to mee ;
388 for I haue such a deede to doe,
thai I can neyther rest nor roe,^

att an end till itt bee."

' tho, then. — P. Sc. thro, thra, eager,
emest, Isl. thra, pertinax. Jamieson. The
old romance makes the Green Knight's
wife go to Gawaine of herself, and on
three successive nights. — F.

^ Dere, Isedere, nocere. Lye. — P.

^ Grame — Chaucl . Grief, sorrow, vexa-
tion, anger, madness, trouble, affliction.
S. Xj, am [or Gram,'] furor. Urry. — P.

■* A. -Sax. row, quiet, repose. — F.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

then spake that Ladye gay,
392 saith, " tell me some ' of joicr loumej,
jour succour I may bee ;
if itt be poynt of any warr,
there shall noe man doe yon noe darr ^
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 shea saith, " I dare safely e sweare
there shall noe man doe you deere ^
when you haue it ^ vpon you."

Sir Gawaine spake mildlye in the place,
404 he thanked the Lady & tooke the lace,
& promised her to come againe.

the 'Knight in the fforrest slew many a hind,

other venison he cold none find
408 but wild bores on the plaine.

plentye of does & wild swine,
foxes & other ravine,

as I hard true men tell.
412 Sir Gawaine swore sickerlye

" home^ to jouv owne, welcome you bee,

by him that harrowes hell ! "

The \\'ife

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.

the greene K.night his venison downe Layd ;
416 then to S/r Gawaine thus hee said,
" tell me anon in heght,^

what noueltyes that you haue won,

for heers plenty of venison."
420 S/r Gawaine said full right,

He shares
his venison
with Ga-
•waine,

' Sir.— P.

'^ A.-S. da/; injury, hurt. — F.

' hurt, vid. supra [p. 72, n. 2].— P.

* on you. — P. There is a bit of a ^

or & in the MS. between it and vpon.— 'F.

^ to your own home welcome, &e.
—P.

^ speed ; like higJdng, from to high. — F.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

and Ga-
waine gives
him his
three kisses,

Sir Gawaine sware by S* Leonard,^

" such as god sends, you sliall liaue -part

in liis armes lie hent tlie K.night,
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

eue?- priuilye he held the Lace :
428 that was all the villanye that ener was
prooued by ^ 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 ^ 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 'k.night 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 plaine,
he hard one high ^ vpon a Mountains
a home blowne full lowde.

' 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.

^ on. — P. A.-Sax. be, hi, of, concern-
ing.— F.

^ of.— P. Att is right.— F.

* on high. — P.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

448 lie looked after tlie greene cliappell,
he saw itt stand vnder a liill
couered with euyes ' 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 With strong cheere,
said, " yee be welcome, S[ir] Gawaine heere,
456 it behooveth thee to Lowte." ^
he stroke, & litle perced the- skin,
vnneth the flesh within.

then Sir Gawaine had noe doubt ;

460 he saith, " thou shontest ^ ! why dost thou soe ? "
then S/r Gawaine in hart waxed throe * ;

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 ^ ;
I had but one stroke att thee,
& thou hast had another att mee,
468 noe falshood in me thou found ! "

and the
Green
Knight ;

who calls
him to lay
down his
head.

then strikes,

but hardly
cuts through
the flesh.

He re-
proaches
Gawaine for
shrinking.

Gawaine
threatens
to kill him.

the Knighi said withouten laine,
" I wend I had Sir Gawaine slaine,

the gentlest Knight in this land ^ ;
472 men told me of great renowne,

of curtesie thou might haue woon the crowne

aboue both free & bound,^

Bredbeddle
answers that
Gawaine

' I suppose Ivyes or perhaps Euglies,
i.e. yews. — P.

^ some great 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.

^ shuntest, flinchest, shrinkest. — F.

^ forte idem ac Thra, apud G. Doiig^
ferox, acer, audax, vel potius pertinax.
Vide Lye.— P.

5 bond.- P.

« Londe.— P. ' bond.— P.

THE GRENE 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 ^ be put fro thee,
it is tlie Moe pittye :
Sir Grawaine ! thou wast not Leele ^
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 ^

of my venerye ■* ;
484 if the lace had neuer beene wrought,

to haue slaine thee was neue?- 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 with nay ;
but wilt thou doe as I bidd thee,
take me to Arthurs court with thee,

492 then were all to my pay.^ "

Gawaine

They go
back to
Hutton
Castle,
and next
day on to
Arthur's
court.

now are the Knights accorded thore ^ ;
to the castle of hutton "^ 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 & Ught.

All rejoice
at Gawaine's
return.

all the Court was full faine,
500 aliue when they saw Sir Gawaine ;
they thanked god abone.^

' perhaps these points, q. d. thou hast
forfeited these qualities. — P.

^ i. e. loyal, honourable, true. — P.

' A.-S. d(£l, part.— F.

■* venison, or rather hiinting. So in
Chaucr. Fr. Venerie. Urry. — P.

^ content, liking. — P.

" there.— P.

' Hutton Manor-house, [Somerset-
ahire] : the hall, 36 feet by 20, is of the
fifteenth century, with arched roof and
panelled chimney-piece. Bo mestic Archi-
tecture, iii. 342. The scene is laid "in
the west country e," see 1. 39, 1. 515. — F.

* ? MS. aboue. — F. aboone, abone,
idem. — P.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

thai is the matter & the case
why K-iiights of the bathe weare the lace
504 vntill they haue wonen their shoen,^

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 K-ing granted him his boone.

This is why
knights of
the Bath
wear the
lace till
they've won
their spurs,
or a lady
tal:es the
lace ofE.

512

516

Thus endeth the tale of the greene Knight, [page 2io]
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

in Arthurs days our King ! ffilis.

God bring
all my
hearers to
heaven !
This little
Btory befell
in the West
Country.

' See p. 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. Eather
hard measure to lose one's "3 points"
for that.— F.]

The earliest known existing copy of this Komance 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

'271 Stanzffs.— 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." WTien 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 wliat 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 slie 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 sill TRIAMORE.

King Arradas beheld his Queen ;
Him thought that he had her seen,

Slie 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 yoirr Queen ;
Your steward did me ill teen.

That e\al 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
AVhen 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 Eomance.

y^^iT Low 1 lesus Christ, o 2 heauen King !

grant you all his dears blessing,

& his heauen for to win !
hsteT^^ ■* ^^ y°^ ^^^^ ^ stond ^ lay to jouv eare,

ataie^^^°" of ad ventures you shall heare

that wilbe to jouv liking,

of King of 3- Kmj^ & of a queeuG

8 thai had great Icy them betweene ;

Sir Arradas * was his name ;

and Queen ^^ ^^^ ^ queene named Margarett,

Margaret, ^-y^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^ Steele, & sweet,

defamed by 12 & full falsB brought in fame ^

' Now. — Cop. (or Copland's edition. ■• Ardus. — Ca. (or Cambridge text,

Collated by Mr. Hales.) ed. Halliwell.— F.)

^ our. — Cop. * evil report, disrepute ; L. fama (in

^ stounde. — Cop. a bad sense), ill-repute, infamy, scandal ;

SIR TRIAMOKK.

by the K.iiigs steward that Marrocke liiglit,
a traitor & a false kniglit :

herafter yee -will say all the same,
hee looued well thai Ladye gent ;
& for shee wold not with him consent,

he did that good Queene much shame.

because she
would not
yield to liini.

this 'Ki7ig loued well his Queene
because shee was comlye ^ to be scene,

& as true as the turtle on tree,
either to other made great Moane,
for children together had they none

begotten on their bodye ;

Arradas and
Margaret

lament
that they
are childless,

therfore the T^ing, I vnderstand,
made a vow to goe to the holy land,

there for to fight & for to slay ^ ;
& praid god that he wold send him tho
grace to gett a child be-tweene them tow,

that the rig'ht heire miarht bee.

and Arradas

TOWS to go
to the Holy
Land,

praying God
to send him
an heir.

for his vow he did there make,

& 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 JVIild,
as god it wold, hee gott ^ a child ;

but they both wist itt naught.

He begets a
child on his
AV-ife,

& on the morrow when it was day
the Kw(/ hyed on his lourney ;
for to tarry, he it not thought.

and next
day starts
on his
journey.

famosus, infamous. (White.) Compare
For j'f it may be founde in thee
That thou them fawc for enmyte,
Thou shalt be taken as a felon,
And put full depe in my pryson.

VOL. ir.

The Squyr of Lowe Dcgrc. I. 392
(Ritson iii. 161, Hall!).— F.
' semely. — Cop.
- sle. — Cop.
^ gate. — Cop.

SIR TKIAMORE.

Queen

Margaret
mourns :

40 then the Queene began to moume

because her Lori wold noe longer soiourne ;
shee sighed fall sore, & sobbed oft.

their parting
is sad.

the K-ing & his men armed them right,
both Jjords, Barrons, & many a knight,

w^th.him for to goe.
then betweene her & the King
was much sorrow & mourninge

when the shold depart in too.

Arradas
charges
Marrock to
take care of
his Queen,

he kissed & tooke his leaue of the Queefie^
& other Ladies bright & sheene,

& of Marrocke his steward alsoe ;
the 'King com7?^anded him on paine of his life
for to keepe well his queene & wiflfe

both in weale & woe.

and goes to
the Holy
Land.

Marrock

now is the 'King forth gone

to the place where god was on the crosse done,

& Avarreth there a while,
then bethought this false steward —
as yee shall here after[ward,^] —

his lord & King to beguile ;

wooes the
Queen,

and seeks to
lie with her.

Margaret is
true,

he wooed ^ the Queene day & night
for to lye w<'th her, & he might ;

he dread no creature thoe.
64 fFull fayre hee did that Lady speake, [page 211]

that he might in bed with that Ladye sleepe ;

thus full oft he prayed her thoe.

but shee was stedfast in her thought,
68 & heard them speake, & said nought
till hee all his case ^ had told.

MS. hereafter. P. has added ward.—'F. '■' wowed.— Cop.

tale. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

then shee said, " Marrocke, hast thou not thought
all thai thou speakeest is fFor nought ?
72 I trow not that thou wold ' ;

and re-
proaches
Marrock.

" for well my hord did trust thee,
when hee to you deliuered mee

to haue me vnder the^ 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 thai Ladye,
" my Lord is gone now verelye

against gods foes to flight ;
&, Without the more wonder bee,
hee shall come noe more att thee,

as I am a true knieht.

Marrock

tells the
Queen

that Arradas
is sure never
to return ;

" & Madam, wee will worke soe priuilye,
that wethere ^ he doe Hue or dye,

for of this shall ■* witt noe wight. ^ "
then waxed the Queene wondcrous [wroth,^]
& swore many a great othe

as shee was a true woman.

and promises
to keep their
Bin secret.

Margaret
angrily

shee said, " traitor ! if euer thou be soe hardiye
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 ^

thou shalt haue the law of the land."

threatens to

hang

Marrock,

if he says
another
word to her.

' I didn't think you were capable of
this.— r.

■'' they. — Cop.

^ After the first e an h is marked out.
— F.

* there shall. — Ca.

* man. — P.

° Added by Percy.— F.

' tyce me to do a mysse. — Cop.

G 2

SIR TRIAMORE.

Marrock
assures her
lie meant
her no
wrong,

but only to
try her
truth.

100

S/r MaiToccke said, "Laclye, mercye !
I said itt for noe villaine,

by lesu, heauen Kinge !
but only for to prone jouv will,
whether that you. were good or ill,

& for noe other thinge ;

Now he
knows she is
true.

she must not
be vexed.

" but now, Madam, I may well see
104 you are as true as turtle on the tree ^
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.

^ soe With treason & trecherye
116 he thought to doe her villanye ;
thus to himselfe he said,
night & day hee laboured then
for to betray ^ 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 K/»r/ Arradas speake wee,
tliat soe farr in heathinnesse is hee

to fight against gods fone ■* ;

' as stele on tree. — Ca.

* This stanza is not in Ca. — F.

' deceyue. — Cop.
^ fonne. — Cop.

sill TRIAMORE.

tliere with his army & all his might
128 slew many a sarrazen • in fight,
great words of them there rose

in the heathen Land, & alsoe in Pagaine ^ ;

& in eue?ye other Land that they come bye,
132 there sprang of him great losse.^

and his men

slay

Saracens

and grow
famous.

when [he •*] had done his pilgrimage,
& labored all that great voyage ^
wt'th all his good will & lybertye, —
136 att flflome lorden & att Bethlem,^
& att Caluarye beside lerusalem,
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 lined 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 ^ strond.

he longs for
home.

and sets sail.

the shippes did strike their sayles eche one,
the men were glad the Kw^ came home

vnto his owne Land.
148 there was both mirth & game,

the Q^^ee7le of his cominge was glad & faine,

Eche of them told other tydand.^

Arradas
reacbes
home,

meets
Margaret,

the 'King at last his Queene beheld,
152 & saw heer goe great with childe :

[& ^] hee wondred att that thinge.

and finds
her great
■with child,

to his
wonder.

sarzyn. — Cop.
Pagaiiy. — Cop.
* Loos or fame, Fama. Proniptorium.

— F.

* he.— Ca.

* vayge. — Cop.

* Bedleem. — Cop,
' salte. — Cop.

^ tydynge. — Cop.
» A hole in the MS.-

SIK TRIAMORE.

Marrock
tells him

that the
child is

certainly
not his. His
Queen has
been false ;
another
knight begot
the child.

"What?
When I put
her in your
charge? "

Marrock

excuses

himself,

many a time he did lier kisse,
& m^ade great ioj without misse ;
166 his hart' made great reioceinge.

soone after the Kjing hard tydinges newe
by Marroccke : that false knight vntme
With reason his lord gan fraine,
160 " my lord," he sayd, " for gods ^ byne ^ !
for of tJiah childe ^7iat neue?- was thine,^
why art thow soe fayne ?

" you wend thai itt jotir owne bee ;
164 but," he said, " Sir, fFor certaintye
yoMr Qtteewe hath you betraine ;

another K.nighi, 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^ ;
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 shea made for thee,

as though shee had loued noe more ;

but declares
he saw a
knight lie
with her,

for which he
killed him,

" I trowed on her noe villanye
till I saw one lye her by,
1 80 as the Mele ^ had wrought,
to him I came with Egar mood,
& slew the traitor as he stood ;
full sore itt [me] forethought.

' First written halt. —

* Goddes.— Cop.

' Goddys pj'ne. — Oa.

* MS. thine was.— F.

* weal & woe. — P.

^ ? Fr. 7nal, evil ; or mesUe, a mixture,
mingling, moiling. Cotgrave. — F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

184 " then shee trowed shee sliold be shent,
& promised me both Land & rent ;

soe fayre shee me besought
to doe With her all my will
188 if thai I wold [keepe] me still,
& tell you naught."

and the
Queen pro-
mised him

herself for
his silence.

" of this," said the 'K.ing, " I haue great wonder
for sorrow my hart will breake assunder ^ !
192 why hath shee done amisse ?
alas ! to whome shall I me nione,
sith I haue lost my comlye Queene
tliai I was wont to kisse ? "

Arradas
sorrows.

He has lost
his Queen

196

200

the ^ing said, " Marroccke, what is thy read ?
it is best to turne to dead ^

my ladye thai hath done me this ^ ;
now because thai shee is false to mee,
I will neuer more her see,

nor deale with her, I-wisse.^"

What can he
do? He'll
kill her.

the steward said, " LortZ, doe not soe ;
thou shalt neither bums ne sloe,^
204 but doe as I you shall you tell."
Marroccke sayd, " this councell I :
banish her out of yowr Land priuilye,
far into exile.

Marrock

advises

him to
banish her.

208 " deliuer her an ambling ^ steede,
& an old ^niglii to her lead ;

thus by my councell see ^ yee doe ;

[page 213] giye 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.

^ ywys. — Cop.

^ flo.— Cop.

* ambelynge. — Cop. oolde. — Ca.

" loke. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMOEE.

and money.

and let her
go.

& giue tliem some spending money
212 tJiat may them out of the land bring ;
I wold noe better then soe.

Arradas

" & 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.^"

Qneen
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,
& thai was great pittye & sin.

He gives her
an old bteed,

an old
knight,
Sir Roger,
to look after
her,

he did her cloth in purple ^ weede,
& set her on an old steed
228 that was both crooked & almost blinde ;
he tooke her an old Klnight,
kine to the Queene, Sir Rodger ^ hight,
that was both curteous ^ & kind.

and three
days to quit
the land in,

(or the
Queen will
be burnt,)

232 3 dayes he gaue them leaue ^ to passe,
& after tliat day sett was,
if men might them find,
the Queene shold burned ^ be starke dead
236 in a ffyer with flames redd :

this came of the stewards ^ mind.^

1 blyne. — Cop.

* He let clothe hur in sjTnpulle.-
^ Eoger.— Cop.

* curteyse. — Cop.

* And gaf them twenty dayes.-
-Ca. ^ brenned. — Cop.

' stiiardes. — Cop.
» minid, in the MS.— F.

Ca.

SIR TRIAMORE.

40'f florences for tlieir expence *
the Ki'n^ did giue them in his presence,
240 & comajinded them to goe.

the Ladye mourned as shee shold dye ;
for all this shee wist not whye
hee fared with her soe.

also forty
florins.

Queen

Margaret
mourns.

244 that good knight comforted the Qneene,
& 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,^]
& cryed & sighed full sore ;

Lords, Knights, & ladyes gent
mourned for her when shee went,
252 & be- way led ^ her that season.

the Queene began to make sorrow & care
when shee from the K-ing shold fare
With wrong, against all reason.
256 forth they went, in number'* 3,

Sir Rodger, the Queene, & his greyhound trulye ;
ah ! o ^ worth wicked treason !

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 owne men priuilye
264 that wold assent him till ;

all vnder a Wood ^ 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,

' Tliretty florens to there spendynge.
-Ca.

2 This line is from Copland's text. — H.

3 MS. he wayled.— F.

* nunnber, in the MS.— F.

* wo. — Cop.

^ wodes. — Cop. The W is made like
vv in the MS.— F.

perceive
Marrock's

90 SIR TRIAMORE.

to work his 268 & tliere lie tliouglit verelye

lust on her. , . -i r\ j^ x i i

liis good C^ueene lor to lye by,
his lusts 1 for to fulfill.

& when hee came into the wood,
The Queen 272 Sir Rodger & the Queene soe good,
Koger & there ^ to passe with-out doubt ;

wi'th that they were ware of the steward,

how hee was coming to them ward
276 With a ffull great rout.

treason. " heere is treason ! " then said the Queene.

" alas ! " said Roger, " what may this meane ?
w^th foes wee be sett round about."
premrir ^^^ ^^^ Knight sayd, " heere will wee dwell ;

Our liffe wee shall full deere sell, [page 2i4]

be they neuej- soe stout.

for defence. "Madam," he sayd, "be not affrayd,

284 for I thinke heere with this sword
that I shall make them lowte."
Marrock ^-^^^^ cryed the steward to S/r Rodger on hye,

kuThim.' *" & said, " hord,^ traitor ! thou shalt dye !

288 for that I goe about."

Sir Roger ^^"^ Rodger said, " not for thee !

defies him, ^^ ^^^^-^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^,^ ^^^^ .

for with thee will I fight."
292 he went to him shortly e,

& old Sir Rodger bare him manfullye '*
like a full hardye Knight ;

attacks his ^^e hewed on them boldlye ;

' 296 there was none of that companye

soe hardye nor sow ^ wight,

' lustes.— Cop. is thereto one word ?— H.

^ ? construction. Is there miswritten ^ olde. — Cop. ■* manly. — Cop.

for thought, or is thought understood, or ^ so. — Cop.

SIR TCIAMORE.

Sir Rodger liitt ' one on the head

that to the girdle the sword yeed,

300 then was hee of them quitte ^ ;

splits one to
the girdle,

he smote a stroke with a sword ^ good
tJiat all about them ran the blood,

soe sore he did them smite ;
304 tnilye-hee,^ his greyhound that was soo '' good,
did lielpe his master, & by him stood,

& bitterlye can hee byte.

wounds
others,

and his
greyhound,
Trulyhee,
helps.

then that Lady, that fayre foode,^
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,''^
312 for shee was in. great dread.

Queen
Margaret

and hides
herself.

316

Sir Rodger then the Queene can behold,
& of his liffe he did nothing hold ;

his good grayhound did help him indeed,
&, as itt is in the romans ^ told,
14 he slew of yeomen ^ bold ; '*^

soe he quitted him in that steade.

Sir Roger

kills fourteen
yeomen,

if hee had beene armed, I-wisse ^ ^
320 all the Masterye had been liis ;
alas hee lacked weed,
as good Sir Rodger gaue a stroake,
behind him came S/'r Marroccke, —
324 that euill might he speed, —

but Marrock

' hyt.— Cop.
2 quyte. — Cop.
^ swcrde. — Cop.
■• Trewe-loue. — Ca.

* de at the end has been marked out
of the MS.— F.

* fode. — Cop. person. — F.

' grere. — Cop. grove.— F.

* Komaynes. — Cop.

^ yemen. — Cop.

'" xl'.' Syr Eoger downe can folde. —
Ca.
" ywis. — Cop.

SIR TETAMORE.

stabs him in
the back

and kills
him.

Marrock

searches
everywhere
for the
Queen,

lie smote S/r Rodger with a speare,
& to tlie ground lie did liim beare,

& fast that K-night did bleed.
328 S^'r Marroccke gaue him sucb a wound
that lie dyed there on ground,

& that was a sinfull deede.

332

336

now is Rodger slaine certainlye.
he rode forth & let him Lye,

& sought after the Queene.
fast hee rode, & sought euerye way,
yet wist he not where the Queene Laye.

then said the traitor teene ; ^

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 lourney 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 Str Rodger Lay.
stabbing Sir ^he steward ^ him thrust throughout,

for of his death he had noe doubt,
348 & this the storye doth say.

and goes
home,

Koger s
corpse on
the way.

and having
lost fouiteen
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.^

' If a stanza is not omitted, said must
mean assayed, tried. — F.
^ stuarde.— Cop.

xl. he had chaunged for oone.
Ther skaped but two away. — Ca.

SIR TRIAMORE.

then the Queene was ffull woe,
356 And shee saw that 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, " thai I was borne !
my trew 'knight that I liaue 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.

& then shee went & tooke her steed,
& wold noe longer there abyde

lest men shold find her there.
376 shee said, " Si'r Roger, now thou art dead,
who will the right way now me lead ?

for now thow mayst speake noe more."

Tlie 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.'
god wott her hart was sore !
Avhat for sorrow & dread,
fast away shee can her speede,
384 shee wist not wither nor where.

kisses his
corpse,

and speeds
away.

' This incident is not in Ca. — F.

The hound

licks his
master's
wounds, to
heal them.

What love I

The hound

scrapes a
grave,
and buries
his master.

Margaret

rides on into
Hungary.

The pains of
labour come

SIR TRIAMORE.

the good grayhound for waile & woe
from tlie 'Knight hee wold not goe,

but Lay & licked Ms wound ;
388 lie waite ^ to liaue healed them againe,
& therto he did his paine :

loe, such loue is in a hound ^ !

392

396

this knight lay till he did ^ stinke ;
the greayhound he began to thinks,

& scraped a pitt anon ;
therin he drew the dead ■* corse,
& couei'ed itt with earth & Mosse,^

& from him he wold not gone.

the grayhound lay still there ;
this Queene gan forth to fare

for dread of her fone ;
400 shee had great sorrow in her hart,

the thornes pricked her wonderous smart,*"

shee wist not wither to goe.

this lady forth fast can hye

404 into the land of Hugarye ^ ;

thither came shee w^th 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 ^ 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.

' expected. — F.

'^ Grete kyndenes ysin howndys. — Ca.
3 The last d is made over an s in the
MS.— F. * deed.— Cop.

* And scraped on hym hothe ryne and

mosse. — Ca.

^ wonder smert. — Cop.

' Hongarye. — Ca. Hongrye. — Cop.

* for trauell, travail. — F. trauayll.
-Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

416

420

shee was deliuered of a mancliild sweete ;
& when it began to crye & weepe,

it ioyed her hart greatly e.
soone after, when shee might stirr,
shee tooke her child to her fall neere,

And wrapt ^ itt full softlye. [page 2i6]

What for wearye & for woe,
they fell a-sleepe both towe ;

her steed stood her behind.
424 then came a 'knight rydand there,^

& found this ladye soe louelye of cheere

as hee hunted after the hind.

the Knight hight Bernard Mowswinge,^
428 that found the Q,ueene sleepinge,
vnder the greenwoode lyandc*

softlye he went neere & neere ;

he went on foot, & beheld her cheere,
432 as a 'Knight curteous & kind.

ho awaked that ladye of beawtye ^ ;
shee looked on him pitteouslee,

& was affray d " full sore.
436 he said, " what doe you here, Madame ?
of whence be you, or wliats jouv name ?

haue you yo«r men forlorne 7 ? "

" Sir," shee sayd, " if you will witt,*
440 my name is ^ called Margerett ;
in Arragon I was borne ;

heere I sufferd much greefe ;

helpe me. Sir,'" out of thisMischeefe !
444 att some toAvne 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?

" Margaret ;

help me ! "

' wrauped. — Cop.
^ nere. — Cop.

' Sir Barnarde Messengere. — Ca. Bar-
nard Mausewynge. — Cop.

* lynde. — Cop.

* beaute. — Cop.

* aferde. — Cop.

' MS. forlorme. — F. forlore. — P.

* wete. — Cop.

9 MS. is is; ?./br it is.— F.
'" There appears a word like it marked
out here in the MS.— F.

SIR TKIAMORE.

Sir Bernard

takes her

and her
baby home,

the Knight belield the Ladye good ;
hee 1 thought shee was of gentle blood

that was soe hard bestead ^ ;
448 he tooke her vp curteouslye,
& the child that lay her bye ;

them both with him he led,

gets a
woman to
tend her,

and gives
her all she
wants.

She christens
her boy
Triamore,

& m.ade her haue a woman att will,
452 tendinge of her, as itt was skill,^
all for to bring her a-bedd.
whatsoener shee wold haue,
shee needed itt not long to crane,
456 her speech was right soone sped.

the christened the child with great honour,
& named him S*r Tryamorb.

then they were of him glad ;
460 great gifts to him was giuen
of LorcZs & ladyes by-deene,

in bookes as I read.

and stays
with her
new friends.

Triamore is

taught

courtesy.

there dwelled that Ladye longe
464 with much loy them amonge ;

of her the were neuer wearye.
the child was taught great nurterye * ;
a M-aster had him vnder his care,
468 & taught him curtesie.^

this child waxed wonderous well,
of great stature both of fleshe & fell ;
euerye man loued him trulye.

and all folk
love him.

472 of his companye all folke were glad ;

indeed, noe other cause they had,

the child was gentle & bold.

' MS. shee.— F. And.— Ca.

- bestadde. — Cop.

^ skell. — Cop. reason. — F.

* nurture. — P. norture. — Cop.
^ Scho techyd hur sone for to wyi'ke,
And taght hym evyr newe. — Ca.

.SlU TUIAMOKE.

Now of tlie Quceue let wee bee,
476 & of the grayhound speakc wee
that I erst of told.

Sir Roger's
greyhound

long 7 yeeres, soe god me saue,
lie did keepe liis 'Masters graue,
480 till that hee waxed old ;

tliis Gray -hound Sir Roger kept • long,
& brought him vp sith he was younge,
in story as it is told ;

keeps to Ms
master's
grave seven
years,

for Sir Roger
had brought
him up.

484

488

therfore he kept soe there
for the 2 space of 7 yeere,

& goe from him he ne wold,
euer vpon his Masters graue he lay,
there might noe man haue him away

for heat neither for cold,

The hound
never leaves
217] the grave,

Without it were once a day
he ran about to gett his prey ^
492 of beasts that were bold,

conyes, when he can them gett ;
thus wold he labor for his meate,
yett great hungar he had in how."*

except

to get food.

496

500

& 7 yeeres he dwelled there,
till itt beffell on that yeere,

euen on christmasse day,
the gray-hound (as the story sayes)
came to the K.ivgs palace"^

without any^ delay.

One Christ-
mas
the hound

goes to

Arradas's

palace,

liad kepte. — Cop.
By the. — Cop.
praye. — Cop.

— F.

holde.— Cop. How, care. Halliwell.

palayes. — Cop.
ony. — Cop.

VOL. II.

SIE TRIAMOllE.

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 tliey Ijords were ^ sett at naeate, soono
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 ;
flPuU gentlye he did his kind,

speed better when he might.

the grayhound ran forth his way
512 till he came where his 'Master Lay,
as fast as eue?* he mought.
the king marueiled at that deed,
from whence he went, & whither he yeed,
516 or who him thither brought.

the 'King thought he had scene him ere,
but he wist not well where,
therfor he said right nought.
620 soone he bethought him then
that he did him erst ken,

& ^ still stayd in that thought.

the other day, in the same wise,
524 when the King shold from his meate rise,
the Grayhound came in thoe ;
all about there he sought,
but the steward found he nought ;
528 then a2:aine he beg-an to eroe.

the[n] sayd the King in that stond,
"methinkes it is S/r 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 ;

' The first e is made over an h in the MS. — F. * sate styll in a. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

536

540

" if tJiat they be into this Land come,
we shall haue word therof soone

& Within short space ;
for neue?* since the went I-wisse
I saw not the gray hound ere this ;

it is a marueilous case !

" when he cometh againe, follow him,
fo[r] ene^TQore he will run ^

to liis Masters dwelling place ;
544 van & 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 ^ 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 ^ ;

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 M-aster was,
560 he Layd him downe beside the grasse

And barked at the men againe. [page 2i8]

there might noe man him from the place gett,
& yett With staues the did him beate,
664 that he was almost slaine.

to Sir Roger's
grave,

which he mil
not quit.

' renne. — Cop.

' werere, in the MS. — F.

^ MS. o over a y. — F. The. ho\Tid
■wrekyd hys maystyrs dethe. — Ca.

100

They return,

and Arradas

says that
Marrock has
slain Sir
Eoger.

He orders a
search for
his corpse.

They find
the body,

SIR TUIAMORE.

& wlien the men saw noe better boote,
tben tlie men yeed home on horsse & foote,
w^th great wonder, I weene.
568 the 'King said, " by gods paine,

I trow Sir Marrocke hath Sir Rodger slaine,
& w^th treason famed * my Qneene.

" 8'OG yee & seeke there againe ;
572 for the hounds M-Cister there is slaine,
some treason there hath beene."

thither they went, soe god me saue,

& found Sir Roger in his graue,
576 for tJiat was soone seene :

and take it
to Arradas,

who weeps,

& there they looked him there vpon,
for he was hole both flesh & bone,

& to the court his body they brought.
580 for when the King did him see,
the teares ran downe from his eye,
full sore itt him forethought.

laments over

Mari-ock's

treachery,

the grayhound ^ he wold not from his course ^ fare

584 then was the King cast in care,

& said, " Marroccke hath done me teene ;
slaine he hath a curteous Knighi,
& fained"* my Queene wrth great vnright,

588 as a traitor keene."

and hanged.

the King let draw anon-right
the stewards bodye, that false Knight,
with horsse through the towne ;
592 then he hanged him on a tree,
that all men might his body see,
that he had done treason.

' defamed. — F. flemed. — Cop.
^ grehound. — Cop.
^ corse. — Cop.

* for famed, defamed. — F.
— Ca. flemed. — Cop.

flemyd.

SIR TRIAMORE.

101

Sir Rogers Body the next day
596 the K-ing buryed in good array,
with many a bold baron, i

Sir Roger's
corpse is
buried,

600

604

the Grayhound was neuer away
by night nor yet by day,

but on the ground he did dye.
the ^'ing did send his messengere
in euerye place far & neere

after the Queene to spye ;
but for ought he cold enquire,
he cold of that Ladye nothing heare ;

therfore the K.{ng was sorrye.^

and his
hound

An'adas tries
to get

tidings of
his Queen,

but can hear
none.

608

612

the K.iiig sayd, " I trow noe reed,
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

throughe his false treacherye."

He thinks
her dead,

616

this 'King lined in great sorrow
both euening & morrow

till that hee were brought to ground,
he lined thus many a yeere
With mourning & With euill cheere,

his sorrowes lasted long; :

and lives in
sorrow

620

624

& euer it did him great paine

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 ;

for woe then did hee sound. ^

grieving
over Sir
Roger's
death

and his
pregnant
Queen's
banishment.

' Percy marks tlio three last lines
as separate stanzas, but I add them

to those that precede them. — F.
- swoon. — F.

102

SIR TEIAMORE.

He mourns

and is sad at
heart.

long time tlms lined tlie K-ing
in gi'eat sorrow & Mourning,
& offcentime did weepe ;
628 lie tooke great thouglit more & more,
It made his liart verrye sore,
his sighs were sett soe deepe.

[page 219]

Meantime
Triamore
is fourteen,

now of the 'King wee will bline,
632 & of the Queene let vs begin,
& Sir • Tryamore ;
for when he was 14 yeere old,
there was noe man soe bold
636 durst doe him dishonor ^ :

strong,
and tall,

and well-
doing.

in euerye time ^ both stout & stronge,
& in stature large & longe,

comlye of hye color ;
640 all thai euer 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 thai time sikerlye
644 dyed the K.ing of Hungarye ^

thai was of great age I-wiss ^ ;
he had no heire his land to hold
but a daughter was 14 yeers old ^ ;
648 faire [Hellen ''] shee named is.

white as a
lily.

shee was as white as lilye^ flower,
& comely, of gay color,

the fairest of any towne or tower ;

' her Sonne. — Cop.
^ dysshonoure. — Cop.
^. lymme. — Cop.

* Hungry. — Cop.

^ The second s is made oyer an c in
the MS.— F.

* of vij. yerys eldo. — Ca.

' See 1. 775. Hellene, 1. 1587 below.—
P. Her name Helyne ys. — Ca. Elyne.
—Cop.

^ The top of a long s whose bottom is
marked through, is left in the MS. before
the first l. — F.

sill TRIAMORE.

103

652 shee was well sliapen of foote & hand,
peere sliee 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 councell gan her reade,
' gett her a lord her land to lead,
660 to rule the realme 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

668

& when her councell had sayd soe,
for great need shee had tlierto,

shee graunted them without Lye :
the Lady said, " I will not feare
but he [be] prince or princes peere,

& cheefe of all chiualrye."

She consents.

therto shee did consent,
& gaue her Lords cominandement
672 a great lusting for to crye ;
& at the lustine, shold soe bee,
what man that shold win the degree,^
shold Tvin that Ladye tinilye.

676 the day of lusting then was sett,
halfe a yeere wt'thout lett,
without any more delay,
because the might haue good space,
680 Lords, 'k7iights, dukes, in euerye place,
for to be there that day.

proclaims a
jousting.

the winner
at which
shall wm her
too.

The day is
fixed.

' Fr. degrc, a degree, ranke, or place of honour. Cotgrave. — F.

104

SIR TRIAMORE.

The best
lords

prepare to
contend.

Triamore
hears of the
iousthig,

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,'
of the States thai were honest ^
attyred ^ many a Lady gay.

688 great was thai chiualrye

thai came thai time to Hungarye,

there for to lust wt'th might,
at last Triamore hard tyding
692 that there shold be a lusting ;
thither wold he wend.

if he wist thai he might gaine
With all his might, he wold be faine '*
696 thai gay Ladye for to win ;

hee had noe horsse nay noe other geere,
Nor noe weapon with him to beare ;
thai brake his hart in twaine.

[page 220]

He asks Sir
Bernard to
lend him
some.

700 he thought both euen & morrow

where he might some armour borrowe,

therof wold hee be faine
to S/r Barnard then he can wend,^
704 thai he wold armour lend **

to iust against the knio-hts amaiue.'^

and the
knight tells
him he
knows no-
thing about
it.

Triamore
asks to
be tried.

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 thai I bee
till I haue assay d in feeld ? "

' bestee. — Cop.
^ moost honasty. — Cop.
' dressed herself: parallel to 1, 684.
States may mean " nobles." — F.

■• He wolde purvey hym fulle fayne.
— Ca.

•' mene. — Cop.

•^ lene. — Cop. ' of niayne. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

105

712

716

then S/r Barnard thai was full liend,
said, " Triamor, if thow wilt wend,

thou shalt lacke noe weed ;
I will lend thee all my geere,
horsse & harneis, sheild & spere,

thou art nothino- 1 to dread ;

Sir Bernard
then prom-
ises to lend

him horse
and arms,

" alsoe thither wc'th thee will I ryde,
& eucr nye be by thy side
720 to lielpe thee if thou haue need ;
all things tliai thow wilt haue,
gold & siluer, if thow wilt craue,
thy lourney for to speed."

go with him,

and provide
him money.

724 then was Triamore glad & light,

& thanked Barnard wtth all his might

of his great proferinge.
ihai 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,

and she gives
it him
sorrowfully.

"36

740

& when it was on the Morrow day,
Triamore was in good array,

armed & well dight ;
when he was sett on his steed,
he was a man both ^ lenght & bread,^

& goodlye in mans sight.

In the

morning,

Triamore

nothenge. — Cop.

* in. — Cop.

* bredc. — Cop.

106

SIR TRIAMOEE.

starts with
Sir Bernard.

then Triamore to tlie feeld can ryde,
& Sir Barnard by liis side ;
744 they were locund & light ;
there was none in all the feild
that was more seemlye vnder sheild ;
he rode full like a knisfht.

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/
for to behold that play ;
there was many a seemlye K.night,
752 princes, Lords, & dukes of Might,
themselues for to assay,

helmed
knights.

w^'th 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,^
there durst noe man say nay.

happens to
choose his
father, King
Arradas's
side.

760 there was much price ^ & pride

when eue/ye man to other can ryde,

& lords of great renowne ;
it beflfell triamore that tyde
764 for to be on his fathers side,
the King; of Arrasfon.

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]

' Hye up in a garett. — Ca.

* warde. — Cop.

prees. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

107

772

776

' then cryed Sir Barnard w^^tli honor,

"A TRIAMOR, a TEIAMOKE ! "

for men shold him. ken.
Mayd Hellen ^ that was soe mild,
more shee beheld teiamore the child

then all the other men.

and Sir
Bernard
shouts "A
Triamore"
to make him
known.
Queen Helen
views him
with favour.

then the K/hy/s sonne of Nanarrne ^
wold not his body warne ■* ;
rso 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 g-round cast,^
they sate soe wonderous fast,

like men of much might,
then came forth a Bachelour,^
788 a prince proud wzthout peere ;

Sir lames, forsooth, he hight ;

neither is
thrown.

Sir James of
Almaigne

he was the Emperours sonne of Almaigne ^ ;
he rode Sir triamore * 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 sheUds might not last;
& thus it dured till night ;

next charges
Triamore,

and is un-
horsed.

The joust
lasts

till night.

' Ca. puts this stanza after the next.
-F.

^ Elyne. — Cop.

' Armoiiy. — Ca. Nauerne. — Cop.
* A.-S. warnian, to take care of, beware.

— F.

* Ca. makes Triamore bear him down,
and transfers this to Sir James in
the next stanza. — F.

^ batchelere. — Cop.
' Almaine. — Cop.

* ? MS. Triamoir.— F.

108

silt TIUAMOUE.

Next day,

but wlien tlie sun drew neere ^ west,
800 and all tlie Lords went to rerst,
[ISTot so the maide Elyne.^]
the Knighis attired them in good arraye,
on steeds great, with trappers ^ gaye,
before the sun can ■* shine ;

it begins
again,

and the
knights
charge
fiercely.

804 then to the feeld the pricked prest,
& e^ferye man thought himselfe best
[As the mayden faire they paste. ^J
then they feirclye ran together,
great speres in peeces did shim^wer,^

808 their timber migrht not last.

King

Arradas

is thrown by
his son
Triamore,

who also
vanquishes
Sir James.

& at thai time there did run**
the Km*/ Arradas of Arragon :

his Sonne Triiamore mett him in tJiat tyde,
812 & gaue his father such a rebound

that harse & man fell to the ground,^
soe stoutlye gan he ryde.

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 S('r Barnard faine.

Queen Helen
falls in love
with
Triamore.

that Maid of great honor

sett her loue on younge triamore

that fought alwayes as a feirce ^ Lyon.

' ferre. — Cop.

^ This line is from Copland's text. — H.

' The trappings of horses. Halliwell.
—F.

* gan. — Cop.

^ shyiier. — Cop.

" dyde ronne. — Cop.

' Tryamore must be 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 reset! es his son from the Emperor's
men, 1. 866-7.— F.
^ fyers. — Cop.

SIR TKIAMORE.

109

824 speres tliai day many were spent,

& With swords there was many a stripe lent,
till the [re] failed light of the sunn.

828

832

on the Morrow all they were faine
for to come into the feild againe

With great spere & sheild.
then the Duke of Siuille, Sir Phylar,i
thai was a doughtye knight in eue/ye warr,

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 Knight that hight Terrey, sirTerrey

hee was a great Lord of Surrey,^ ^P^ge 22-2] of Sy^-i^

he thought Noble Triamoee 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,^
soe sore his stroke he sett.

and gets
thrown.

848 then durst noe man att triamore [ride,"*]
for fortune held all on his side
all those dayes 3.^

No one else
will try
Triamore ;

' Syselle, sir Sywere. — Ca. Cj'cyll,
sir Fylar. — Cop.

2 The clewke of Lythyr, sir Tyrre.
— Ca.

^ . . . tho clewke, bothe hors and man,
Tiirnyd toppe ovyr tayle. — Ca.

* to Tryamoure ryde. — Cop.

* The Cambridge text makes Triamore

SIB TRIAMORE.

but Sir
James

lies in wait
for liim,

Sir lames, sonne vnto tlie Emperour,
852 had enuye to S^'r Triamore,

and laid wait ^ for him priuilye.

and runs
him through
the thigh,

att the last Triamore came ryding bje.
Sir lames said, " Triamore ! thou shalt dye,
856 for thou hast done me shame."
he rode to Triamore with a spere,
& thorrow ^ 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 ^ the head
that he fell downe starke dead.

then was all his men woe ;
then wold they haue slaine Tryamore
864 Without he had had great succour ^ ;
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 K.mg Arradas ^ 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 ^ this, all the Lords that were^ lustinge,
876 to the pallace ^ made highinge,^
& to that Ladye went.

serve " the dewke of Aymere" as lie served
Terrey, and shiver the shield and spear of
James of Almayne, p. 28-9 Percy Soe.
ed.— F.

' layde wayte.^ — Cop.

- throiighe. — Cop.

^ hytt hym on. — Cop.

■* the greter socoure. — Cop.

* Arragns. — Cop.

" on or after. — F.

' was at. — Cop.

® pallayes. — Cop.

" hyenge. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMOEE.

Ill

truly, as the story sayes,
tlie ^ pricked fortli to the pallace
880 the Laclyes will to heare,
Bachelours & knights prest,
tJiat shee might choose of them the best
■which 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 ^
888 that euejye day wan the degree ?
I chuse him to my peere.^ "

She chooses
Triamore.
"Where is he?

al about ^ the Tryamore sought ;
he was ryddn home ; the found him nought ;
892 then was that Ladye woe.

the K-uights 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 ^ 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 wdll haue none but Tryamore."
then all the Lorc^s that were present
tooke their Leaue, & home went ;
there wan the litle honor.

she will have
none but
Triamore.

' they. — Cop.
^ Tho.— Cop.
3 he.— Cop.

* fere. — Cop.

* All aboute. — Cop.

* had inserted. — Cop.

112

SIR TRIAMOItE.

Sir James's
men carry
his corpse

to liis father,
the Emperor,

908 Si'r lames men were nothing faine
because their M.aster, 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 thai dishonor ^ ? '
the sayd " wee [ne] wott who it is I-wisse,^
but Sir Tryamore he named is,
soe the called him ^ in the crye ;

and Arradas

killed his
son.

The Emperor

vows

revenge,

summons a
host,

and invades
Arragon.

920 " the K:ing of Arragon alsoe,
he helped thy * sonne to sloe,

w*th all his company e."
they said, " the be good warryoirs ;
924 they byte ^ vs with sharpe showers ^
With great villanye.'^ "

"Alas ! " said the Emperour,
" till I be reuenged on thai tray tour,
928 now shall I neuer cease !

the shall haue many a sharpe shower,
both the TLing & 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.*
936 with a great armye, the Duke sayes,
the yeed to Arragon without lesse.

' dysshonour. — Cop.

* has ywys. — Cop.

' called the him. — Cop.

* MS. the.— F.

bete. — Cop.
shoutes. — Cop.
vilany. — Cop.
pryse. — Cop.

SIR TllIAMORE.

113

Kmg Arradas ' was a- dread ^
for the Emperour such power had,
940 that battell hee wold him bid ^ ;
he saw his land nye ouer-gon,
& to a castle hee fledd anon,
& victualls * it for dread.

takes refiigo
in his castle,

944 * the Emperour was bold & stout,
& beseeged the castle about ;

his ** banner he began to spread,
& arrayd his host full well & wiselye,
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 " to the hold.
K-ing Arradas was stout & bold,
ordayned him fall well.*

and assaults

It.

Arradas

956

960

With gunes & great stones round
were throwne downe to the ground,

& on the men were cast ;
they brake many backes & bones,
that they fought eue*ye[day ^] ones

while 7 weekes did last.

fires and
hurls stones

on the
besiegers.

After seven
%vceks.

964

the Emperour was hurt ill therfore,
his men were hurt sore,
all his Joy was past.

' Aragus. — Cop.
- ii-dradde. — Cop.
' byddc. — Cop.

* vytaylled. — Cop. Yetaylyd. — Ca.

* This stanza, which seoms super-
fluous, is not in the Cambridge text.
— F.

VOL. II.

* A letter like t, seemingly blotched
out, precedes his in the MS. — F.
' assalte. — Cop.

8 And defendyd Iiym full faste. — Ca.
And ordered it full welle. Rawlinson
MS. (Percy Soc, p. 62).— F.

9 day.— Cop.

114

SIR TRIAMOIIE.

K-ing Arradas tlionght fall longe
tJiat liee was beseeged soe stronge,
w^'th soe mtich miofht & niaine :

sends to
the Emperor

968

972

2 Lords forth a Message he sent,

& straight to the Emperour the ' went.

soe when they cold him see,
of peace ^ they can him pray,^
to take truce ^ 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
thai he neuer jotir sonne did slay,^
976 soe he wold quitt him faine ;
he was not then present,
nor did noe wise ^ consent
that jovr sonne was slaine.
980 That [he] will prone, if you will soe,
jottr selfe and he betweene you tow,
if you will it sayne ;

" or else take your selfe a K.night,
984 & he will gett another to fight
on a certaine day :
if that jour K.night hap soe
ours for to discomfort or sloe,
988 as by fortune itt may,

our King then will doe your will,
be att yo?^r bidding lowde & still
w?!thout more delay ;

992 " & alsoe if it you betyde

thai yoitr 'knight on your sjde
be slaine by Mischance,

' yy. — Cop. - peas. — Cop.

^ Only the long part of the y is in the
MS.— F.

* treues. — Cop.
^ sle. — Cop.

* noe wise clid.-

[page 224

-Cop.

am TKIAMOKE.

115

996

My Lord shall make yo»r warr to cease,'
[and we shall after be at pease, ^]
without any distance. ^ "

the Emperor
shall stop
his siege.

1000

the Emperour said * without fayle
" sett a day of Battell

by assent of the 'King of franco ; "
for he had a great Campiowne,^
in euoye realme he wan ^ renowne ;

soe the Emperour ceased his distance.

The
Emperor

as he has a

famous

champion.

1004

1008

when peace was made, & truce came,'^
then King Arradas were ^ a loyfull man,

& trusted vnto Tryamore.
Soe after him he went without fayle,
for to doe the great battelle

to his helpe & succour.

Arradas

sends for
Triamore
to flght for
him,

1012

his Messengers were come & gone,
ty dings of him hard ^ the none.

the Ki7ig Arradas thought him long,
" & he be dead, I may say alas !
who shall then fight with Marradais

that is soe stout & stronsfe ? "

but can hear
no tidings of
him.

when Tryamore was whole •^ & sound,
1016 & well healed of his wound,
he busked him for to fare ;

Triamore
gets well,

' sease. — Cop.

^ This line is from Copland's text. — H.

He preyeth yow that ye wyll cese.

And lot owre londys be in pees. — Ca.

' " Dystaunce, stipra in Debate vd

Dyscordo (discidia)." Promptorium.

Fr. distance, difference. Cotgrave. — F.

* We keep the said of the MS., though

it is not wanted, and the Cambridge text
has not got it. — F.

* Champion. MS. campanye. — F.
Company. — Cop.

the. — Cop.
treues tane.—
was. — Cop.
herde. — Cop.

Cop.

hole. — Cop.

I 2

116

SIR TRIAMOKE.

and asks his
mother who
his father is.

His mother
will not tell
him till he
marries,

so he starts
for Arragon.

On his way

he sets his
greyhoundtj
at a hart,

and is

attacked by

fourteen

foresters.

Triamore
tries to
pacify them,

he sayd, "mother," with mild cheere,
" & I wist what my father were,
1020 the lesse were my care."

" Sonne," shee said, " thou shalt witt ;
when 1 thou hast Marryed that Ladye sweet,

thy father thou shalt ken."
1024 " mother," he said, " if you will [soe,2]
haue good day, for now I goe

to doe my Masteryes if I can.^ "

then rode he ouer dale & downe
1028 vntill he came to Arragon,
ouer many a weary way.

aduentures many him befell,

& all he scaped full well,
1032 in all his great lourney.

he saw many a wild beast
both in heath & in forrest ;

he had good grey-hounds 3 ;
1036 then to a hart he let them run
till 14 fosters spyed him soone,

soe threatened him greatlye ;

they yeede to him w^th weapons on euoye side ;
1040 it was noe boote to bid them byde ;
Tryamore was loth to flye,

& said vnto them, " Lort^s, I you pray,

lett me in peace wend my way
1044 to seeke my grayhounds 3."

oflfers them
all his
money.

then said Tryamore as in this time,
" gold & siluer, take all mine

if* that I haue tresspassed ought,"

' Whan. — Cop.
* soo. — Ca.

and speke wyth my lemman. — Ca.
Of.— Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

117

1048

1052

1056

1060

1064

1068

1072

1076

The said, "wee will meete with, thy anon, [page 225]
there shall noe gold borrow thee soone,^

but in prison thou shalt be brought,
Such is the law of the ground ; ^
Whosoeuer therin may be found,

other way goe the nought."

then S/r Tryamore was fall woe
that to prison he shold goe ;

hee thought the flesh to deare bought,
there was no more to say,
the fosters att him gan lay

With strokes steme and stout.

there Tryamore with them fought ;
some to the ground be brought ;

he made them lowe to looke ;
some of them fast gan pray,
the other fled fast away

With wounds wyde that they sought.^

Tryamore sought & found * his gray -hounds ;
he hear[k]ned to their yerning * sounds,

& 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 gray hounds ;

the 31 full sore troubled the hind,
& he hurt him wt'th his trinde ^ ;

then was Tryamore woe.
if the battaile had lasted a while,
the hart wold the hound beguile,^

& take his life for eue?-more.

They refuj-e
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.

' ? MS. : it may be meant for frome ;
but one stroke of the ?« is missing. — F.

^ Ca. has "ye must lese yowre ryght
honde." — F.

3 ? tooke.— F.

* rod and sought. — Cop.

* ? running. — F.

' One stroke of the 71 is wanting in the
MS. Ca. has Tyndys, branches of the
antlers. — F.

' begyle. — Cop.

118

SIR TRIAMORE.

Triamore

kills the
deer,

blows his
horn,

and king
Arradas
hears it.

Tryamore smote att the deere,
and ' to the hart went the spere ;
1080 then his home he blew full sore,
the King Lay there beside
at MannoMr ^ that same tide ;
he hard a home blowe :

A forester
runs in,

1084

1088

tells the king

that his

keepers have

been slain

by the 1092

knight

they had great wonder in hall,
both KQiights, Squiers,^ & all,

for noe man cold it know.
w^'th that ran in a foster
into the hall with etiill cheere,

& was fall sorry, I trow.

the K-ing of tydings gan him fraine ;

he answered, " Sir K.ing^ jour Keepers be slaine,

and lye dead on a rowe.
there came a hnight that was mightye,
he let 3 grayhounds that were wightye,

& laid my fellowes fall lowe : "

that blew
the horn.

Arradas says
he wants
such a man.

1096

1100

he sayd, it was full true

that the same that the home blew

that all this sorrow hath wrought.
King Arradas said then,
" 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 ^ feitch yond gentleman to me
1104 that is now at his play ;

looke noe ill words wrth him yee breake,
but pray him w^th me for to speake ;
I trow he will not say nay."

' One stroke of the n missing in the
MS.— F.

^ maner. — Cop.

' Squiers, knights. — Cop.
* MS. god.-F.

SIR TRIAMOHE.

119

1108

1112

1116

1120

1124

Euejye knight his steed hent,

& lightlye to the wood ' the went

to seeke Tryamore thai child,
the found him by a water side
where he brake the beast ^ thai tyde,

thai hart thai w^as soe "wylde.

the said, " Sir ! god be at jouv game! "
he answered them euen the same ;

then was he frayd of guile.
" Sir 'K.night ! " they said, " is itt jouv will
to come & speake our 'K.ing vntill

w^ith word[e]s meeke & mylde ? " [page 226]

Tryamore asked shortlye,^

" what hight jouv 'K.ing, tell yee mee,

thai is lord ^ of this land ? "
" this Land hight Arragon,
& our King, Arradas, with crowne ;

his place his heire att hand."

The knights

and
Triamore,

Balute him,

and ask if he
will come to
their king,

Arradas of
Arragon.

Tryamore went vnto the K.['ing,']
& 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 ^ him what he hight.

11.32 " 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 fall of might."

Triamore
comes,

Arradas

■welcomes

him,

and

Triamore
tells him
who he is.

' wodde. — Cop.

- The top of some letter over the a is
marked out in the MS. brake meaus
' ' cut up." — F.

' shortely. — Cop.

* There is a round blot like an after
the r in the MS. — F.
^ axet. — Cop.

120

SIR TRIAMORE.

Arradas
is very glad,

and tellg
Triamore

of the day
set for the
fight with the
Emperor's
champion.

Triamore
agrees to
liglit for
Arradas,

when the K.ing 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 ^ for thee ; "
and he told him al ;

1144

1148

" with the Emperour I * tooke a day
[to] defend me if that I may ;

to lesu I will call ;
for I neuer his sonne slew ;
god he knoweth I speake but true,

& helpe me I trust he shall ! "

then said Tryamore thoe, ["I am fulle woe^]
that you for me haue beene greened soe,
1152 if I might it amend;

& att the day of battell
I trust to proue * my might as * well,
if god will grace me send."

of which the
latter is
glad.

1156

1160

then was K-ing Arradas very glad,
and of Marradas was not adread :

when he to the batteile shold wend,
he ioyed ^ that he shold well speed,
for Tryamore was warry '^ at neede

against his enemye to defend.

On the day
fixed, the
Emperor

there Tryamore dwelled with the Kdng
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 ;

' Cop. omits had.—Jl. ^ This word is blotted in the MS.— F.

2 MS. he.— F. =■ From Ca.— F. « joyed.— Cop.

* prome, in the MS. — F. ' ware. — Cop.

SIB TRIAMORE.

121

1168 he brought thither both K-ing & 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.

brings his
champion,
Marradas ;

both partyes that ilke day
into the feeld tooke the way,
1176 they were already ^ dight.

the K-ing there kissed Tryamore,
& sayd, " I make thee mine [heyre 2] this hower,
& dubb thee a k}%/it."

1 180 " Sir," said Tryamore, " take no dread ;
I trust lesus will me speede,

for you be in the right ;
therfore through gods grace
1184 I will fight for you in this place

With the helpe of our Lords might ! "

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 lesus can hee ^ call.

Sir Tryamore & Sir Marradas
both well armed was
amonge the Lords all ;

Both parties
swear to
abide by the
result.

1192

1196

eche of them were sett on steede ;
all men of Tryamore had dreede,

that was soe hind in all.*
Marradas was stiffe & sure,^
their ^ might noe man his stroake endure,

But that he made them fall.

and

Marradas

[page 227]

al redy. — Cop.
heyrp. — Cop.
they. — Cop.

Ther was none so liynde in hallo. — Ca.
so styff in stoure. — Ca.
then. — Ca.

122

SIR TRIAMORE.

charge,

Tireak their
Bpears and
shields,

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 ' full right ;
wi'th sharpe speres & swords bright
1200 they smote together sore ;

the spent speres & brake sheelds,
the busied ^ 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 liife.*
Marradas fared fyer^ wood
1208 because Tryamore soe long stood ;
sore gan hee smite.
Sir 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 light !

then I wold not be sorye ^ ;

" 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 frora my foe.^]

& Tryamore hghted from his horsse,
& to Marradas straight he goes,
for both on foote they did light.

* the longer. — Cop.
^ powsed. — Cop.
^ they. — Cop.

" ? a life to be lost— F. lyte (little).
—Cop.

^ fare. — Cop.

^ sore. — Cop.

' ? ; a line is wanting in the MS. Cop.
has " And wonne hym here in fyght."
— F.

SIR TKIAMORE.

123

1228 Sir Tryamore spared him nought,
[But evyr in his hert he thoght •]
" this day was I made a 'K.niglit !

1232

1236

& thought that hee himselfe wold be slaine soone,
" or else of him I will win my shoone ^

throughe gods might."
the laid eche at other w^'th good will
With sharpe swords made of Steele ;

thai saw ^ many a knight.

great wonder it was to behold

the stroakes thai 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.

1244

1248

& thai Tryamore lightlye beheld,
& fought feerclye in the feeld ;

he stroke Marradas soe sore
thai the sword through the body ran.
then was the Emperour a sorry man ;

he made thenn peace for euer-more ;

Triamore
kills him.

The
Emperor

1252

1256

he kissed the Km^, & was his freind,
& tooke his leauee homewards to wend ;

noe longer there dwell wold hee.
then Kwijy Arradas & Tryamore
went to the palace with great honor,

into thai rych citye.
there was ioy without care,
& all they had great welfare,

there might no better bee ;

Arradas,

and goes
home.

Arradas and

Triamore

return

to the city.

' 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

and a fearless
steed,

they hunted & rode many a where,
full great pleasure they had there.
1260 among the knights of price

the K.mg p?'ofered him full fayre,
& sayd, " Tryamore, lie 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 Kdng was verry sorry tho ;
when that hee wold from him goe,
1272 he gaue him a sure weede,^

& 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 Kdng sayd, " Tryamor ! thai ^ is mine,
1280 when thou Hst it shall be thine,

all my kingdome lesse & more."

Now is Tryamore forth goe ;

Lords & ladyes were full woe,^
1284 euerye man loued him there.

Tryamore rode in hast trulye
into the Land of Hungarye,
aduentures for to seeke.*

' steede is marked out in the MS,-
^ whatever, all that. — F.
^ for him were woe. — Cop.

-F. ■• The CamlDridge text sends him

generally everywhere before going to
Hungary. — F.

SIR TKIAMORE.

125

1288 betweene 2 mountaines, the sooth to say,
he rode forth on his way ;
with a pahner he did nieete ;

On his road
a palmer

1292

1296

he asked almes for gods sake,
& Tryamore him not forgate,

he gaue him wi'th words sweete.
the palmer said, " turne yee againe,
or else I feare you wilbe slaine ;

you may not passe but you be beat."

warns him
to turn back

Tryamore asked " why soe ? "
"Sir," he said, "there be brethren to we
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 hnights he saw on a hill :

and soon
meets

two knights,

1312

1316

the one of them to him gan ryde,
they other still gan abyde

a litle there beside.
& when the did Tryamore spye,
the said, " turne thee tray tor,' or thou shalt dye,

therfore stand & abyde ! "

who order
him to go
back.

' trajtor turne. — Cop.

126

SIR TKIAMOKE.

One charges
him,

the other

either againe other ' gan ryd fast,
theire strokes mad their speres to brast,
1320 & made them wounds full wyde.

the other knight that honed^ soe,
wondred that Tryamore dared soe :
he rode to them that tyde

separates
them,

Triamore
his name,

1324

1328

1332

& departed them in twaine,

& to speake fayre he began to fraine

'with words that sounded well :
to Tryamore he ^ sayd anon,
"a doughtyer K.night I neuer saw none I"*

thy name that thou vs tell."
Tryamore said, " first will I wett
why that you doe keepe this street,

& where that you doe dwell."

and says
that tiieir
brother
Marradas

was slain by

one

Triamore,

1336

the said, " wee had a brother higlit Marradas,
-with the Emperour forsooth he was,

a stronge man well I-know.^
in Arragon, before the Emperour,
a knight called Sir Tryamore

in battel there him slew ^ ;

and their
elder brother
Burlong 1,340

1.344

" & alsoe wee say another,
Burlong "^ our elder brother,

as a man of much might ;
he hath beseeged soothlye
the K.ings daughter of Hungary E ;

to wed her he hath height ;

' other than. — Cop. ri/d has a tag at
thn end. — F.

- hored, ^.p. hoVeved on the hill, qu. —
J?. Jiovcd ia common in the Bense of
halted.— F.

" they. — Cop.

^ so doughty a knight knowe 1 none.
—Cop.

^ y-nongh (enough). — Ca.

^ There is something like another r
before the w in the MS. — F.

' Burlonde. — Ca.

SIR TRIAMORE.

127

1348

" & soe well bee liatli sped
that hee shall that Lady wedd

but sbee may find a Knight
that BuRLONGE ouercome may ;
to that tbey bane tooke a day,

wage battel & figbt ;

is to wed
Queen Helen
of Hungary
unless she
can find a
knight to
beat him.

" for that same Tryamore
1352 loued that Ladye paramoure,
as it is before told ;
if be will to Hungarye,
needs must be come vs by ;
1356 to meete w/tb bim wee wold."

and she is

Triamore'a

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 faitb I will not Laine :
tbinke jour Journey well besett,
for wttb Tryamore you baue mett

that jour brotber batb slaine."

' here he is."

" welcome ! " tbe said, " Tryamore !

1364 bis deatb sbalt tbou repent sore ;
thy sorrow shall begin,
yeeld thee to vs anon,
for tbou sbalt not from vs gone

1368 by noe manner of gin.* "

They call on
him to yield.

13:

the smote feircly att bim tbo,
& Tryamore against them 2

W('thout more delay.
S/r Tryamore proued bim full prest,
be brake their spere on their brest,

bee bad such assay ;

He fighta
them,

^ gynne. — Cop. wile. — F.

128

SIR TKIAMORE.

they split
his shield
and kill his
horse,

but he slays
one of them.

1376

1380

his sheeld. was broken in peeces 3,
his horsse was smitten on his knee,

soe hard att him the thrust.'
Sir Tryamore was then right wood,
& slew the one there as he stood

w^'th his sword full prest.

The other

rides at him,

but Tria-
more kills
him too.

that other rode his way,
his hart was in great affray,

yet he turned againe that tide, —
1384 when Tryamore had slaine his brother,
a sorry man then was the other, —

& straight againe to him did rydde ;

then they 2 sore foughte
1 388 that the other to the ground was brought
then were the both slaine.

Helen
wonders
where
Triamore is.

The day to
win her is

Burlong
calls for her
knight.

She has
none.

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.

1396 Burlonge was redye dight,

he bade the Lady send the 'Knight,

shee answered *•' I ne 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 ^ will hee come blithe ;
1404 god send vs good grace to speed ! "

" thrast, — Cop.

2 MS. either.— F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

1-29

■with that came iu S/r Tryamore
in the thickest of that stower,
into tlie feild wi'thout dread.

1408 he asked 'what all that did meano.'

the people shewed that a battel there shold beenc

for the loue of that Ladye.
he saw Bdrlong on his steede,
1412 & sti^aight to him he yeede ;
that Ladye challengeth hee.

But just

then

Triamore

rides into
tlie field,

goes straight
to Burloig,

Burlong asked him if he wold fight.
Tryamore said, " with all [my] might
1416 to slay thee, or thou me."
anon the made them readye,
& none there knew him sikerlye,
the wondred what he shold bee.

andfayslio'U
figlit liim.

1420 high on a tower stood that good Ladye ;
shee knew not what K.night verelye

that with Burlong did fight,
fast shee asked of her men
1424 'if that 'Knight they cold ken
that to battell was dight;

Helen
does not
know him ;

' a griffon he beareth all of blew.' '
a herald of armes soone him ^ knew,
1428 & said anon-right,

" Madame ! god hath sent you succor ;
for yonder is Tryamore

That wi'th Burlong will fight."

1432 to lesus gan the Ladye pray

for to speed him on his lourney
that hee about yeed.

1 1 ngo 230]

but a herald
recognises
his crest,

nnd tells her
it is
Triamore.

She prays for
his success.

• A krcste he beryth in blowe. — Ca.
VOL. tl. K

- Syr Ttnrnardo. — C.a.

130

SIR TRIAMOEE.

Triamoro
aiid Burlong
fight

then those 'Knir/Jiis ran together,
1436 the speres in peaces gan shiner,
the fought full sore indeed ;

for a long
while.

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 strongo,
there found he his peere.

till Triamore
loses his
sword.

1444

1448

Tryamore a stroke to him mint,'
his sword fell downe at that dint

out of his hand him froe.
then was Burlong verry ^ glad,
& the Ladye was verry sad,

& many more fall woe.

He asks for

it,

and Burlong

agrees to

give it him

if he'll tell

his name.

Tryamore asked his sword againe,
but Burlong gan him fraine
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."

Triamore
tells him.

1456

1460

Tryamore sayd, " soe mote I thee.
My name I will tell trulye,

therof I will not doubt ;
men call me Sir Tryamore,
I wan this Ladye in a stowre

among Barrons stout."

Burlong
reproaches
him with
killing

Marradas

then said Burlong, "thou it was
thai slew my brother Marradas !
1404 a faire ^ hap thee befell ! "

' mynt. — Cop. raindecl, meant, intended. — F.
^ wondei'.— Cop. ^ ? fowle. — F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

131

Sir Tiyamore sayd to liim tho,
" soe liaue I done thy Brethren 2
tliat on the Mountaines did dwell."

1468

1472

Burlong said, " woe may thou bee,
for thou hast slaine my brethren 3 !

sorrow hast thou sought !
thy sword getts thou neuer againe
till I be avenged, & thou slaine ;

now I am well bethought ! "

and Ti is other
brothers.

and refuses
to let him
have his
sword.

Slv Tryamorc sayd, "noe force ' tho,
thou shalt repent it ere thou goe ;
1476 doc forth ! I dread thee nought ! "

Burlong to smite was readye bowne,
his facte shpt,^ & hee fell downe,
& Tryamore right well nought,^

1480

11 84

his sword lightlye he vp hent,
& to Burlonge fast he went ;

for nothing wold he flee ;
& as he wold haue risen againe,
he smote his leggs euen in twaino

hard fast by the knee.

Burlong
makes ready
to strike ; his
foot slips,
and he falls.

Triamore

gets his
swoi'd 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.

1492 Burlong on his stumpes stood
as a man that was nye wood,
& fought wonderous hard.''

to make him
his equal in
height.

and lets him
get a sword.

Burlong
fights well
on Ills
stumps,

' matter. — F.
2 his fote schett.-

-Ca.

' wylyly wrought. — Ca.
'' woudcr fastc. — Cop.

■\\Toiight. — Cop.

132

SIR TRIAMORE.

& Sir Tiyamore strake stroakes sure?,
1496 for he cold well endure ;

of him hee was not affrayd,

but
Triamore

cuts his heatl
off,

1500

& vnder his ventale
his head he smote of without fayle ;
w^'th that in peeces his sword brast.

and goes to
his love.

1504

Now is Burlong slaine,
& Triamore w^'th maine

into the Castle went,
to the Ladye that was full bright ;
& att the gates shee mett the 'K.night,

& in her armes shee him hent.

welcomes
him.

Tlie barons
agree to hold
their lands
of him,

1508

1512

Shee said, "welcome sir Tryamore !
for you haue bought my loue fall deerc,

my hart is on you lent! "
then said all the Barrens bold,
" of him wee will our lands hold ; "

& therto they did assent.

[p.age 231 J

and the
wedding-day
i5 fixed.

Triamore

sends for liis
mother.

1516

there is noe more to say,

but, they haue taken a certaine day

that they both shalbe wed.
Si'r Tryamore for his mother sent,
a Messenger for her went,

& into the castle he[r] led.

and she
tells him
that King
Arradas is
Vvis father,

1520

if) 24

Tryamore to his mother gan saine,
" my father I wold know faine,

sith I haue soe well sped."
shee said, " K.mg Array das of Arragon,
is thy father, & thou his owne Sonne ;

I was his wedded Queene ;

SIR TRIAMORE.

133

1528

" a leasing was borne me in hand,'
& falsely fleamed me out of liis land

by a traitor Keene,
Sir Marrockee the bight ^ : be did me woe,
& S^'r Rodger my knigbt be did sloe,

that my guide ^ sbold baue beene."

that she was

banished

wrongfully,

through Sir
Marrock.

1532

1536

& when that Tryamore all beard,''
& bow bis motber sbee bad ^ sayd,

letters be made & wrougbt;
be prayd 'King Arradas to come bini till,
if that it were bis will,

tbus be bim besougbt :

Triarr^orc

writes and

begs

Arradas

1540

' if bee will come into Hungarte
for bis Manbo od & bis Masterye,

& that be wold fayle in nougbt.'
then was K.ing Arradas verry glad ;
the Messengers great guifts bad

for they tydings that tbey brought.

to come to
Hungary,

1544

1548

the day was come t/mt was sett,
the Jjords came tbitber without let,

& ladyes of great pryde ;
then wold they noe longer lett ;
shortlye after ^ tbey are fett,

vrith 2 dukes on euejye side ;

On tlio
wedding-
day,

1552

tbey lady to the church the led ;
a Bishopp them together did wed,

in full great bast the hyed.
soone after that wcddingo
Sir Tryamore was crowned 'King,

they wold noc longer abyde.

Queen Helen
is married to
Triamore,

who is then

crowned

king.

furced on me. — F.
? tho wight. — F.

8 gyder. — Cop.
* herde. — Cop.

* to him. — Cop.

" after forthe, — Cop.

134

SIR TRIAMOr.E.

Arradas sees
Margaret,

1556

15G0

and asks her
what her
name is.

She says she 15G4
was liis
queen, and
Marrock
defamed her.

After dinner

15G8

she tolls him

all her

history. 1572

tte Queene, his mother Margarett,
before the 'King shee was sett

in a goodlye cheai'e.'
'King Arradas beheld his Queene,
him thought that hee had her seeiie,

shee was a ladye fayre ;
the King said, " it is jour will
jour name me for to tell,

I pray you with words fayre."

" my Lord," sayd [she,] " I was jour Queene
jour steward did me ill ^ teene ;

that euill might him befalle ! "
the Ki7ig spake noe more words
till the clothes were drawen from the bords,

& men rose in the hall.
& by the hand he tooke the Qncene gent ;
soe in the chamber forth he went,

& 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 loy & blisse !
when they together gan kisse,

then all they companye made loy enough.
1576 the younge Queene [was] full glad

that shee a Kings Sonne to her Lord had,
shee was glad, I trowe ;

in loy together lead their lifie

1580 all their dayes Av/thout striffe,
& lined many a fayre yeere.
Then king Arradas & his Queene
had ioy enough them betweene,

1584 & merrilye ^ lined together.

[page 231']

' For the preceding half-stanza the
Cambridge text has a whole one :

Ye may welle wete certeynly
That tliere was a great mangery,
There as so many wrre niett :

Qwene Margaret began the deyse ;
Kyng Ardus wyth-owtyn lees,
Be hur was he sett. — P.

* mekyll. — Cop.

* merely. — Cop.

SIK TRIAMOKE.

135

1588

1592

& thus wee leaue of Tryamorc
thai liued long in great honor

with the fayre Hellene.'
I pray god giiie their sonles good rest,
& all that haue heard this litle lest,^

highe heauen for to win !
god gTant vs all to haue thai grace,
him for to see in the celestyall place 1

I pray you all to say Amen !

Good bye,
Triamore !

God send all
my hearers
to heaven 1
Amen!

' Elyne. — Cop.

- Gest. P.O.— P. gest.— Cop.

' Copland's colophon is, " C

Im-

printed at London in Temes strete vpow
the thre Crane wharfe. By Wyllyam
Copland."— F.

136

Guy jour-
neys in the
Holy Land,

[8ec the Gencml Introduction to the Giiy Poems, under Guy ^" Colchrandc below. J

vTUYE : iourneyed ore the sanctifyed ground
wheras the lewes fayre citye soraeti[mc] 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 Joseph vnto lesiis lent.

With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,
& passed desarts places ^ full of danger;

att last wtth a most woefull wight did meet,
a man •"' thai vnto sorrow was noe stranger,

for he had 15 sonnes made captiues all

to slauish ■* bondage, in extremest thrall.

and meets
a woeful
man,

whoso fifteen
sons are held
In bondage

the giant
Auiarant.

Guy under-
takes to free
them,

A gyant called Amarant detained them,

whom noe man durst encounter for his strenght,

who, in a castle w7wch he held, had chaind them.
Guy questions w[h]ere,^ & vnderstands at leiight

the place not farr. " lend me thy sword," qwoth Guy ;

" He lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free."

Wt'th that he goes & layes vpon the dore
like one, he sayes, thai miist & will coi
the Gyant, he was neere soe rowzed before,

and knocks
loudly at the

giant's door. 20 like One, he sayes, thai miist & will come in.

' By the elegance of Language &
easy Flow of the versification, this Poem
&\ioidA 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 c^uiz of

the style it aifects. 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 Esfinerc']. — P.

■* There are two strokes in MS. after
the 2c, one is dotted. — F.

^ where. — P.

GUYE AND AMAKANT.

137

for noc such knocking at liis gate had beenc ;
soc takes his keyes & ck^b, & goeth out,
24 Staring wt'th irefull countenance about :

comes fortti

" Sirra ! " sais hee, " what busines hast thou heere ?

art come to feast my crowes about the walls ' ?
cliclst 2 neuer heare noe rausome cold him cleere

thai in the compas of my furye falls ^ ?
for making me to take a porters paines,
vvi'th this same club I will dash out thy braines."

and says
he'll dasli
Guy's brains
out.

" Gyant," sales Guy, "yowr quarrelsome, I see ;

choller & you are something necre of Kin ;
dangerous at a club be-like you bee ;

I haue beene better armed, though now goc th[in.]
but shew thy vtmost hate, enlarge thy spite !
heere is the wepon that must doe me right."

G-uy answers

that his
sword will
right him.

Soe takes his sword, salutes [him ''] with the same
about the head, the shoulders, & the sides,

whilest his erected club doth death proclainie,
standing wtth huge Collossous spacious strydes,

putting such vigor to his knotted beame

that like a furnace he did smoke extreme.

and attacks
the giant,

who strikes

fierce

strokes,

But on the ground he spent his stroakes in vaine,
44 for Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,

& ere he cold recouers ^ 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.

> wall.— P.

"^ ? MS. didcst or the e has been altered
into part of the s.^-F.
^ fall.— P.

* him -w/ih. — P.

^ There's an apostrophe in recent ink
over the s in the MS. — P.

138

GUYE AND AMARANT.

Amarant
grows faint,

and asks
Guy to let
him drink at
a spring.

Guy gives
him leave.

Amarant
drinks so
greedily

that Gruy
•wonders.

He calls on
Amarant to
fight again.

The giant

Att last tlirougli strengtli, Amarant ^ feeble grew,

& said to Guy, " as thou art of humane race,
shew itt in this, giuee nature ^ wants her dew ;
52 let me but goe & drinke in younder place ;
thou canst not yeeld to ^ [me] a smaller thing
then to grant life thats giuen by the spring."

" I giue the leaue," sayes Guy, " goe drinke thy ^ last,
56 to pledge the dragon & the savage beare,^

suceed the tragedyes that they haue past ;

but nener thinke to drinke ^ cold water more ^ ;

drinke deepe to death, & after thai carrouse
60 bid him receiue thee in his earthen house."

Soe to the spring he goes, & slakes his thirst,

takeing in ^ 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," quoth Guy, " lets to our worke againe ;
68 thou stayest about thy liquor ouer longe ;
the fish w/iich in the riuer doe remaine

will want thereby ; thy ^ drinking doth thcni
wrong ;
but I will [have] their •" satisfaction made;
72 w*th gyants blood the must & shall be payd ! "

" Villaine," qwoth Amarant, " He crush thee straight !

thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence !
this club, w/ii'ch is about some hundred waight,

' the strength of A : or thro' lacke
of strew^th he. — P. This eircitmstance
seems borrowed from song 104. p. 349,
[of MS. Guy cf- Colcbrande'\.—P.

2 An 's has been added by P. in the
MS.— F.

3 unto.— P.

* One stroke too many for thy in tiie
MS.— P.

^ boar. Qu. — P.

6 Only half the n in the MS.— F,
' here, Qu., or mair. — P.
^ delend. — P.

" MS. tlieir.— F. thy.— P.
'" have their. — P,

GUYE AMD AMARANT.

139

?G has dcatlies comi/assion to dispacth ' thee hence !
dresse thee foi' Ratiens djett, I must needs,
& breake thy bones as they were made of reeds ! "

says he'll
break Guy's
bones.

9->

100

Incensed much att ^ this bokl Pagans hosts,

which worthy Gruy cokl ill endure to heare,
he hewes v]Don those bigg supporting postes

which like 2 pillars did his body beare.
Amarant for those wounds in choUer growes,
& desperatelye att guy his club he throwes,

Which did directlye on his body Hght

soe heauy & soe weaghtye ^ there wi'thall,

that downe to ground on sudden came the 'Ejnirjht ;
& ere he cold recouer from his fall,

the gyant gott his club againe in his fist,

& stroke a blow thai wonderfullye mist.

" Traytor ! " qzfotli Guy, " thy falshood He repay,
this coward art to intercept my bloode."

sayes Amarant, " lie murther any way ;
With enemyes, all vantages are good ;

o ! cold I poyson in thy nostrills blowe,

be sure of it, I wold destroy the soe ! "

" Its well," said Guy, " thy honest thoughts appear
Within tliai beastlye bulke where devills dwell,

which are thy tennants while thou liuest heere,
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
fighting
unfairly,

" Bvit breath thy selfe a time while I goc drinke,
104 for flameing Pheabus with liis fyerye eye
torments me soe with burning heat, I thinkc

and asks
leave to
drink.

' Here agata is the cthiov ^c/«, noticed
ill vol. i. p. 23, note '. — F.

2 MS. all.~F. att tliis.—r,
* weightye. — P.

140

GUYE AND AMARANT.

my ttirst wold serue to drinke an Ocean drye.
forbear a litle, as I delt with, thee."
108 Quoth Amarant, " thou hast noe foole of mee !

Amarant
refuses : he
is not such a
fool

112

" Noe ! sillye wretch ! my father taught more •

how I shold vse such enemyes as thou,
by all my gods ! I doe reioyce at itt,

to vnderstand that thirst constraines thee now ;
for all the treasure that the world containes,
one drop of water shall not coole thy vajTies.

as to refresh
his foe.

116

120

Amarant
swings his
club round,

and promises
to kill Guy

and drink
his blood.

Guy abuses
the giant,

124

128

132

" Releeue my foe ! why, twere a madmans part !

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 ;
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,
& like the Cyclops in his pride doth strout ' ;
" Sirra," said hee, " I haue you at a lifte ;
now you are come vnto jour latest shift ;

" Perish for euer with this stroke I send thee,
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,
to please my fury with thine ouerthrow ! "

" Infe[r]nall, false, obdurat feend ! " Guy said,^
" that seemes a lumpe of crueltye from hell !
ingratefull monster ! since thou hast denyd ^

' Strowt yn, or bocyn owte (bowtyn,
S.) Turgeo, Catholicon, Prompt. — F.

^ cryd ; [or] perhaps, ' said Guy.'— P
^ dost deny. — P.

GUYE AND AMARANT.

141

13G the thing to mee whcrin I vsed thee [well,']
w/th more reuenge then ere my sword did make,

On thy accursed head revenge lie take

[page 234]

140

144

" Thy gyants longitude shall shorter shrinke,

except thy sunscorcht sckin doe weapon proae.^
farwell my thirst ! I doe disdaine to drinke.

bids the
streams keep
their waters
for them-

streames, keepe yon[r] waters to yoii[r] owne selves,

behoues,^
or let wild beasts be welcome therunto ;
w/th those pearle dropps I will not haiie to doe.

" Hold, tyrant ! take a tast of my good will ;

for thus I doe begin my bloodye bout ;
you cannot chuse but like the greeting ill, —
1 48 it is not tliat same club will beare you out, —
& take this payment oa thy shaggy e crowne,"
!i blow tliat brought him wrth 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 lawes were euer scene soe wyde

to open & to shut, — till liffe was spent.
1.56 soe Guy tooke Keyes, & to the castle went,

cuts off his
head,

160

Where manye woefull captiues he did find,
w/«'ch had beene tyred with extremitye,

whom he in ffreindly manner did vnbind,
& reasoned wc'th them of their miserye.

eche told a tale w/th teares & siglies & cryes,

all weeping to him \v/th complainniug eyes.

sets free his
captives, —

well.— P.

be weapon-proof. — P.

^ behoof.— P.

142

GDYE AND AMARANT.

who had
been fed on
their dead
lovers and
husbands, —

and the
palmer's
fifteen sons,

who were
like the
pictures of
Death.

164

1G8

172

176

180

Guy restores

the palmer

his sons, ] §4

gives him
the giant's
castle, 1 '

There tender Lai dyes in darke dungeon' lay,
thai were surprised in the desart wood,

& had noe other dyett euerye day

then flesh of humane creatures for their food ;

some wi'th their loners bodyes had beene fed,

& in their wombes ^ their husbands buryed.

Now he bethinkes him of his being there,

to enlarge they ^ wronged Brethren from ^ their
w[oes ;]

& as he searcheth, doth great clamors heare;
by wZw'ch sad sounds direction, on he goes

vntill he findes a darkesome obscure gate,

armed strongly ouer all wz'th Iron plate :

That ^ he vnlockes, and enters where appeares

the strangest obiect that he cue?- saw,
men thai w^'th famishment of many yeerres

will ^ were like deaths picture, -which the painters
dra[w ;]
diuers of them were hanged by eche thumbe ;
others, head downeward ; by the middle, summe.'^

With dilligence he takes them from the walls,
Wi'th lybertye their thraldome to accquainte.

then the perplexed 'Knighi the father calls,

& sayes, " receiue thy sonnes, thoe poore & faint !

I pj'omised you their hues ; eccept of thai ^ ;

but did not p/-omise 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 ;

» Only half of the first n in the MS.
— F.

2 ? MS. womhers.— F.

» the.— P.

* There is something like a blotched o
before the r in the MS. — F,

^ Then.— P.

•* deleud. — P.

' some. — P. The e, and last stroke of
the m, have been cut off by the binder.
_F.

^ 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."

and charges
him to use
the women
well.

196

The good old man, enen ouenoyed with this,

fell on the ground, & wold haue kist Guys fee[t.]

"father," q?(oth hee, " refraine soe base a kisse !
for age to honor youth, I hold vnmeete ;

ambitious pryd hath hurt me all it can,

I goe to mortific a sinfall man." ffins.

Gny 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 L, most of which occurred
between 1625 and 1630.

" Gales," 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
Rochelle 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 Right ; 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 Right,
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 40^. 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.)

' A kind of State Satire on the abuses in Charles P.' 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. Rushicorth, 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 Eichard IL He was one
of that King's evil advisers, was impeached by parliament, found
guilty of treason, and hanged at Tyburn ^ — which may be said to
be the moral of this poem. J. Bruce.

ATT cales wee latelye made afray,
att He of Ree ^ wee run away,
our shippes poore Rochell did betray.
4 5 subsiddyes for that,

And then wee shall to sea againe,
all that ^ our generall was slaine,
& now wee hane made peace with spaine,
8 lacke fFellton !

We've been
defeated
right and
left,

but give us
five subsidies

and we'll

fight again.

S("r Artigall grand Toi-to^ slew ;
now eue?ye man must have his dew
by vertne of a gracious new
Petition of riffht.

[page 235]

We've a new
Petit on of
Eight.
What a
blessing !

' See Politiccd Poems and Songs, ed.
Wright, vol. i. p. 423, 460.

^ See Marc Lescarbot's " La chasse
aux Anglois en I'lsle de Rez et au Siege

VOL. II.

de la Rochelle." Paris, 1629.— F.
^ Altho' or Albeit.— P.
* See Spencer's Fairy Queen. — P.

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.

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 lohn,
Pope lohn the twelft, an able man ;
heeres to the daffe, He pledge the don,
20 A pnlpitt of sacke !

Noe more of that, doe not presume,
fibr ifeare of the Inquisition at Rome,
where thou shalt find a cropeare dome,
24 Cryes Layston.

Ten poundes for not being made a K.nighi ;
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 lustice ffought with lustice Cell
32 Att Gloster.

Be dutiful,
or else you'll
turn French-
men, and
have to wear
wooden
shoes.

Be dutifull, good people all,
the gouerment else alter shall,
& bring you to the state of Gaule,
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.

147

This copy is given iu the ReUques " 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 Bagford 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 tlie 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 Tam-
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 Ecdesice of Giraldus Cambren-
sis (an. 1220) printed in Rellquke Aiitiquce i. 147; King
Edward and the Shejjherd, and The King [Edward] and the
Hermit in Hartshorne's Metrical Tales (p. 35. p. 293, the latter
previously in The British Bibliographer iy. 81); Raiif Coilzear,

' In the printed Collect/on of Old Ballads, 1727, Vol. i. p. 53. Xo. VIII.— P.

L 2

148

KINGE AND MILLEE.

hov) 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 lov/ 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-
natinsf. 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 loyal 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.

H.iwk and
hound are
•Jet go.

JuLElSrERY, our royall Kmf/, wold goe a huntinge
to the greene fForrest soe pleasant & fayre,

to haue the Larts chased, the daintye does tripping ;
to merry Sherwood his nobles repaj^e ;

hanke & hound was vnbound, all things prepared

for the same to the game yvith good regard.

The King
hunts all
day,

and at night
loses himself
in the wood.

AH a longe sumiiiers day rode the K.ing pleasantlye
with all his princes & nobles eclie one,

chasing the hart & hind & the bucke gallantlye,
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 nig-ht.

KINGE AND MILLER.

149

Wandering thus wearilye all alone vp & do^vne,
witli a rude Miller lie mett att the Last,

asking the ready way vnto fayre Nottingham.
" Sir," Qttoth the Miller, " I meane not to lest,

yett I thinke what I thinke truth for to say,

you doe not lightly e goe out of yoitr way."

lie ineets a

Miller,
and asks liis
way to Not-
tinghain.
The Miller

"Why, what dost thou thinke of me?" Qwoth our
Km^ merrily,
20 "passing thy iudgment vpon ^ me soe breefe."

" good faith," Quoth, the Miller, " I meane ^ not to
flatter thee,
" I gesse thee to bee some gentleman theefe ;
stand thee backe in the darke ! light not adowne,
24 lest I presentlye cracke thy knaues cro[wn]e ! "

takes the
King for a
thief,
and

threatens to
crack his
crowu.

" Thou doest abuse me much," qiioih our K:mg,
" saying thus.
I am a gentleman, and lodging doe lacke."
"thou hast not," quoth, the Miller, " a groat in thy
pursse ;
all thine inheritance hanges on thy backe."
" I haue gold to dischai^ge for that I call ;
if itt be 40 pence, I will pay all."

The King
snys he's a
gentleman
who wants
lodging,

and can pay
for it.

" If thou beest a true man," then said the Miller, The Miller

' ' oilers to

" I sweare by my tole dish He lodge theo all night." ii^f^sehim,

" Heeres my hand," quoth, our K.ing, '^ that was I [pfigesse]
euer."

"nay, soft," quoth, the Miller, "thou mayst be a
sprite ;

better He know thee ere hands I will shake : . . .^

' Dut \\ on V

with none but honest men hands will I take." withVim"*^*

' MS. vpom.— F.

= Only half the n in the MS.— F.

150

KINGE AND MILLER.

They go into

the iMiller's
smoky house,

Tims they went all alonge into the Millers house,
where they were seeding ^ of puddings & souce.^

the Miller first entered in, then after went the Kiiig ;
neuer came he in soe smoakye a house. ^

" now," quoth hee, "let me see heere what you are."

Qttoth our King, "looke you[r] fill, & doe not spare."

and the wife
asks if the
King is a
runaway.

Where is his 43
passport ?

" I like well thy countenance ; thou hast an honest
fac[e] ;
with my Sonne Richard this night thou shalt Lye."
Q^toth his wiflTe, " by my troth it is a good hansome
yout[h] ;
yet it is best, husband, to deale warrilye.
art thoix not a runaway ? I pray thee, youth, tell ;
show vs thy pasport & all shalbe -well."

He has none,

as he is a
courtier.

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,
but a poore Courtyer rode out of the way ;

& for joicv kindnesse now offered to me,

I will requite it in eue>ye degree."

10
Then to the Miller his wiffe whisperd secretlye,

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,
when as he speaks to his betters in place."

"Well," qttoththe Millers wiffe, "younge man, welcome
heer[e] !
& tho I sayt, well lodged shalt thou be ;

' seething, boiling. — F.
^ The head, feet, and ears of swine
boi'ed and pickled for eating. Halli-

well.— F.

» See Forewords to Babees Soke, p.
Ixiv.—F.

KINGE AND MILLER. 151

fresli straw I will lay vpon joiir bed soe braue, and he may

64 good browne hempen slieetes likwise," Quoth shea, on straw

. and hemp

" I," QMoth the goodman, " & when that is done, sheets with

their son,

thou shalt lye noe worse then our owne Sonne."

" Nay first," quoth Richard, " good fellowe, tell me
true,
68 hast thou noe creepe/'s in thy gay hose ? if iiehasno

1 r, , , creepers in

art thou not troubled w tth the Scabbado ^ r his breeches,

"pray you," quoth the 'King, "what things are
those ?
art thou not lowsye nor scabbed ? " q2toth hee ; and is not

scabbed.

72 "if thou beest, surely thou lyest not with me.

This caused our 'King 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

w7wch did about the bord Merrilye troule.

"Heere," auoth the Miller, " good fellowe, lie drinke The Miiier

' ^ ' ° ' drinks to the

to thee ^»g'

80 & to all the courtnolls that curteous bee."

"I pledge thee," quoth our King, "& thanke thee and the King

to him

heartilye
for my good welcome in eue^ye degree ;
& heere in like manner I drinke to thy sonne." and his son.

84 " doe then," sales 'Richard, " & quicke let it come."

15
" Wifi'e," quoth the Miller, " feitch me forth lightfoote, The Miiier
that wee of his sweetnesse a litle may tast." Lightfoot.

a faire venson pastye shee feiched forth presentlye.

' MS. may be ScoUoado. See Forewords to Babees Soke, 1 868, p. Ixiv. — F.

152

KINGE AND MILLER.

The King
like? it
immensely.

" eate," qwoth the Miller " but first make noe wast ;
heer is dainty Lightfoote." " infaith," quoth, our King,
" I neuer before eate of soe dayntye a tbinge."

Where can
he buy some?

If 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

" Then I thinke," qwoth our Kwig, " that it is Venison."

" eche foole," quoth Richard, " full well may see that ;
neuer are we without 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 K.mg shold it know."

Certainly
not, says
the King.

morning the
nobles

find the King

at the
Miller's
house,
and fall on
their knees
before him.

18
" doubt not," saies ^ our King, " my promised secresye ;
104 the King shall neuer know more ont for mee."
a cupp of lambes woole ^ 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;

19 [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,

• MS. saiy.— F.

* A favoixrite 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 AND MILLEK.

153

112 w/w'ch made the Millers hart wofullye bleed. TheMUier

Shaking & quaking before him he stood, quakes,

thinking he shold be hanged by the rood.

20
The K[ing] perceiuing him fearfully tremblinge,
1 1 6 drew forth his sword, but nothing he said ;
the Miller downe did fall crying before them all,

doubtinge ^ the JLi/ig wold exit of his head,
but he, his kind curtesie for to requite,
120 gaue him great lining, & dubd him a 'Knight.

When as our noble King came from Nottingam,

& 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 out offj

but is
knighted.

At West-
minster,
afterwards,

22
"And now, my Lortfs," quoth, the King, "I am de- the King

. . , resolves

termmed,

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 lollye Knight & the younge squier."

23
When as the Noble Lords saw the Kings merriment,

the were right loyfull & glad in their harts.
a Pursiuant the sent straight on this busines,
136 the which, oftentimes vsed those parts.

when he came to the place where he did dwell,
His message merrilye then he did tell.

to ask tho
Miller and
his son up
to a feast.

A pur-
suivant is
sent with
the invita-
tion.

' fearing. — F.

154

KIXGE AM) MILLER.

which he
delivers in
due form.

" God saue yowr worshippe," then said the messeBger,
]40 " & grant jour Ladje ' her owne harts desh^e ;

& to jour Sonne 'Richard good fortune & happinesse,
that sweet yonnge gentleman & gallant squier !

our K.ing 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," qttoth 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," qiooth the Messenger, " you doe mistake ;
our 'King p^-epares a great feast for jouv 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 wccle wavtc On his Mastershipp in euerye thing"."

to come. '' i. 1 J a

The

pursuivant
reports all
to the King.

160

The pursivant smyled at their simplicitye ;

& making many ^ leggs, tooke their reward,
& takeing then his leaue w;'th gTeat humilitye,

to the Kwi^s court againe hee repayred,
showing vnto his grace in euerye degree
the Knights most liberall giflPts & great bountye.

• ? MS, Ladyes.— F.

Only half the n in the MS.— F.

KIXGE AM) MILLEH.

loD

"When liee was gone away, thus can the Miller say,
164 " heere comes expences & charges indeed ! TheMuier

now must wee needs be braue, tho wee spend all wee buy^new ^

, clothes,

haue ; horses, &c.

for of new garments wee haue great need,
of horsses & serving men wee must haue store,
168 w/th bridles & sadles & 20'^." thino-s more."

172

" Tushe, Sir lohn," q?toth his wiffe, " neither doe frett His wife

. dissuades

nor irowne ! Mm.

you shall bee att noe more charges of mee !
for I will turne & trim vp my old russett gowne,

wi'th eue>ye thing else as fine as may bee ;
& on our Mill horsses full SAvift wee will ryd,
Wi'th pillowes & pannells as wee shall provyde."

She'll trim
up the old
clothes,

and they'll
ride their
mill-horses.

In this most statelye sort the rod vnto the court,
176 their lusty sonne Hichard formost of all,

who sett vp by good hap a cockes fether in his cappe ;
& soe the ietted downe towards the Km^s hall,

the Merry old Miller w/th his hands on his side,
180 his wiffe like Maid Marryan did Mince at that tyde.

Thus they
go to court.

The 'Kinj & his nobles that hard of their coming,

meeting this gallant K.night with, this braue traine,
"welcome, S/r KHu/At," qztoth hee, "w/th this jouv The King

T J I ■welcomes

gay Lady ! them,

184 good Sir lohn Cockle, once welcome againe ;
& soe is this squier of courage soe free ! "
Q^foth dicke, " abotts on you ! doe you know me ? "

0«oth our K/«'/ s:entlye, " how shall I forgett thee ? andassui-es

^ J o J ' o Richard

188 thou wast my owne bed-fellow ; well that I wot, 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."
" thou horson happy knaue," the[n] qiioth the K.night,
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 Kmgr tooke them by the hand,
w^'th Ladyes & their maids, like to the Queene of
spades
196 the Millers wiffe did most order lye stand ;
a milkemaids curtesye at euerje word,
& downe these folkes were set to the bord, ;

and after
dinner
drinks to
the Miller,

and wants
some of his
venison.

Where the K.ing royally with princely Maiestye
200 sate at his dinner with loy & delight.

when he had eaten well, to resting then hee fell ;
taking a bowle of wine, dranke to the 'Knight,

" heeres to you both ! " he sayd, "in ale, wine, & beere,
204 thanking you hartilye for all my good cheere."

35
Quoth. S/r lohn Cockle, " He pledge you a pottle,

were it the best ale in N'ottingam-shire."
"but then," said our King, " I thinke on a thinge,
208 some of jour lightfoote I wold we had heere."

" ho : ho : " Quoth. Richar^^, " 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 ? " q?(oth 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," quoth Dicke, "till I haue
dind ,
you feed vs with twatling dishes soe small.
216 zounds ! a blacke pudding is better then all;"

KINGE AND MILLEB.

157

" I, marry," qtioth our K/h*/, " that were a daintye thing,

if wee cold gett one heere for to eate."
wt'th that, dicke straight arose, & plucket one out of
his h[ose,]
220 ■which, w/th heat of his breech began for to sweate.
the 'King made profer to snatch it away ;
" its meate foryo«r Maste?; good Sir, you shall stay ! "

3S
Thus with great merriment was the time ^ wholy spent ;

& then the Ladyes prepared to dance,
old S/r lohn ^ Cockle & Richarc? incontinent

vnto this pi-actise the 'King did advance,
where-wi'th the Ladyes such sport the did make,
the loobies with laughing did make their heads ake.

Many thankes for their paines the King did giue them
then,
asking young Richard if he wold be wed :
" amongst these ladyes faire, tell me w^ich Hketh thee."
232 Q?(oth hee, " lugg Grumball wtth the red head ;
shees my loue ; shees my liffe ; her will I wed ;
shee hath sworne I shall haue her maidenhead."

224

228

and pulls
one outoE
his breeches.

"That's meat
for jour
master, Sir
King."

The Miller
and Richard
dance with
the ladies,

and make
the nobles
laugh.

TheKing
asks Dick
which lady
he'd like.
" Jugg
Grumball
with the red
head."

236

Then Sir lohn Cockle the King called vnto him ;

& of Merry sherwood made him ouerseer,
& gaue him out of hand 300'| yearlye.

The King
makes the
Miller
overseer of
, , , , - /. -, Sherwood,

but now take heede you steale noe more of mj^ deere ! and warns

him not to

& once a quarter lets heare haue yowr vew ; steal any

deer.

240 & thus, Sir lohn Cockle, I bid thee adew ! "

' A y has been altered into part of
the m in the MS.— F.

ffins.

^ Only half the « in the MS.— F.

['' Panche," pri7ited in Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 61, follows here
in the MS.]

158

AaiNCOURT 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
long 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 cUenfer of oiu- 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 Aziiicouri. 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 —

' In the printed Collection of Old Ballads, 1726, vol. ii. p. 79, No. xii.

AGINCOUKTE 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 Edivard 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, and 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 Eevenge for the Affront
offered by the French King in sending hiin 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-Briton's 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.
565, fol. 102-14, beginning '-God j^at alle J>is world gan make,"
and printed among the illustrations of The Chronicle of London,
4to, 1827, and in Nicolas, p. 301-29. /3. "The Siege of Har-
flet, & Batayl of Agencourt, by K. Hen. 5:" another copy
of Lydgate'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 his edition of Elmliarn^s 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
Eouen. Impryntyd by John Skot [about 1530 a.d.]. Re-
printed in Nicolas, and in Mr. W. C. Hazlitt's Remains of the

160 AGIiNCOURTE 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).'

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.^

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 Grrey, &c. — whom Monstrelet calls le Comte d^Ourset,
ancle du Roy d'Angleterre, le Comte de Grez, VAdmiral
d'Angleterre, les Euesques du Dmnelin et de Noruegue, et
plusieurs autres iasques 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-

' Hazlitt's Handbook. = Bohn's Lowndes, p. 2280, col. 2.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 161

ments for the expedition were made was held at Westminster on
three successive daj^s, 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 hoyres, 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 polic}^, 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 thebu the dolphine of Fratince atinswered to our erabassatours,
and said in this maner, ' that the kyng was ouer yong and to tender
of age to make any warre aj^ens hym, and was not lyke yet to be
noo good werrionre to doo and to make suche a conquest there vpon
hjva. And somwhat in scorne and dispite he sente to hym a tonne
fulle of tenys ballis, be-cause he wolde haue some- what for to play
withalle 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 Dolphyn, and of the present the whiche he had sent vnto
the kyng. And whan y^ kjTig had hard her wordis, and the auswere
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 hera 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 goune
stones for the Dolpynne to play wythe-alle. (fol. 1, back.)

' Printed in Coles's Memorials of Henry V.
VOL. II, M

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 ineules toutes eiitieres), 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 Graucourt 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,' " under the captain ^ (Sir John Blount, says

' 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, Ave may presume,

taken in the months of Janiiary, Feb- had been left behind when the King

ruary, and March, immediately following marched on to Agincourt. Hunter, p. 5.5.

the battle. It consisted of 4 barons, '^ J7elordBeauford,IIarl.MS.57o,f. 75 b.

AGINCODRTE BATTELL. 163

Monstrelet), certain barons and knights skilful in atfairs 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.^ 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, menant I'auantgarde, se logea a Frenench sur la riuiere

de Gauche." 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.

' The highest number in any of the otlier persons. Note to ITarJyng'a
sixteen ckronicles that Nicolas gives Chronicle, ' according to the computation
(p. 133, ed. 1832) is "3 Dukes, Counts, of the Heralds.'" 150,000 occurs in a
90 Barons, 1050 Knights, and 100,000 doubtful list. Nicolas, p. 370.

M 2

164 AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

And the duke of yorke felle on knees and besonglite the kyng of a
bone, that he wold graunte hym that day the avaiinteward in his
batayle. And the kyng graunted hym his askyng, And sayd,
" gro-unte 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 shnld not oner-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 comyiig on of hem at the fyrst brount : and al
nyghte be-ifore the bataile ])^ ffrenshemen raade many grete fiers and
moche reuelle, with howtyng and showtyng, and plaid oure kyng and
his lordis at the disc, and an archer alway for a blanke ^ of hir money,
ffor they wenden alle had bene heres. the morne arose, the day gan
sprjTig, And the kyng by goode auise let araie his batayle ^ and his
wcnges, and charged euery man to kepe hem hole to-geders, and
praid hem alle to be of good chere. And whan they were redy, he
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 letvs goo to oure iorney." And
than he said with an highe vois, " in the name * of almyghtey god and
seynt George, avaunt Baner! and seint george this day be thyne
helpe ! " And than these flFrenshmen 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- rays,
but yt persshed and broughte to grounde man and hors ; ffor they
])at day shoten for a wager. And oure stakes mad hem stoppe, &
ouer-terned echo on oothir that they lay on hopes two spere lenghthe
of heyghte. And oure kyng with his meyne and with his men of
armes and archiers that thakked ^ 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 J^^ victorie. and there
Avere slayne of ffrenshmen that day in the felde of Agincourte mo
thanne A xi M^i withe prisoners that were taken. And there were
nombred that day of ffrenshmen in the felde mo than six score thou-

' MS. fol. 3, back. ^ The main body under his own com-

^ Fr. Mane, the halfe of a Sol, a pecce mand. Tlie vanguard as the right wing

of 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 one of ours. — Cot- ■• MS. manie.

grave. ^ thwacked, beat, pattered.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 165

sand, and of English emen nat vij si^^; but god that day faughte for vs.
And after cam ther tydynges to oure kjTig 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 yvithdrowe hem, and
brake hir bataille and alle hir AiTay. And this oure kyng, as a
worthy conqueror, had that day the victorye in the felde of Agencourt
in Picardie.^

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 an Roy Anglois, que les rran9ois les
assailloient par derriere : & qu'ils auoient desia prins ses sommiers
& autres bagues, laquelle chose estoit veritable : car Robinet de
Boumonuille, Rifflart de Clamasse, Tsarabart d'Azincourt, & aucuns
autres hoHimes 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 maj-ched
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 fat 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 wjne. (Cott. Claud. A. viii.
leaf 4, back).

The last three verses of our ballad quicken and alter events

' Nicolas quotes this also, p. 277-8, tit foot.

16G

AGINCOUETE BATTELL.

considerably. It was not till after many a weary siege and
fight, culminating with the fall of Rouen on January 16, 1419/
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 councell braue ^ 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 K.ing he sent,
tJiat he might fFully vnderstand
8 his mind & whole entente.

to yield him
his right,

or he'll take
it.

desiring him, as '' freindlye sort,

his lawfull Wright to yeeld,
or else he sware ^ by dint of sword
1 2 to win the same in feild.

Charles VI. the ^ing of ffrance, with all his lords

who ^ heard this message plaine,
vnto our braue embassador
answers iq g^g^ answer in disdaine ;

' See the "Sege of Eoan," ArchcBol.
xxi. 48 ; xxii. 361.— F.

^ grave, P.O. (Prinf? Copy).— P.
=" Of. Conj[ecture].— P.

* in, P.O.— P.
^ vow'd, P.O.— P.
« which, P.O.— P.

AGINCOUltTE BATTELL.

167

who sayd,* "our 'King was yett but ^ youngo

& of a 3 tender age ;
wlierfor I way not for his wai'res/

nor care not for his rage,^

" wliose 6 knowledge eke ^ in ffeats of armes,

whose sickill ^ [is] but ^ verry small,
whose ^^ tender ioynts more flitter are
24 to tosse a Tennys ball."

that he
cares not for
Henry's
threats,

a tunn of Tennys balls therfore,

in pryde and great disdaine
he sends to IToble Henery the 5'!*,"
28 who recompeneed '^ his paine.

and sends
him a tun of
tennis-balls.

& when our K.ing this message hard

he waxed wrath in his '^ hart,
& said " he wold such balls provyde
S2 thai '^ shold make all france to smart.

Henry

an army great ^"^ our King prepared,'^

that was both good & strong ;
& from Sowthampton is our Ki^rg
36 with all his Nauye gone.

prepares an
army,

he landed in fifrance both safe ""' and sound

With all his warlike traine ;
vnto '^ a towne called Harffleete first '^
40 he marched vp amaine.

lands in
France,

' And feign'd, P.C— P.
2 too, P.C— P.
s of too, P.O.— P.
* we weigh — -of his war, P.C — P.
^ fear we his courage, P.C. — P.
« His, P.C— P.
' is, P.C— P.
8 skill.— P.

» As yet but &c., P.C— P.
"> His.— P

" Ho sent unto our noble K? , P.C.
-P.

'^ To recompence, P.C. — P.

'« d.—T.

'* then, P.C— P.

'=> did raise, P.C— P.

'" In France he landed safe, &c., P.C.
-P.

" And to, P.C— P.

"* of Harfleur strait, P.C— P.

168

AGINCOUETE BATTELL.

besieges
Harfleiir,

and wlien 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.

^ And he bad them yeeld [up to him ^]

themselnes & eke their towne,
or else he sware vnto the earth
48 with cannon ^ to beate them downe.

[page 242]

^ the great gunn of Caleis was vpsett,''

he mounted against those walls ^ ;
the strongest steepele in the towne,
52 he threw downe bells & all.

The Govern-
ors give up
the town.

^ then those that were the gouernors
their woefull hands did wringe ^ ;
the brought their Keyes in humble sort
56 vnto our gracious 'King.

Henry
garrisons it,

' & when the towne was woone and last,

the fFrenchmen out the " threw,
& placed there 300 englishmen
60 that wold to him be true.

and
marches to

this being done, our Noble King^

marched vp & downe that ^ land,-
& not a ffrenchman fFor his lifFe
64 durst once his fforce withstand,—

' These 4 stanz! not in print. — P.

2 MS. cut away. It lias more words.
-F. He bade the governors give up.
-P.

* guns. — P.

* then.— P.

* was. .'gainst their wall. — P.

« Only half the n in the MS.— F.
' he.— P.

* done our noble Engk'sh King, P.O.
-P.

8 the, P.C.— P.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

till ■• he came to Agincourt ;

& 2 as it was his chance,
to ffind 3 the K-ing in readinesse,

w^'th him was all the power of ffrance,

169

Agincourt,

where the
French King
is,

a mightye host they "* had prepared

off armed souldiers then,
which, was noe lesse (the chronicle sayes) ^
72 then 600000 ^ men.7

with 000,000
men.

the K:mg of ffrance that well did know

the number of our men,
in vanting pride vnto our K.ing
76 sends one of his heralds ^ then

Charles

senJs

a herald

to vnderstand what he wold gitie

for the ^ ransome of his liffe,
when in thai feild he had taken him *"
80 amiddst that ^^ bloody striffe.

to ask Henry
what ransom
he'll pay for
his life.

& when 12 our 'King the Message heard,!^

did straight the ^'^ answer make,
saying, " before that thing shold ^^ come to passe,
84 many ^^ of their harts shold ^^ ake !

Henry
answers

' Until, P.C— P.

^ Where, P.C— P.

^ Ho found. — P. him was, 1. 68,
marked out by P. coni[ecturally]. — F.

* He, P.C— P.

^ by just account, P.C — P.

« 40,000, P.C— P.

' Between 18 and lO'.*^ Stanza of y«
MS. is the following in Print: —
Which siglit did much amaze our king.

For ho and * all his host

Not passing fifteen tliousaud had,

Accounted at the most. — P.
Did send a Herald, P.C— P.
d.—F.

he in field sh'd ... be, P.C—
their, P.C— P.
then . . .—P.
with cheerful heart. — P.
this.— P.

thi7ig shold, cut out by P. — F.
some. — P.
shall, P.C— P.

* n.— P.

170

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

" My heart's
blood."

■ vnto your proud pi'esumptuss prince

declare this tiling," qiioth. liee,
my owne harts blood shall pay the price ;

nought ^ else he getts of me." *

The French

then all the night the frenchman Lyen,

With triumphe, mirth, & loy ;
the next morning they mad fall accomp[t] *
92 our Armye to destroye.

play at dice
for the
English,

& for our K:ing & all his Lords

at dice the * playd apace,
& for our comon souldiers coates
96 they set a prize but base.

and value
their red
coats at Sd.,
white at 4d.

8 pence for a redd coate,'

& a groate was sett to a white ; ^
because they ^ color was soe light,
100 they sett noe better buy itt.®

Henry en-
courages his
men:

the cheerfull day at last was come ;

our Kmg -with. N'oble hart
did pray his valliant soldiers all
104 to play a worthy e part.

& not to shrinke from fainting foes,

whose fearfull harts in ffeeld
wold by their feirce couragious stroakes
108 be soone in-forced ^ to yeeld ;

' none. — P.

^ Seven Stanz' following not in Print.

* Making account the next morning,
or,
They made &c.— P. del. full.— P.

4 they.— P.

* coat -was set.^P.

* And fourpence for a white. — P.
' The ^ put in brackets by P. co?2y.
" by't.— P.

' enforced .^P.

-F.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL,

171

" regard not of ' their multitude,

tlio tliey are more then wee,
for eche of vs well able is
112 to beate downe ffrenchmen 3 ;

" Don't
niiiul the
French
numbers ;
each of us
can kill
three of
them ; but

" yett let eu^rye man provide himselfe ^

a strong ^ 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 * bespake the Duke of yorke

" O noble 'King," said hee,
" the leading of that ^ battell braue
120 vouch[s]afe to giue it ^ me ! "

The Duke of
York

leads the
vanguard.

" god amercy, cosen yoi'ke," sayes hee, Henry

" I doe ^ grant thee thy request ;
Marche you ® on couragiouslye, [page 243]

124 & I will guide ^ the rest." the rest.

then came the bragginge frenchmen downe

with cruell ^^ force & might.
With whome our noble King began
128 a harde & cruell flight.

The French
come on.

our English archers • ^ discharged their shafts Our archers

as thicke as hayle in skye,'^
& 13 many a frenchman in thai •"* feelde kiii many;

132 that happy day did dye ;

' you, or then. — P.

2 hi)nse!fe is in 1. 114 in the MS. P.
marks it to go to 1. 113. i/ett is marked
out by P. — P.

^ But yet let every man provide
A strong &e. — P.

* With that, P.O.— P.

^ this (the), P.C— P.

8 to, P.O.— P.

' dlelel—F.

s then— thou, P.C— P.

" lead, P.O.- P.
'» greater, PC— P.
" d. English. [Insert] they, P.C— P.
'2 from skye, P.C— P.
'» That, P.C— P.
'* the, P.C— P.

172

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

their stakes
tstop the
horse.

1 ffor tlie liorssmen stumbled on our stakes,

& SOB tliefr liues they lost ;
& many a frencliman there was tana
136 for pr/soners to their ^ cost.

10,000
French are
slain,

10,000
taken,

10000 ffrenchmen ^ there were slaine

of enemies in the ffeeld,
& neere as many prisoners tane *
140 that day were Sbrced to yeeld.

and Henry
wins the
day.

thus had our 'King a happy day

& victorye ouer ffrance ;
he brought his foes vnder his ffeete ^
144 thai late in pride did prance.

While the
fight is going
on, news
comes

^ when they were at the Maine battell there

with all their might & forces, then ^
a crye came flProm our English tents
148 that we were robbed all them ^ ;

that the
French have
plundered
the English
tents.

for the Duke of Orleance, wi'th a band of men,

to our English tents they came ^ ;
all "^ our lewells & treasure that they haue taken,
152 & many of our boyes ^^ haue slaine.

Henry

much greeved was 'King ^^ Harry therat, —

this was against ^^ the law of armes then, —
comands euejye souldier on paine of death

orders all
the French

prisoners to 156 to slav euervc prisoucr then. ^ ■*

be slain, •' J i.

' This stanza not in Print. — P.
^ [prisoner ••] his, [P.]C. — P.
» men that day, P.C.— P.

* (d. P.C.>— P.

* tliem quickly under foot, P.O. — P.

® 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.

' force and might.^P.
* they were robbed quite.— P.
^ Of men unto tkem came. — P.
'" And prefixed; Jewells cf, and that
marked out by P.— F.
" all our boys, so ShakespT — P.
>2 the Kw;g.— P.

'^ Being 'gainst. — P. and then deleted.
— F.
'* And bade y"?^ slay their Prisoners
For to revenge these hurms. — P.

AGINCOUETE BATTELL.

173

IGO

164

lf)8

172

176

200000 ' fFrencliemeu our Englislniicn had,

some 2, & some had one ^ ;
eiie/ye one was commanded by sound of trixmpett

to slay Ill's prisoner then.'

& then the followed vpon the maine hattell ;

the ifrenchmen the fled then "*
towards the citye of Paris

as fast as the ^ might gone.

but then ther was neuer a peere Wi'th-in france ^

of all those ^ Nobles then,
of all those worthye Disse peeres,

durst come to K.iiig Harry ^ then.

but then Katherine, the K.mgs fayre daughter thcre,^

being proued apparant his heyre,
with her maidens '"^ in most sweet attire
to 'King Harry did repayre ; ' '

& when shee came before our ^^ King,

slice kneeled vpon her knee,
desiring him ^^ that his warres wold '* cease,

& thai ^^ he her loue wold bee.

200,000 of
them.

The French
flee towards
Paris,

and no
Duzeper
flai'es meet
King Harry;

bvit the

Princess

Kallioriuc

comes and
asks him

to marry
her.

180

there- vpon our English Lords then agreed '-^

With the Peeres of ffrance then "^ ;
soe he Marryed Katherine, the Kinns faire dauo-liter, We docs, and

'' ' '' ° ' is crowned

& was crowned King in Paris then.'^

ffins.

King in
Paris.

' 10,000.— P. Both men deleted. —F.
'' Some one and some had two. — P.
* And each was bid by Trumpets sound
To slay his prisoner tho,

His Prisoner to slo. — P.

^ anon.— P. the, 1. 162, and cj-, the and
vp of I. 161 deleted by P.— F.

« they.— P.

^ Then was there never a Peer in
France. Conj.^P.
Then couhl there not be found in France

Of their Nobles all or Some. — P.

' Not one of all those. — P.
' to K? Harry come. — P.
» King's Daughter fair, [P.]C.— P.
'» all— Maids.— P. then, 1. 169, his,
1. 170, most, 1. 171, marked d by P._F.
" Did to our King repl^, [P.]C. — P.
'2 our.— P.
" d.—F.
'■• might.— P.
'^ Our K« & — Lords.— P.
'" Soon with the French agreed. — -P,
" So at Paris ho fair Kath"."" wed
And crowned was with speed. — P.

174

Theke are two sides to Early English Literature ; one gay, the
other grave ; one light, the other earnest : and a man who conies
to the subject fresh from straggles in 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 CJtronicle 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 Christes
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. Ovir 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, " ivhat do you mean? 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
tiiken 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 ovm way in divers places of his genial and able book,'
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 was 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 Grod'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 Grod 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 Gower as of one crying in the wilderness, ' 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-

' English Writers, vol. ii. pt. i. p. 106-7.

CONSCIENCE. 177

country, of which there was much about the Thames mouth,
Gyrwa-knd. 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
w^ho read see with him. But in his own old English or Anglo-
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 Grod
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. ' Grod 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. II. 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 Grod 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,

{jis boc is y write

uor englisse men, )>et hi wyte (may learn)

hou hi ssolle ham-zelue ssriue,

and maki ham klene ine J>ise liue.

With Ei chard Rolle of Hampole in 1345 (or thereabouts), its
writer desires that by his Pricke of Conscience men may

Be stird Jjar-by til ryghtwyse way,
Jjat 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 Mode 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

lacteristics of the successive periods of our social history, aud
be 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 wines & tlieir children soe hange them vpon,
tJuit whosoeuer giues almes deeds they will giue none,

when set beside Eoberd of Brunne's complaints, in his Handlyiuj
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 ocSre fele lerdemen speken alse lewede alse ure drihten seide
])iirli anes prophetes mu6e. Uiit sictit poindus sacerdos. Prest sal
leden his lif alse lewede m£en . and swo liie do^ nuSe '. and sumdel
werse. For ])e lewede man wnr?ie6 liis spuse mid cloSes more fane mid
liim seluen. and prest naht sis (==so his) chireche, }>e is his spuse '
ac his daie, ]'e is his hore . awlencS hire mid clones . more ]>an him
seluen. De chirche clothes ben to-brokene ' and calde . and his
wiues shule ben hole i and newe . His alter cloS great and sole ' and
hire chemise smal and hwit . and te albe sol '■ and hire smoc hwit.
pe haued-line sward '. and hire winipel wit . o5er maked gelen mid
safFran. De meshakele of medeme fustain . and hire mentel gi^ene
o5er biirnet. De corporeals solei and unshapliche . hire hanclcloSes .
and hire bord cloSes maked wite and lusthche on to siene. De caliz
of tin ; and hire nap of mazere and ring of golde. And is ])e prest
swo muchele forcuSere . ]>ane ]>e lewede. Swo he wurSeS his hore
more ]'an his spuse. — Homilies in Trinity Coll. M8.k.v>. 1200.

Translation hij ^Ir. Jxichard Morris.

And many other learned men speak as the unlearned, as our Lord
spake through the mouth of a prophet, Erit sicut, Sj'c. The priest
shall lead his life as the laity ; and so they do now, and somewhat
worse, 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), w^ho is his whore, whom he adorneth w^ith
clothes more than himself. The church cloths are raq-ged and old,

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 burnet ; the
corporas soiled and badly made, her hand-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 tant« miserise ? . . . Sunt illi qui hodie
passim, in Anglia, praidia monasteriorum gravissimis annuis
reditibus auxerimt. Hinc omnium rerum exauctum pretium ; hi
homines expilant totam rempublicam. Villici et coloni universi
laborant, parcunt, corradunt, ut istis satisfaciant. . . Hinc tot
familige dissipatse, tot domus collapsse . . Hinc, quod omnium
miserrimum est, nobile illud decus efc robur Angliae, nomen, in-

quam, YomanoTum Anglorum, fractum et eollisum est

Nam vita, qu^ nunc vivitur a plurimis, non vita, 8ed 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 Descriptloii 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 exchauge of vessel], as of

CONSCIENCE. 181

treene plattei's into pcAvter, and woodden spooncs 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 Avas perad-
uenture a salt) in a good farmer's house, and yet for all this fragalitie ^
(if it may so be iustly called) they were scarse able to Hue and paie
their rents at their dales without selling of a cow, or an horsse, or
more, although they paid but foure pounds at the vttermost by the
yeare. Such also was their pouertie, that if some one od farmer or
husbandman had beene at the alehouse, a thing greatlie vsed in those
dales, 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 in forced 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-oino- 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 haii-e 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 plainc seruitude and miserie, daily deuising new
meanes, and seeking vp all the old how to cut them shorter and

' The sidenote here is "This was in the time of general! idlenesse."

182 CONSCIENCE.

slioi'ter, doubling, trebling, and now & tlien seuen times increasing
their fines, driuing them also for euerie trifle to loose and forfeit their
tenures (by whome the greatest part of the realme dooth stand and is
maintained) 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 tlie lewes, 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,othing. 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, Bx sextante ;
tlrree, to wit JEx quadrante ; then to foure, to wit Ex triente ; then to
flue, 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 Gentesima, for that in the hundred moneth it
doubleth the principall ; but more of this elsewhere. See Cicero
against Verves, Demosthenes against Aphohus, and Athenceus lib. 13. in
fine : and when thou hast read them well, helpe I praie thee in
lawfull maner to hang vp such as take Centum pro cento,^ 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 greened to vnderstand of the
practise ; but most sorowfull of all to vnderstand that men of great
port and countenance are so farre from sufiering 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, leaning 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—

' " By the ypare " is the sideiiote.

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 hawtborne I suddenly espyed

a silly poore creature ragged & rent,

with bloody teares his face was besprent,
bis fleshe & his color consumed away,
& his garments they were all mire, mucke, & clay ;

w«'th 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 eursse my godfathers that gaue me the same."

this made me muse & much desire

to know what kind of man bee shold bee ;

I stept to him straight, and did him require
his name & his seoretts to shew vnto me.
his head he cast vp, & wooful was bee,

" my name," qwoth bee, " is the causer of my care,

& makes me scornd, & left here soe bare." — F.

As : I walked of late by one^ wood side, Asi walked

2 to god for to meditate was my entent, meditate,

where vnder a hawthorne I suddenly espyed j ^^^^

a silly poore creature ragged & rent ; a poor

' an. — P. * perhaps On God. — P.

184

CONSCIENCE.

ragged
creature

mired all

over.

He wished

himself dead,

his name
caused his
trouble.

With bloody teares his face was besprent,
his fleshe & his color consumed away ;

^ With turning & winding his bodye was toste,
& 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, " qwoth hee, " is the causer of my care,
& I cursse my godfathers that gaue me the same !

I asked him
to tell it me.

this made me muse, & much desire

to know what kind of man hee shold bee ; ^

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,**

[" My name," quoth hee, is the causer of my care,]

& makes me scornd, & left ^ here soe bare."

He said his
name was
Conscience.

When young

then straight- way he turnd him & prayd him^ sit
dow[ne]
20 " & I will," saithe he, " declare my whole greefe.

my name is called Conscience,"" wheratt he did
fro[wne]
he pined to repeate it, & grinded his teethe.

for while I was young & tender of yeeres,
24 I was entertained with Kwi^s ^ & with Peeres,

' This verse is redundant. — P.

^ To come in below. — P.

^ 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 m 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. — F.

* The verse

["my name " c\uot\i hee, " is the causer of

my care,"]
to come in here. — P.

^ The /is like an/ in the MS.— F.
« me.— P.

' Thoughe now silly wretche, I'm
deny'd all relief.
Yet . . . — Beliqucs.

* kinges. — Rel.

CONSCIENCE.

185

" there was none in all ' the court tJati lined in snch he was

„ honoured

tame ;

for With the lyings councell he sate ^ in Commission ;
Dukes Erles & Barrons esteemed of my name ;

& how that I lined there needs no repetition ;

I was euer holden in honest condition ;
for liowsoeuer the lawes went in Westminster hall,
when sentence was giuen, for me the wold^ call.

by Dukes

and in Law
Couris.

" noe Incombes "* 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 w/thout councell mine ; the poor,

I ruld the world with the right line ;
for nothing that was ^ passed betweene foe & freind,
but Conscience was called to bee at an ^ end.

Landlords
obej-ed him;

the world,

" noe Merchandize nor bargaines the Merchants wold and

merchants.

ma[ke],
40 but I was called a wittenesse therto ;

no vse ^ for noe mony, nor forfett wold take,
but I w^old controwle them if that they did soe ;
that makes me liue now in great woe,
44 for then came in pride, Sathans disciple,

that now is ^ entertaind with ^ all kind of people ;

Xo usury
was prac-
tised.

" Then came
in Pride,

he brought wtth him 3, wdiose names they be these,^*^ Covetous-
that is couetousnes, Lechery e, vsury,'^ beside; Lechery, and

48 they neue/' preuailed till they had'^ wrought my whoover-

threw me.

downe-iall.

' all omitted. — Rcl.

=* I sate.— P.

' they wold.— P.

■* Incomes. — P.

* (that was) seem redundant. — P.

« the.— P.

' interest. — F.

' is now. — Rel. " of. — P.

'» thus they call. — Bel.

" ' & 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.

'^ had omitted. — Rel.

186

CONSCIENCE.

I tried
abroad,

soe pride was entertained, but Conscience was
deride. 1

yet st[i]ll ^ abroad liaue ^ I tryed
to haue 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 "* court, the gallants to winn,

but the porter kept me out of the gates,
to Bartlwew ^ spittle, to pray for my sinnes,^
56 they bad^ me goe packe me ; it was fitt for my state ;
"goe, goe, threed-bare conscience, & seeke thee a
mate ! "
good Ijorcl ! long preserue my 'Kjlng, Pirince, & Queene,
With whom eue/' more I haue esteemed ^ beene !

Next I tried
London,
but they

sent me off
too.

60 " then went I to london, where once I did wonne,^

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, & hye me for shame,
64 they lought at my raggs, & there had good game ;

"this is old threed-bare Conscience thai 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 gs
patches to
cobble shoes.

" not one wold receiue me, the Jjorcl god doth know.

I, hauing but one poore pennye in my pursse,
of an aule ^^ & some patches I did it bestow ;

I thought better to '' cobble shooes then to doe worsse.

• perhaps decried. — P.
" now ever since. — Bel.

3 Only half the « in the MS.— F.

■* the omitted. — Rel.

* Bartlemew. — Rel.
" Sin.— P.

' me omitted in !»' ed?, restored in

2"^— Rel.

^ esteemed I've. — P. I ever esteemed
have. — Rel.

" perhaps dwell, {idem) — P. dwell.
Rel.
'» On an awl.— P.
" For I thought better. — Rel.

CONSCIENCE. 187

straight then all they ' Coblers they began to enrsse, but the

cobblors
wliiptmi
of the town.

& by statute the wold proue me ^ I was a rouge. & whiptmeout

forlor[ne,]

& they whipt ^ me out of towne to see "* where I was
borne.

" then did I remember & call to my minde

they coui't ^ of conscience where once I did sit, i tried the

Court of

76 not doubting but there some favor I shold find, Conscience,

for ^ my name & the place agreed soe fitt.
but therof my ^ purpose I fayled a whitt,
for the ® iudge did vse my name in euerye condic/on ^ but there the

Itiwyers

80 for Lawyers wc'th their qu[i]lletts '^ wold get a '^ wheedled me

dismission.

out.

" then Westminster hall was noe place for me ; Then i went

good god ! ^^ how the La^vj'ers began to assemblee ; sterHaii,

& fearfull they were lest there 1 shold be ! lawjers
84 the silly poore clarkes begaii to tremblee ; ^^

I showed them my cause, & did not dissemble.

soe then they gaue me some mony my charges to beare, gave me

butthey '^ swore me on a booke Imustneue/'come there. bu°t"mademe

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 ? ^^
we banisht thee the country beyond the salt sea,
& sett thee on shore in the new-found land,^^

) t,y,e. — P. '" The Lawyers — quillets.

2 (I was) delend.—V. " my.— Ed.

s And whipp.— i?t^. '^ lord.— i?e/.

4 seeke.— i^e/. '* tremble.— 7?^/.

* The court. — P. '* tliey omitted. — Rcl.
« Sith.— 7?eZ. •' Next.— i?e/.

' there of my. — P. sure of my. — Bel. '" fond. — Rel.

« MsA.—Rel. " lond.— P. land.— i?f^.

* For tho' — comission. — P.

188

CONSCIENCE.

92 & there thow & wee most freindly shook hands ; '
& we were verry ^ glad when thou did refuse rs,
for when we wold reape p7*offitt heere ^ thou wold ''
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^
96 to gentlemens houses of an ancyent name,

declaring my greeffes ; & there I made moane, [page 245]
& ^ how there '' forfathers had held me in fame,
& in letting of their ffarmes I alwayes vsed the same.^
100 the sayd, " fye vpon thee ! we may thee cursse !
they haue leases^ 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,"

" & then I was forced a begging to goe

to husbandsmens houses ; who greeved right sore,
104 who sware that their Landlords had plaged them so
sore '^
that they were not able to keepe open doore,
nor nothing the ^^ had left to giue to the pore,
therfore to this wood I doe repayre
108 with hepps & hawes ; that is my best fare.

" & yet w/thin this same desert some comfort I haue

of Mercy, of pittye, & of almes-deeds,
who haue vowed to company me to my '^ graue.
112 wee are ill '-^ put to silence, & Hue vpon weeds ; '^

our banishment is their vtter decay,

the w/*/ch the rich glutton will answer one day."

* bond.— P.

2 right. — Rel.

" proffitt heere omitted. — Bel.

* yvoldst.— Ed.

* on.— Bel.

« Telling.— i?t'/.
' their.— P.

^ And at letting their farmes how
ahva^'s I came. — Bel.

* their leases, i. e. the indulgent Leases
let by our forefathers. — P.

"> soe.— Bel.

" (the) redund««t. — P.

'- ?u/ in the MS. — P.

'^ ail.— iM

'* and hence such cold housekeeping
proceeds. ^i?p/.

CONSCIEN'CE.

189

'why then," I said to him, " methinkes it were best "Go to the
116 to goe to the Clergee ; for dealye ' the preach i. ^'

eche man to loue you aboue all the rest ;

of mercy & of Pittie & of almes they doe ^ teach."

"0," said he, "no matter of a pin what they doe it-dbeno

■I good ; their

preacn, wives and

120 for their wiues & their children soe hangs them vpon, their giving.
that whosoeuev giues a]mes deeds ^ they will ^ giue
none."

then Laid he him downe, & turned him away,

prayd ^ me to goe & leaue him to rest,
124 I told him I might happen to ^ see the day

to haue ^ him & his fellowes to Hue w/th the best ; Banish
^ " first," said hee, " you must banish pride, & then England

1 1 , Q will be blest.

all Jiingland were blest,^
& '"then those woldloue vs fhatnow sells ' ' their lands, '^
128 & then good houses eue/ye where wold be kept'^ out of
hand."

ffilis.

' daily.— P.

* doe omitted. — Rel.

* deeds omitted. — Eel.

* It oiipjht in justice and Truth to be

" CAX."_P.

^ And prayd. — Eel.

" haplie might yet. — Eel.

' Yor.-Ed.

* This line written as two in the MS.
-F.

" First sflid he, banish Pryde : Then
all England were blest. — P. These make
two lines in the MS. — F.

'" ¥ov.—Eel.

" sell— Eel.

'•■' bind.— P.

" house-keeping wold revive. — Eel.

190

Says Shakespeare's Henry V. :

You slaall 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, vnth 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.

J Fought Oct^ 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 01^ t]. — P. Edw«rd 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
4 that euer in Eno-land befFell.

Listen,

and I'll tell
you of a fair
battle.

for as it befell in Edward the S**' dayes,^
in England, where he ware the crowne,

then all the cheefe chiualry of England
they busked ^ & made them bowne ■* ;

^\^len Ed-
ward III.
was king,

all his
knights

they chosen all the best archers

thai in England might be found,
and all was to fight w/th the ^ing of ffrance
12 Within a litle stounde.^

went to fight
the French.

and when our K.ing was oner 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 ^
but shepards and Millers both,
20 & preists with shaueu crownes.

that no men
are left in
England

but millers
and priests.

then the K.ing of Scotts in a study stood,
as he was a man of great might ;

he sware ' he wold
London
if he cold ryde there right.'

The Scotch
king

hold his Varlsiment in leeue ^ swears he'u

ride to
London.

' ? MS. ; it may Le i/o. — F.
^ when Edw«nl the 3"? — P.
3 See P. 397, st. 46. (of MS.)— P.
■' bowne, paratus, L, — P.
^ Stound, signuni, momentum, spa-
tium, hora, tempus. Lye. — P.

« men.— P. See vol. i. p. 217, 1. 109.
— F.

' Leeve, perhaps the same as leef,
lief, leif, dear, beloved — A.-S. leofa, beJg.
lief. Teut. lieh, charus, amicus, gratus.
Gloss? to GawV Douglas.— P.

192

DURHAM FEILBE.

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 thai race !

" tlier beene bold yeomen in merry England,

liusbandmen stiife & strong ;
sliarpes swords tbey done weare,
32 bearen bowes & arrowes lonece."

for which
the King

kills him,

so no one else
dares say a
word.

tlie TLmg was angry e at tliat 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 hansrino' att a bouffhe,

[page 2-16]

James tells
the Earl of
Angus to
lead the van,

and promises
him North-
umberland. 4g

" the Earle of Anguish, • where art thou ?

in my coate armor ^ thou shalt bee,
and thou shalt lead the forward ^
44 thorrow the English countrye.

"take thy^ yorke," then sayd the K.ing,
" in stead wheras it doth stand ;

He make thy eldest sonne after thee
heyre of all Northumberland.

To the Earl
of Buohan he
promises

Derbyshire ;

" the Earle ^ of Vaughan,^ Avhere be yee ?

in my coate armor thou shalt bee ;
the high Peak & darbyshire
52 I giue it thee to thy fee."

' Earl of Angus. — P.

- Cote-Armour. A name applied to
the tabard by Chaucer and others.
Fairholt. — F.

^ vaward. — P. There is a t&a to the

(/ iu the MS.— F.

■* thee, i.e. to thee. — P.

* The I is made over an e. — F.

" It sho?dd be Baughan, i. e. Euchan.
—P.

DUKHAM FEILDE.

then came in famous Douglas,

saies, " wliat sliall my meede bee ?
& He lead tlie vawward,' Lord,
56 tliorow the English conntrye."

" take thee Worster," sayd the Kjing,

"Tuxburye,^ 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.

193

to Douglas,

Worcester ;

to Sir
Richard of
Edinburgh,

Bristol and
its shire ;

" my LorcZ Nevill, where beene yee ?

you must in this warres bee !
lie giue thee Shrewsburye," saies the K-ing,
68 " and Couentrye fairs & free.

" my Lore? of Hambleton, where art thou ?

thou art of my kin full nye ;
rie giue thee lincolne & Lincolneshire,
72 & thats enouge for thee."

by then came in William. Douglas

as breeme ^ 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 * betweene England & Scottland
80 I haue beene wounded & beaten sore ;

to Lord

Nevill,

Shrewsbury
and Coven-
try ;

to Lord
Hambleton,

Lincoln-
shire.

William
Douglas

iTminds the
King of his
long services,

' i. e. the Van, the Vanguard. Fr. avant-
guarde. L. — P.

2 qu. MS.— F.

' breme, ferox, atrox, cmel, sharp,
severe. Lye. — P.

VOL. II.

•• Marches, confinia, limitfs, alicujns
territorii : refer ad Mark Scotis.
March, a landmark, &e. Vid. Lye, ad
Jan.— P.

194

DURHAM FEILDE.

and asks
what his re-
ward is to be.

" for all the good service tJiai I liaue done,

wliat shall my meed bee ?
& I will lead the vanward

thorrow the English countrye."

" "Whatever

you ask,"

answers

James.

" Then I ask

for London."

" aske on, douglas," said the King,

" & granted it shall bee."
" why then, I aske litle London," saies Willmm
Douglas,

" gotten giff thai it bee."

James
refuses that,

the 'K:ing was wrath, and rose away,

saies, " nay, tliai cannot bee !
for that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber,
92 gotten if it bee ;

but gives
Douglas N.
Wales and
Cheshire,

" but take thee I^ortli wales & weschaster,

the cuntrye all round about,
& rewarded thou shalt bee,
96 of thai take thou noe doubt."

makes 100
new knights

and gives
them the
English
towns.

100

5 score 'knighis he made on a day,
& dubbd them wtth his hands ;

rewarded them right worthilye

With the townes in merry England.

They make
ready for
battle,

& when the fresh 'k.nighi^ they were made,

to battell the buske them bowne ; ^
lames Douglas went before,
104 & he thought to haue wonnen him shoone.

but the
English
Commons
meet theni,
and let none
escape ;

but the were mett in a morning of May

With the com7)zinaltye of litle England :
but there scaped neuer a man away
108 through the might of christes hand.

' See Page 397, st. 46 [of MS.].— P.

DURHAM FEILDE.

195

112

but all onely lames Douglas ;

in Durham in tlie ffeild
an arrow stroke him in the tliye.

fast flinge[s he] towards the K.inj.

the K.ing 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
Douglas,

who is
wounded
and flees to
the King.

"how now lames ? " then said the K-ing,

" how now, how may this bee ?
& where beene all thy nierrymen
120 That thou tooke hence With thee ? "

[page 247]

James asks
where his
men are.

"but cease, my Ki'«^," saies lames ^ Douglas,

" aliue is not left a man ! "
" now by my faith," saies the K-ing of scottes,
124 " that gate ^ was euill gone ;

" but He reuenge thy quarrell well,

& of that thou may be faine ;
for one Scott will beate 5 Englishmen
128 if the meeten them on the plaine."

" now hold joiir 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 euer the wirme the vanward,
136 there scapes noe man away."

All dead.
James vows

one Scot is a
match for
five English.

" No," says
Douglas,

" one Eng-
lishman is
worth five
Scots ;

they let no
one escape
alive."

' lanes in the MS. — F.

'' gate, via a way : march or walk. L3-e. — P.

196

DURHAM FEILUE.

A herald
reports to
James

" peace tliy talking," said the King,

" they bee but English knaues,
but shepards & Millers both,
140 & [mass] preists with their stanes."

the King sent forth one of his heralds of armes

to vew the Englishmen,
"be of good cheere," the herald said,

that he has

Ei'^giish 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 thai company e ;

for the Bishopp hath spred the Kings banner

& to battell he buskes him bowne,"
" I sweare by St. Andrewes bones," sales the King,
152 "He rapp thai preist on the crowne ! "

whom the
Bii!liop of
Durham

Lord Percy
in the field.

There, too,
are Loi'ds
York, Car-
lisle,

and two Fitz-
williams.

156

2'1 part<;

[Part II.]

"The King looked towards litle Durham,

& thai hee well beheld,
tJiai the Earle Percy was well armed,

W('th 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,
160 he cold not see them w^th his eye.

My Lord of yorke was one of them,
my lord of Carlile was the other ;
& my Lord flfluwilliams,
164 the one came wrth the other.

DUIMIAM FEILDE.

168

the Bishopp of Durham conii»auclccl his men,

& shortlye he them bade,
' iliai neuer a man shold goe to the feild to fight

till he had serued his g'od.'

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

wrth his battell axe in his hand ;
he said, " this day now I will fight
176 as Ions: as I can stand ! "

as does the
Bishop.

" & soe will I," sayd my Lo/v? of Carlile,

" in this faire morning gay ; "
"& soe will I," said my Jjord fiiuwilliams,
180 " for Mary, that myld may."

and the
Fitzwilliams
swear to
fight.

our English archers bent their bowes

shortlye and anon,
they shott ouer the Scottish Oast
184 & scantlye^ toucht a man.

Our archers
first

shoot too
hisrh.

" hold downe yo«r hands," sayd the Bishopp of Durham, The Bishop

orders them
to shoot low.

"my archers good & true."
the 2"? shoote that the shott,
188 full sore the Scottes itt rue.

the Bishopp of Dm^ham spoke on hye

tliat both partyes might heare,
" be of good cheere, my merrymen all,
192 the Scotts flyen, & changen there cheere ! "

They do,
and punish
the Scots,

' Durlian in MS.— F.

^ scant ly, 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
throngh the
nose,

' The 'King of Scotts in a studye stood

amongst his eompanye,
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,

there followed him a yeaman of merry England,

his name was lohn of Coplande :
"yeeld thee Traytor ! " saies Coplande then,
208 " thy liflfe 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 ? "

and strikes
at Copland,

the King smote angerly at Copland then,

angerly in that stonde ^ ;
& then Copland was a bold yeaman,
who floors 220 & bore the Ki7ir/ to the ground.

him, -^ ^

' Here a short leaf is inserted in the small one of most of his notes. — F.
MS. in a more modern hand, Percy's late ^ stound. — ? Percy,

upriglit hand, differing fi-om the early

DURHAM FEILDE.

199

he sett the K-ing upon a Palfrey,

himselfe upon a steede,
he tooke him by the bridle raj'ne,
224 towards London he can him Lead.

puts him on
a palfrey.

and takes
him to
London,

& when to London that he came,

the K-ing from flfrance was new come home,
& there unto the 'King 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
2.32 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 asks
James how
he likes his
millers and
priests.
"Thej^'re
the hardest
fighters I
ever met."

but now the Prince of merry England

worthilye under his Sheelde
hath taken the King of firance
240 at Poy tiers in the flfeelde.

the Prince did p?-esent his father \yith that food,^

the lonely King off flTrance,
& fforward of his lourney he is gone :
244 god send us all good chance !

The King of
France is
also taken
at Poictiers

by the Black
Prince,

248

" you are welcome, brothe/'S ! " sayd the King of Scotts, and both he
to the King of ffrance, Scotch King

" for I am come hither to soone ;
Christ leeve that I had taken my way

unto the court of Roome ! "

' feod or feodiir}'. — P. Person : see note ^ p. 456, vol. i. — F.

200

DURHAM FEILDE.

wish they
liad kept out
of England.

Durham

Field,

Cressy, and

Poictiers,

all won in a 256

month! "'

Then was

wealth

and mirth in

England,

and the King 260
loved the
yeomanry !

God save
him, and the
yeomen too ! 264

" & soe wold I," Scaid the King of ffrance,

"wlien I came over the streame,
that I had taken my lourney
252 unto lerusalem."

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]

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.^

' (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 Kint/ Estmere is much to
be lamented. It was, perhaps, the best
ballal in the Manuscript. I'ercy says
in the 2nd edition of the Rcliqucs,
p. 69, 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-wcre, 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
volume. Tlio 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.
Those 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 louked, ' looked,' and
wyfe, ' wiffe,' we must take the latter
part of Pei'cy'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
whoh' of King Estmere but also the first
22 (or more or less) stanzas of Guy and
Phillis, of which his version is printed
in the BeHques iii. 143, 4th ed., and
Child's Bidlads i. 63-6. I calculate
Percy's additions to Esfmei-e and the
lost part of (iiiy at 40 lines. —F.

201

[A fragment.]

[See the General Introduction to till the Guy Poems in Giq/ ^- Colchra'nde 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 miglit & strenght,^
whose like iii England neuer was
4 for hugnesse, botli for breadth & lenght ;

some of his bones in warwieke yett

Within the Castle there doth ^ 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 w/tich many people had opprest;

some of her bones in warwieke yett
there for a monument doth "* lye,
w/iv'ch vnto euery lookers veue
16 as wonderous strange they may espye,

another di'agon in this Land

in fight I alsoe did destroye,
who did bothe men & beasts opresse,
20 & all the countrye sore anoye ;

& then to warwieke came againe

like Pilgrim poore, & was not knowen ;
& there I lined 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,

and then
came back
to Warwick,

and lived a
hermifslife,

» Title written in by P.— F. ^ stremght in the MS.— F. ^ do.— P. ' do.— P.

202

GUY AND PIIILLIS.

in a cave
cut out of a
rock,

and

begged my
food at my
own castle
of my wife.

At last I fell
sick,

sent her a
ring,

and slie
closed my
dying eyes.

I died like a
palmer to
save my soul.

You may
see my
statue now.

where w^th my hands I hewed a house

out of a craggy rocke of stone,
& lined like a palmer poors
28 Within the cane my selfe alone ;

& daylye came to hegg my foode

of Phillis att my castle gate,
not knowing i to my loued wiffe,
32 who daylye moned for her mate ;

till att the last I fell soe sicke,

yea, sicke soe sore tJmt I must dye.
I sent to her a ring of gold
36 by w/w'ch shee knew me presentlye ;

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 dreadfuU death did me arrest,

to bring my corpes vnto the gTaue ;
& 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.

ffins.

' knowen. — P.

203

3o\)n : a : ^itie*

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 GcCfield. The ballad here
given for the first time is vitally the same with Jock o' the Side.
The persons are partly changed : Sybill o' tlie 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 Kichard
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 muir and myris
Ouir glide and guide.

.Tohn-a-Side
is taken,

and sent
prisoner to
Newcastle.

His mother,
Sjbill,

tells Lord
Mangerton.

PeETER a wMfeild ^ lie hatli slaine ;

& lolm a side, lie is tane ;
& lohn is bound both, hand & foote,

& to the I^ew-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,
& fast shee runn to Mancrerton.

the Lord was sett downe at his meate
when these tydings shee did him tell,
neuer a Morsell rai^ht he eate.

Lords and

Ladies

lament,

12 but lords the wrunge their fingars white,
Ladyes did pull themselues by the liaire,
crying " alas and weladay !

for lohn o the side wee shall neuer see more ^ !

and vow to 16 "but weele goe sell our drones of Kine,

lose their all

& after them our oxen sell.

or rescue
him.

& after them our troopes of sheepe,

but wee will loose him out of the N'ew-castell."

Hobby Noble
offers to
fetch .Tohn,
with five
men.

20 but then bespake him hobby noble,

& spoke these words Avonderous hye,
sayes " giue me 5 men to my selfe,
& He feitcli lohn o the side to thee."

[page 255]

' ? The first / may be i. — F.

-P.

JOHN

SIDE.

205

24 " yea, tlioust hauc 5, liobby noble,

of the best thai are in this countrye !
He giue thee 5000, hobby IS'oble,
that walks in Tyuidale trulye."

The lord
promises
5000;

28 " nay. He haue but 5," saies hobby Noble,
" that shall walke away w?'th mee ;
wee will ryde like noe men of warr ;
but like poore badgers' wee wilbe."

but Hobby
will only
have five,

dressed as
corn-dealers.

32 they stnffet vp all their baggs with, straw,
& their steeds barefoot must bee ;
" come on my bretheren," sayes hobby noble,
" come on yo?fr wayes, & goe w/th mee."

They start,

36 & when they came to Culerton ^ 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.

bnt at
Culerton
Ford find the
water up.

40 " but stand you still," sayes hobby noble,
" stand you still heere at this shore,
& I will ryde to yonder old man,
& see were the gate ^ it Lyes ore.

44 "but christ you saue, father," Q?(oth hee,
" crist both you saue and see !
where is the way oner this fiord ?
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.'* "

The old man
won't tell it.

corn-dealers, Fr. hiadicrs. — F.
Challertou, probably. — P.

' wav, ford. — F.
^ Tree, qu.— P.

206

JOHN : A : SIDE.

Hobby tells 52 " but fare tliou well, thou good old man
the'de°vfi! "^ the dovill in hell I leave w/th thee !

noe better comfort heere this night

thow gines 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 iforde,
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 fibote 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 lohn 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 ^ the tree,
vntill they came vpp to the top of the castle
where lohn made his moane trulye :

He takes
leave of his
mother
Sybill,

76 he sayd, " god be w/th thee, Sybill o the side !
my owne mother thou art," Quoth, hee,
" if thou knew this knight "^ I were here,
a woe woman then woldest thou bee !

MS. eaten through by ink. — F.

night.— P.

JOHN : A : SIDE.

207

80 "& fare you well, hord Mangerton !
& euer 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 midEdght
then eue>' 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 ^ 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,
sales, " sleepest thou, wakest thou, lohn o the side,
or art thou this castle within ? "

Hobby tells
him

100 '* But who is there," Q^ioth lohn oth side, [page 256]
" that knowes my name soe right & free ? "
" I am a bastard brother of thine ;

this niffht I am comen for to loose thee."

he has come
to free him.

104 " now nay, now nay," qitoth lohn othe side ;
"itt flTeares me sore that will not bee ;
ffor a pecke of gold & silver," lohn sayd,
" infaith this night will not loose mee."

I fear not,
says John ;

' man. — F.

208 .lOiiN : A : c^idk.

but Hobby 108 but tlicn bcspakc liiin liobbj Noblc,
& till bis brotlier tbus sayd bee,

says his four sajes, "4 sball take tliis matter in band,

and 2 sball tent our o-eldino-s fFree."

112 for 4 did breake one dore w/tbout,
They break tben lobn brake 5 bimsell ;

and get to but wlien tbey came to tbc Iron dore,

it smote 12 vpon tlie bell.

the iron one.

Much fears i\Q " itt ffeares me sore, sayd much tbe Miller,

they'Ube ,, i i, ,,

taken. '< fjiai beere taken wee all sbalbee.

" but goe away, bretberen," sayd lobn a side,
"for euer, alas ! tins will not bee."

Hobby 120 " but ffyc vpon tbee ! " sayd Hobby ]S"oble ;

reproaches

him, " Mucb tbe Miller ! fye vpon tbee !

" it sore feares me," said Hobby Noble,
" man that tbon wilt neuer bee."

124 but tben be bad fflanders files 2 or 3,

files down & bee fyled downe that Iron dore,

door, & tooke lobn out of tbe New-castle,

takes John „-,,,-,-,,-, i i jj

out, & sayd " looke tnou neuer come beere more !

128 wben bo bad liim ffortb of tbe Newcastle,
" away w/tb me, lobn, tbou sbalt ryde."
but euer alas ! itt cold not bee ;

for lobn cold neither sitt nor stryde.

waps sheets 132 jj^^^t tben be bad sheets 2 or 3,

round his

^^^^^' & bound lohns boults fast to his ffeete,

sett him on a well good steede,
himselfe on another by him seete.

and sets him ^ yett him on a well Q-ood steede,

on a horse •-

JOHN

SIDE.

209

136 then Hobby Noble smiled & louge,'

& spoke these words in mickle piyde,
" thou sitts see finely on thy geldinge
//tat, lohn, thou rydes like a bryde."

1 40 & when they came thorrow howbeajie towne,
lohns horsse there stumbled at a stone ; ^
" out & alas ! " cryed much the Miller,
" lohn, thoule make vs all be tane."

woman-
fashion.

Much the
Miller gets
into another
fright,

144 " but fye vpon thee! " sales Hobby Noble,
" much the Millar, fye on thee !
I know full well," sayes Hobby Noble,
" man tliai thou wilt neuer bee ! "

and is again
Fnubbed by
Hobby
Koble,

148 & when the came into howbeame wood,
he had flBanders files 2 or 3
to file lohns bolts beside his ffeete,
tlmi hee might r;^-de more easilye.

who files off
John's
chains from
his feet.

152 sayes lohn, " Now leape ovlCv a steede,"
& lohn then hee lope ouer 5 :
" I know well," sayes Hobby Noble,
" lohn, thy fiellow is not aliue ! "

Thereupon
John leaps
over five
horses,

156 then he brought him home to jMangerton ;
the Lo/yZ then he was att his meato ;
but when lohn 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,
til at euer thou wast man borne !
thou hast feitched vs home good lohn oth side
that was now cleane firom vs gone ! "

fEns.

Lord

Mangerton

blesses

Hobby

Noble.

loughe. — p.

^ stane. — P.

VOL. H.

210

iHis^mp m tin ^ovtlnt'

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,
P.^ ed.

Listen,

and I'll tell
all about it.

Listen, liuely lordings all,

& all that beene this place w/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 ;

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 -paj-t, [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 ^ ;
" I lieare a bird sing in my eare
16 thai I must either ffig'ht or fflee."

' A.D. 1569. N.B.— To correct this
by my other copy, which, seems more
modern. — P. The other copy in many

parts preferable to this. — Pencil note.

^ This lady was Anne, daughter of
Henry Somerset, E. of Worcester. — Eel.

EISINGE IN THE NOKTHE.

211

" god fforbidd," shee sayd, " good my lord,

that euer soe thai it shalbee !
but goe to London to the court,

& faire ffall truth & honestye ! "

She advises
Mm to go to
court.

" but nay, now nay, my Ladye gay,

tlmt euer it sliold 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 Jjord,

take men enowe w/tb thee ;
if any man will doe you WTonge,
28 yo?(r warrant tbey ^ may bee."

" but N'ay, Now N"ay, 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 w/'th thee ;
if any man will doe you ■v\Tonge,
36 joux borrow ^ 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 the Court, Ladye,
40 thou must me neuer see.

He still
refuses,

" but come hither, thou litle footpage,

come thou hither vnto mee,
for thou shalt goe a Message to Isiaster Norton
44 in all the hast thai euer may bee :

but sends a
page to ask

Master
Norton

' altered from them. — F. they. — P. fide jussor, vadimonium, piguns. A.-S.

^ Borrow, borow, borge. Sponsor, ras, borge, borJwe, Lye. — P.

212

mSINGE IN THE NORTHE.

to go with
him.

" comend rae to that gentleman ;

bring him here this letter from mee,
& say, ' I pray him Earnestlye

tJiat hee will ryde in my companye.' "

The page
hurries ofE

to Master
Norton,

but one while the foote page went,

another while he rann ;
vntill he came to M.aster Norton,
52 the fFoot page neuer blanne ; *

and gives
him the
letter.

& when he came to Master Nortton,

he kneeled on his knee,
& tooke the letter betwixt his hands,
56 & lett the gentleman it see.

Norton asks
his son
Kester

for advice.

Kester tells

him not to
draw back
from his
word.

& when the letter itt was reade

affore all his companye,
I-wis,2 if you wold know the truth,
60 there was many a weeping eye.

he said, " come hither, Kester ^ Nortton,

a ffine ffellow thou seemes to bee ;
some good councell, Kester Nortton,
64 this day doe thou giue to mee."

" marry. He giue you councell, ffather,

if youle take councell att me,
tJiat if you haue spoken the word, father,
68 that backe againe you doe not flee."

promises
him reward,

" god amercy, Christopher Nortton,

I say, god amercye !
if I doe Hue & scape with liffe,
72 well advanced shalt thou bee ;

' cessavit. — P.
* to wis, to know.
Johns. — P.

=* Kester, Christopher. Northern. Hal-
Germ, wissen, liwell's Glossary. — F.

EISINGE IN THE NORTHE.

213

" but come you hitlier, my 9 good sonnes,
in mens estate I tliinke you bee ;

how many of you, my cbildren deare,
on my -pai-t that Avilbe ? "

and asks his
own nine
sons

who will be
on his side.

but 8''' of tliem did answer soone,

& spake ffull hastilye,
sayes " we wilbe on yo?(r part, ifatber,
80 till the day thai we doe dye."

Eight vow

to be with
him to the
death.

" but god amercy, my children deare,

& euer I say godamercy !
& yett my blessing you shall haue,
84 whether-soeuer I Hue or dye.

[page 2.-8]

" but what sayst thou, thou ffrancis N'ortton,
mine eldest sonne & mine heyre trulye ?

some good councell, ffrancis N^ortton,
this day thou giue to me."

He asks his
eldest son,
Francis,

for advice ;

" but I will giue you councell, ffather,

if you will take councell att mee ;
for if you wold take my councell, father,
92 against the crowne you shold not bee."

and he
answers

Don't go
against the
Crown.

" but ffye vpon thee, ffrancis Noi-tton !

I say ffye vpon thee !
when thou was younge & tender of age
96 I made ffull much of thee."

Norton
reproaches
his son
Francis,

" but yo?a' head is white, ffather," he sayes,

" & jour beard is wonderous gray ;
itt were shame ffor yo?fr countrj-e
100 if you shold rise & flflee away."

214

KISINGE IN THE NORTHE.

and calls him
a coward.

"but fFye vpon thee, tliou coward fFrancis !

tliou neuer tookest thai of mee !
wlien thou was younge & tender of age
104 I raade too much of thee."

Francis
offers to go
unarmed,
but invokes
death on
traitors.

lOS

"but I will goe With you, father," Qtwih hee ;

" like a Naked man will I bee ;
he that strikes the first stroake against
crowne,

an ill death may hee dye ! "

the

Norton and
his men join
the Earls

at Wether-
by;

they have
13,000 men.

Westmore-
land's
standard is
the Dun
Bull,

Northum-
berland's the
half-moon.

but then rose vpp Master ITortton that 'Esqtiier,

with him a ffull great companye ;
& then the Erles they comen downe
112 to ryde in his companye.

att whethersbye the mustered their men

vpon a ffull fayre day ;
13000 there were scene
116 to stand in battel ray.'

the Erie of Westmoreland, he had in his ancyent^

the Dumb bull in sight most hye,
& 3 doggs with golden collers
120 were sett out royallye.

the Erie of Northumberlalid, he had in his
ancyent ^
the halfe moone in sight soe hye,
as the Jjord was crucifyed on the crosse,
124 & sett forthe pleasantlye.

' array. — P.

^ Ensign, standard. See vol. i. p. 304,
for the Dun Bull. That of Nevill
(Chevet, Co. York ; granted 1513), is "A
greyhound's head erased or, charged on
tile neck with a label of three points,
vert, between as many pellets, one and
two." The crest of Nevill (Ireland), is a
greyhound's head, erased argent, collared

gules, charged with a harp or. SurMs
Armorie. — ^F.

^ Burke gives the Percy (Duke of
Northumberland) badge as ' A crescent
argent within the horns, per pale, sable
and gules, charged "with a double
manacle, fesseways or.' Armorie, 1847.
— F.

EISINGE IN THE NOKTHE.

215

& after them did rise good Sir George Bowes,'

after tliem a spoyle to make ;
the Erles returned backe againe,
128 thought euer thai K.nighi to take.

Sir G. Bowes

rises behind
them.

They turn
back,

this Barron did take a Castle then,

was made of lime & stone ;
the vttennost walls were ese to be woon ;
132 the Erles haue woon them anon ;

take the
outer walls
of his castle

but tho they woone the vttermost walls

quickly and anon,
the innermust ^ walles the cold not winn,
136 the were made of a rocke of stone.

but newes itt came to leeue London

in all they speede that euer might bee ;
& word it came to our royall Queene
1 40 of all the rebells in the N'orth countrye.

but can't
win the
inner.

News of the
rebellion
reaches
London.

shee turned her grace then once about,
& like a royall Queene shee sware,^
sayes, " I will ordaine them such a breake-fast
144 as was not in the North this 1000 yeere! "

Elizabeth
swears she'll
give the
rebels a
bi'eakfast
they won't
stomach.

shee caused 30000 men to be made

with horsse and harneis all quicklye ;
& shee caused 30000 men to be made
148 to take the rebells in the North countrye.

She sends
30,000 men

against them

they tooke with them the false Erie of Warwicke, mider Lord

•' Warwick.

soe did they many^ another man ;
vntill they came to yorke Castle,
1 52 I- wis they neuer stinted nor blan.

They march
to York,

' Bowes. — P.
2 imermust in MS. — P.
' This is quite in character : her ma-
jesty wo\ild sometimes swear at her

nobles, as well as box their cars. Be-
liques, i. 255. — F.

' Only half the 7i in the MS._F.

216

RISINaE IN THE NOETHE.

but West-
moreland,

Northum-
berland,

and Norton
flee like
cowards.

156

" spread thy ancyent, Erie of Westmoreland !

The halfe moone ffaine wold wee see ! " [page 259]
but the halfe moone is fled & gone,

& the Dun bull vanished awaye ;
& firancis Nortton & his 8 sonnes

are ffled away most cowardlye.

Ladds With mony are counted men,
160 men without mony are counted none ;
but hold jour tounge ! why say you soe ?
men wilbe men when mony is gone.

ffins.

217

^cirtl)uml)erlantr : SSetraytr ftp : IBobtjIasi*'

[A Sequel to the preceding. — P.]

This ballad is printed in the Beliques (from another copy) and
elsewhere.

After the dispersion of their forces, the rebel Earls of
Westmoreland and Northumberland sought refuge in the
Borders. See Introduction to Eaii of Westmoreland, vol. i.
p. 294. Neville found his trust in the Borderers justified ; but
Percy was betrayed to the Eegent Moray by Hector Graham
(not Armstrong, as the ballad, v. 209, calls him) of HarlLW ;
whose name became thenceforward infamous, to take HectoT''s
cloke becoming a proverbial phrase for betraying a friend.
Moray's successor, the Earl of Morton, who during his exile in
England has received many kindnesses from Northumberland,
"sold his unhappy prisoner to Elizabeth," in May 1572. He
delivered him up to Lord Hunsdon, governor of Berwick, who
sent him to York, where he was executed.

The extradition of the refugee by Morton gave as deep dis-
satisfaction to the country at large as his betrayal by Hector of
Harlaw did to the Borderers. Many furious ballads made their
appearance, as — ' Ane exclamation maid in England upone the
delyverance of the Erie of Northumberlan furth of Lochlevin,
qi;ho immediattlie thairefter was execute in Yorke, 1572 ' — the
answer to the English ballad, ' Ane schort inveccyde maid agauis
the delyverance of the Erie of Northumberland.' The present

' Whose Sister being an eneliantress omitted here. — P.

would havesaved him, from her Brother's N.B. The other Copy begins with

treachery. — P. Lines the same as that in pag. 112.

This song seems unfinished. — P. [Ear/e of Westmorelande i. 300.] The

N.B. My other Copy is more correct minstrels often made such Changes.

than this, and contains much w/«'ch is — Pencil note.

218

NOKTHUMBERLANB BETItAYD BY DOWGLAS.

ballad so far recognises this national feeling as to introduce a
Scotch woman using her utmost endeavours to preserve the Earl,
from the snare laid for him. Mary Douglas' represents Scotia.
But the Earl will not listen. He goes away with her brother,
his keeper, to be the victim of a second betrayal, which was
finally to conduct him to the scaffold at York.

I'll tell you
how Douglas
betrayed
banished
Percy.

Now list & lithe you gentlemen,

& 1st tell you the veretye,
how they haue delt with a banished man,
4 driuen out of his countrye.

when as hee came on Scottish ground,

as woe & wonder be them amonge,
fFull much was there traitorye
8 the wrouarht the Erie of Northumberland.

At supper

they ask
Percy

when they wei-e att the supper sett,
beffore many goodly gentlemen

the ffell a ffiouting & Mocking both,
& said to the Erie of Northumberland,

to go to a

shooting in
Scotland.

"what makes you be soe sad, my Lord,

& in yo?tr mind soe sorrowffullye ?
in the North of Scottland to-morrow theres a shooting,
IG & thither thoust goe, my hord Percye.

" the buttes are sett, & the shooting is made,

& there is like to be great royaltye,
& I am sworne into my bill
20 thither to bring ray Lord Pearcy."

' " Tho interposal of the "Witch-lady
[1. 26, here] is probably his [the northern
bard's] own invention : yet even this
hath some countenance from history ; for
about 25 years before, the Lady Jane
Douglas, Lady Glamis, sister of the earl

of Angus and nearly related to Douglas
of Loughleven, had suffered death for the
pretended crime of ■witchcraft ; who, it is
presumed, is tho lady alhided to in verse "
[101 here]. Eeliques, i. 258.— F,

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

219

" lie giue thee my Land,i Douglas," lie sayes,

& be the faith in my bodye,
if thai thou wilt ryde to the worlds end,

lie ryde in thy companye."

Percy pro-
mises to go
with
Douglas.

& then bespake the good Ladye, —

Marry a Douglas was her name, —
" you shall byde here, good English Lori
28 my brother is a traiterous man ;

" he is a traitor stout & stronge,

as 1st ^ tell you the veretye,
for he hath tane liuerance of the Erle,^
32 & into Ens:land he will liuor thee." •

Douglas

warns Percy
that her
brother is a
traitor

and will give
him up to
the English.

" now hold thy tounge, thou goodlye Ladye,

& let all this talking bee ;
ffor all the gold thais in Loug Leuen,"*
36 william wold not Liuor mee !

Percy de-
clares that
he trusts
Douglas.

"it wold breake truce betweene England & Scottland,

& freinds againe they wold neue;- bee
if he shold liuor a bani[s]ht ^ Erie
40 was driuen out of his owne country e."

"hold yowr tounge, my LorcZ," shee sayes,

" there is much ffalsehood them amonge ;
when you are dead, then they are done,
44 soone they will part them freinds againe.

Mary
Douglas

" if you will giue me any trust, my Lord,

He tell you how you best may bee ;
youst lett my brother ryde his wayes,
48 & tell those English Lords trulye

' hand. ReUqucs. — F.
2 I'll. See note 4, p. 20, vol. i.— F,
' pay " of the earl of Morton : " James
Douglas, Earl of Morton, elected regent

advises
Percy

to let
Douglas !
alone,

of Scotland, Nor. 24, 1572.
p. 251, 259.— F.

■• Lough Leven. — P.

* banisht.— P.

EcL vol. i.

220

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

and then
she'll see
him safe

" how thai you cannot w/tli them ryde
because you are in an He of the sea ^ ;

then, ere my Brother come againe,
to Edenborrow castle^ He carry thee,

into Lord

Hume's

hands.

" lie liuor you vnto the Ijord Hume,

& you know a trew Scothe LorcZ is hee,
for he hath lost both Land & goods
56 in ayding of jouv good bodye."

Percy says
that no
friend shall
suffer for
him again,

his old ad-
herents have

suffered
enough.

" marry ! I am woe ! woman," he sayes,
" thai any freind fares worse for mee ;
for where one saith 'it is a true tale,'
60 then' 2 will say it is a Lye.

" when I was att home in my [realme,]^

amonge my tennants all trulye,
in my time of losse, wherin my need stoode,
64 they came to ayd me honestlye ;

" therfore I left many a child ffatherlese,

& many a widdow to looke wanne ;
& therfore blame nothing, Ladye,
68 but the woefFull warres wA/ch I began."

[page 200]

Mary
Douglas
offers to
prove her
words.

Percy will

have nothing
to do with
her witch-
craft.

" If you will giue me noe trust, my Lo/yZ,

nor noe credence you will give mee,
& youle come hither to my right hand,
72 indeed, my Lord,^ He lett you see."

sales, " I neuer loued noe witchcraft,

nor neuer dealt wi'th treacherye,
but euermore held the hye way ;
76 alas ! thai may be seene by mee ! "

' i.e. Lake of Leven, which hath com-
munication with the sea. — Ed. i. 261.

" At that time in the hands of the
opposite faction. — Bel.

' Tliis line is partly pared away. — F.
* ? MS. Lorid, or Louf-rd ; or Lord,
with one stroke too many. — F.

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRATD BY DOWGLAS.

221

" if you will not come jour selfe, my Jjonl,
youle lett jotir chamberlaine goe with mee,

3 words that I may to him speake,

& soone he shall come asjaine to thee."

Mary
Douglas
shows the
chamberlain

when lames Swpiard came that Lady before,

shee let him. see thorrow the weme ^ of her ring
how many there was of English lords
84 to wayte there for his Master and him.

" but who beene yonder, my ^ good Ladye,

that walkes soe royallye on yonder greene ? "
" yonder is Jjord Hunsden,^ lamye," she saye ;
88 "alas ! heels doe you both tree* & teene ! "

" & who beene yonder, thou gay Ladye,

that walkes soe royallye him beside ? "
"yond is Sir wlUiava Drurye,^ lamy," shee sayd,
92 " & a keene CaptaiH hee is, and tryde."

through her
ring the liei's
in wait for
Percy :

Lord Huns-
den,

and Sir Wm.
Drurye,

" how many miles is itt, thou good Ladye,
betwixt yond English Lord and mee ? "
" marry, 3? 50 mile, lamy," shee sayd,
96 " & euen to seale ^ & by the sea :

(ISO miles
ofE,

" I neuer was on Enghsh ground,
nor neuer see itt with mine eye,
but as my witt & wisedome serues,
100 and as [the] booke it telleth mee.

" my mother, shee was a witch woman,

and part of itt shee learned mee ;
shee wold let me see out of Lough Leuen
104 what they dyd in London Cytye."

as her
mother's
witchcraft
tells her.)

' weme, the Scottish word for the
belly, i. e. womb. — P.

2 ny in MS.— F.

3 The Lord Warden of the East

Marches.— 7?e/. i. 263.

•* dre, dree, to suffer, endure. — P.
* Governor of Berwick. — Bd. i. 264.
" saile. — P.

222 NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

" but who is yond, thou good Layde,

thai comes yonder wt'th an Osterne ^ fface ? "
and Sir J. «' yonds S/r lohn fforster,^ lamye," shee sayd ;

108 " methinkes thou sholdest better know him
then I."
" Euen soe I doe, my goodlye Ladye,
& euer alas, soe woe am I ! "

The Cham- he pulled his hatt ouer his eves,

berlain ^ '' '

weeps, ] 12 &, lord, he wept soe tenderlye !

is gone to his M.aster againe,
& euen to tell him the veretye.

and tells \^q ig gone to his M.aster againe.

Lord Percy * ° '

that Mai-y '< ^ow hast thou beene with Marry, lamy," he sayd,

1J6 " Euen as thy tounge will tell to mee;
but if thou trust in any womans words,
thou must refraine good companye."

Mm tiT^^'^ " •'"* ^^ ^°® words, my Lord," he sayes,

Lorfi^'wait- ^^*^ " yonder the men slioe letts me See,
mg^to take how many English Lords there is

is wayting there for you & mee ;

Hunsdfif^ " yonder I see the Lort^ Hunsden,

124 & hee & you is of the S"! degree ;
his greatest a greater enemye, indeed, my Lord,

enemy. .

m England none haue yee,
Percy says " & I hauo beene in Lougrh Leven

that he's "

^'eS^sln'^'aii ^"^ *^^ ^^^^ P*^^"* ^^ these yeeres 3 :
yett had I neuer noe out-rake,^
nor good games thai I cold see ;

' Austerne, austere, fierce. L. austerus. raik. Iter longum, to raik home, ac-

Gloss. ad G.D. — P. celerato gradu domum abire ; hinc a

^ Warden of the Middle March. — Bd. Bake, homo dissolutus ; an out-raik, a

i. 264. _ _ Eiot, at large. Lye. See G.D. 224. 39.

^ rake raik, ambulare, expatiari. As — P.
Isl. reika. Eaik gradus citatus, a long

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

223

" & I am thus bidden to yonder shooting
132 by william Douglas all trulye ;

therfore speake neuer a word out of thy mouth
That thou thinkes wall hinder mee.^ [page 26I]

and he will
go to the
shooting
with
Douglas.

then he writhe the gold ring of his ffingar^
136 & gaue itt to thai Ladye gay;

sayes, " that was a legacy e left vnto mee
in Harley woods where I cold ^ bee."

He gives
Mary a gold

" then ffarewell hart, & farewell hand,
140 and ffarwell all good companye !
tliat woman shall neuer beare a sonne
shall know soe much of yo?fr priuitye.

She laments
over him.

" now hold thy tounge, Ladye," hee sayde,
144 " & make not all this dole for mee,

for I may well drinke, but 1st neuer eate,
till asraine in Lougfli Leuen I bee."

He says he
shall soon be
back,

148

152

he tooke his boate att the Lough Leuen

for to sayle now ouer the sea,
& he hath cast vpp a siluer wand,

saies "fare thou well, my good Ladye ! "
the Ladye looked ouer her left sholder ;

in a dead swoone there fell shee.

and gets into
the boat to
sail away.

Mary
Do ugl
swoons.

" goe backe againe, Douglas ! " he sayd,

" & I will goe in thy companye,
for sudden sicknesse yonder Lady has tane,
156 and euer, alas, shee will but dye !

Percy asks
her brother
to return,

as she will
die.

' Part cxA away by the binder.—
Percy gives the verse as :

Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend,
As to the Douglas I have hight :

•F. Betide me weale, betide me woe,

He ne'er shall find my promise light.
^ A.-S. wriian to twist: perf. wrd^
twisted.— F.
3 did.— F.

224

NORTHUMBEELAND BETEATD BY DOWGLAS.

160

" if ought come to yonder Ladye but good,
tlien blamed fore tliai I sliall bee,

because a banished man I am,

& driuen out of my owne countrye."

Douglas
refuses ;

theladiescan
look after his
sister.

" come on, come on, my Lord," lie sayes,

" & lett all such talking bee ;
theres Ladyes enow in Lough Leuen,
164 & for to cheers yonder gay Ladye."

Percy atks
that his
Chamberlain
may go back
with him.

" & you will not goe jotiv selfe, my lord,

you will lett my chamberlaine goe with mec ;
wee shall now take our boate againe,
168 & soone wee shall ouertake thee."

Douglas says

it's only his

sister's

tricks.

" come on, come on, my Lord," he sayes,

" & lett now all this talking bee !
ffor my sister is craftye enoughe
172 for to beguile thousands such as you & mee."

They sail 50
miles :

the Cham-
berlain asks
how far it is
to the
shooting.

Douglas
says

he'll never
see it.

When they had sayled ' 50 : myle,

now 50 mile vpon the sea,
hee had flForgotten a message thai hee
176 shold doe in lough Leuen trulye :

hee asked ' how ffarr it was to thai shooting.

thai wiUiaTa Douglas promised mee.'

now faire words makes fooles faine^ ;
180 & thai may be scene by thy Maste?' & thee ;
ffor you may happen think ^ itt soone enoughe
when-euer you that shooting see."

' There is no narigatle stream between
Lough-leven and the sea : hut a ballad-
maker is not obliged to understand Geo-
graphy.— i?e/. i. 266.

^ Belle promesse fol lie: Prov. Faire
promises oblige the fool ; or, are noo

better than fopperies ; (for the words fol
lie equivocate vnto folie.) Douces pro-
messes ohligcnt Ics fols : Prov. Faire
promises oblige fools ; or, (as our) faire
words make fools faine. — F.
' A Lancashire phrase. — F.

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

225

lamye pulled Lis hatt now ouer his browe ;
184 I wott the teares fell in his eye ;
& he is to his Waster againe,
& ffor to tell him the veretye :

" he sayes, fayre words makes fooles faine,
& that may be seene by you and mee,

ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughs
when-eue/' wee that shooting see."

tells Percy

Douglas's

words.

Percy says
Douglas

" hold vpp thy head, lamye," the Erie sayd,
192 & neuer lett thy hart fayle thee ;

he did itt but to proue thee with, was only

•^ trying his

& see how thow wold take w/th death trulye." courage.

when they had sayled other 50 mile, ^J",^"*?,

•' -^ miles sail,

196 other 50 mile vpon the sea,

Jjorcl Peercy called to him, himselfe, Percy asks
& sayd, "Douglas what wilt thou doe with whathe-u

f, do with him.

mee f

" looke that jour brydle be wight, my Lord,
200 that you may goe as a shipp att sea ;

looke that jour spurres be bright & sharpe,
that you may pricke her while sheele awaye."

Douglas tells
him to have
his bridle
and spurs
ready.

" what needeth this, Douglas," he sayth.
204 " that thou needest to ffloute mee ?
for I was counted a horsseman good
before that ener I mett with thee.

Percy asks
" why this
mockery ?

" A ffalse Hector hath my horsse ;
208 & euer an euill death may hee dye !
& willye Armestronge hath my spurres
& all the geere belongs to mee."

VOL. II. Q

[page 262] My horse

and spurs are
in others'
hands."

226

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

Aiier 150
miles' sail,

Percy is
landed and
betrayed on
English soil.

wlien the had sayled other 50 mile,
212 other 50 mile vpon the sea,

the landed low by Barwicke side ;

a deputed land ' Landed liord Percye.

ffin[s2].

> So in MS. Percy prints 'The
Douglas' in Eel. i. 268, and winds up
with an added stanza :

Then he at Yorke was doomde to dye,

It was, alas ! a sorrowful sight :
Thus they betrayed that noble earle,
Who ever was a gallant wight. — F.

^ s pared off by the binder. — F.

227

#U|)e : of : (iisiljonu : ^

[The fight between him and Robin Hood. — P, ]

This ballad was printed from the Folio in the Reliques, and
from the Reliques by Eitson, Child, and others.

" As for Guy of Gisborne," says Eitson, " the only further
memorial which has occurred concerning him is in an old
satirical piece by William Dunbar, a celebrated Scottish poet
of the fifteenth century, on one Schir Thomas Nory (MS.
Maitland, p. 3, MMS. More (1. 5. 10) where he is named along
with our hero, Adam Bell, and other worthies, it is conjectured
of a similar stamp, but whose merits have not, less fortunately,
come to the knowledge of posterity.

Was nevir Weild Robeine under beweh,
Nor yitt Roger of Clekkinslewch

So bauld a bairne as he ;
Gy of Gisborne, na AUane Bell,
Na Simones Sones of Qutrynsell

Off thocht war nevir slie.

Gisborne is a market town in the west riding of the county
of York, on the borders of Lancashire.

When stales beeene sheene, & shradds ^ full fayre, it is merry
& leeues both Large & longe, the forest in

itt is merrry walking' in the fayre fforrest
4 to hearc the small birds singe,^

' A very curious Old Song, much more ari/, 1593, HalHwell. Shradd is a twig,

ancient and perfect than the common either from " shred, to cut off the smaller

printed Ballads of Robin Hood. — P. branches of a tree," or " schrmjs. tlie clip-

^ Shale, a husk. The shales or pings of live fences." HalliwcU. — F.

stalkes of hempe. Hollyband's 2>/c^io«- ' songo. — P,

Q 2

228

GUYE OF GISBOKNE.

Bobin Hood
dreams that
two yeomen

beat laim.

tlie woodweete sang & wold not cease
amongst tlie leanes a lyne ; ^

r* * * * *

" ^& it is by 2 ^ wiglit yeomen,
by deare god that I meane :

"me tliouglit they did mee beate & binde,

& tooke my bow mee froe :
If I bee Robin a- line in tliis Lande,

He vows
revenge on

them, ] 2 lie be wrocken on both, them towe

and orders
his men to
go with him.

They all
start,

and soon see
one yeoman,

" sweeuens * are swift, Master," q?«oth lohn,

" as the wind that blowes ore a hill ;
fFor if itt be nener soe lowde this night,
16 to-morrow it may be still."

" buske^ yee, bowne yee, my merry men all !

ffor lohn shall goe w^'th mee ;
for He goe seeke yond wight yeomen
20 in greenwood Avhere the bee."

the cast ® on their gowne of greene ; ^

a shooting gone are they
vntill they came to the Merry greenwood
24 where they had gladdest bee ;

there were the ware of [a] wight yeoman j

his body Leaned to a tree,

' of lime : I would read ' so greene.' — P.

^ As the lines that follow are part of a
Speech of Kobin hood relating a dream:
there are certainly some lines wanting
and we can no where better fix the hiatus
than between the 2? & 3? lines of st. 2"? .
N.B. In my printed Copy of this song in
the Reliques, &c., Vol. I. I took the
Liberty to fill up some of these Lacunw,
&c., from Conjecture, &c.— P.

Percy also alters lines 6 7 and 8 :
his verses in the 1st edition are —

The woodweete sang, and wold not cese.
Sitting upon the spraye.

Soe lowde, he wakend Eobin Hood
In the greenwood where he lay.

Now by faye, said jollye Robin,
A sweaven I had this night ;

I dreamt me of tow mighty yemen
That fast with me can fight. — F.

^ of 2.— P.

■•i.e. dreams. — P.

^ i.e. get you ready. — P.

^ then inserted by Percy. — F.

' Two lines wanting at the beginning
of this St., if these 2 lines are not rather
to be added to the next St. — P.

GUYE OF GISBOENE.

229

a sword & a dagger lie wore by his side,
28 had beene many a mans bane,'

& he was cladd in his Capull ^ hyde,
topp, & tayle, and mayne.

" stand you still, Master," quoth, litle lohn,
32 " vnder this trusty tree,

& I will goe to yond wight yeoman
to know his meaning trulye."

clad in a
horse's hide.

Little John
tells Robin
to stop while
he asks who
the man is.

" a, lohn ! ^ by me thou setts noe store,
36 & thats a ffarley "* thinge ;

how offt send I my men befFore,
& tarry my-selfe behinde ? ^

Robin Hood
is angry at
John's
wanting to
keep him
back,

" it is noe cunning a knaue to ken,
40 & a man but heare him speake ;

& itt were not for bursting of my bowe,
lohn, I wold thy head breake."

but often words they breeden ball ; ^
44 thai parted Robin and lohn ;

lohn is gone to Barnsdale,

the gates '' he knoAves eche one.

and threat-
ens to lireak
Little John's
head.

This parts
them, and

Little John
goes to
Barnsdale,

& when hee came to Bamesdale,
48 great heauinesse there hee hadd

he fFound 2 of his own fellowes
were slaine both in a slade,^

where he
finds two
mates slain.

& Scarlett a ffoote flyinge was
52 ouer stockes and stone,

for the sheriffe with 7 score men
fast after him is gfone.

and Scarlett
flying

from the
Sheritf.

' Of many a man the bane. — P.

"- Horse.— P.

3 Ah ! John.— P.

■* wonderous. Lye. — P.

* meanw^g that he never did so. — P.
« bale.— P.

' passes, paths, ridings. — P. m Bel.

* i. e., a parting between 2 Woods. — P.

230

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

Little John
tries to shoot
the Sheriff, 56

'' yett one slioote He slaoote," sayes Litle lohn ;

" witli crist his miglit & Mayne
He make yond fellow that flyes soe fast

to be both glad & flfaine.

but his bow

breaks.

lohn bent vp a good veiwe ^ bow,^
60 & ifetteled ^ him to shoote :

the bow was made of a tender boughe,
& fell downe to his footee.*

[page 263]

" woe worth thee, wicked wood ! " sayd litle lohn,
64 " that ere then grew on a tree !

ffor ^ this day thoii art my bale,
my boote when thou shold bee ! "

and yet the
arrow kills

William a
Trent,

this shoote it was but looselye shott,
68 the arrowe flew in vaine,

& <5 it mett one of the SherifFes men :
Sfood williajD. a Trent was slaine.

(who'd
better have
been hung).

it had beene better ^ for a wiUiam Trent
72 to hange vpon a gallowe

then for to lye in the greenwoode
there slaine wz'th an arrowe.*

But Little
John is
taken.

& it is sayd, when men be mett,
(6 6 ^ can doe more then 3 :
& they haue tane ^^ litle lohn,
& bound him ffast to a tree.

' Query MS : the word is partly pared
away. — F.

^ Jolm bent up a good yew bow. — P.

^ prepared, addressed him, verbum
Salopiense. — P.

1 foote.— P.

^ iFor now. — P.

« or Yet.— P.

' as good. — P.

8 Altered in the Eeliques, 1st ed.
i. 81, to

To have been abed with sorrowe.
Than to be that day in the green wood
slade

To meet with Little Johns arrowe. — F.

9 Fyre.— i?e;.
'" insert now.—

-P.

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

231

"thou slialt be drawen by dale and downe," q?/,otli and the

, , , -mi Sheriff vows

the snerme/ heshaUbe

80 " & hanged hye on a hill."

" but thou may ffayle," qtwth litle lohn, 'i^°^J}'

" if itt be chi'ists owne wiU." jX!''"'''

let vs leaue talking of Litle lohn,
84 for hee is bound fast to a tree,
& talke of Guy & Robin hood

in they ^ green woode where they bee ;

Let us turn
to &uy and
Robin.

how these 2 yeomen together they mett

vnder the leaues of Lyne,^
to see what Marchandise they made

euen at that same time.

" good morrow, good fellow ! " q^toth Sir Guy ;
92 " good morrow, good ffellow ! " q?(oth hee ;

" methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand,
a good archer "* thou seems to bee.^

Guy greets
Robin

" I am wilfull •' of my way," q-i^oth Sir Guye,
96 " & of my morning tyde."

" He lead thee through the wood," qitoth. Robui,
" good ffellow, He be thy guide."

" I seeke an outlaw," q^toth Sir Guye,
100 " men call him Robin Hood ;

I had rather meet with him vpon a day ^
then 40 'i of golde."

and tells him
he seeks an
outlaw,
Robin Hood.

' These three words seem added by
some explainer. — P.

2 the.— P.

^ perhaps Lime ; tho' Line or Lyne is
more common in these old ballads. — P.

* An e has been added at the end. — F.
^ shoiddest bee. — P.

* probably the same as " wilsome,"
page 357 [of MS.] st. 6.— P.

' this day.— P.

232

GUYE OF GISBOENE.

Robin pro-
poses some
sport.

" if yon tow mett, itt wold he seene whether were
better
104 afore yee did part awaye ;
let vs some other pastime find,
good fiellow, I thee pray.^

No doubt, as
they go on,
they'll meet
Robin Hood.

" let VS some other mastery es make,
108 & wee will waike in the woods enen,

wee may chance ^ mee[t] with Robin Hoode
att some vnsett steven." ^

They make
pricks ready
to shoot at.

they cntt them downe the ^ summer shroggs *
1 1 2 which grew both vnder a Bryar,^
& sett them 3 score rood in twinn^
to shoote the prickes fall neare.®

"leade on, good flfellow," sayd Sir Guye,
16 "lead^ on, I doe bidd thee."

"nay, by my faith," quoth Robin Hood,
"the leader thou shalt bee,"

' Percy alters this in his Beliqties, i.
81, 1st ed., to
>row come with me, thou wighty yemaii,

And Eobin thoii soon shalt see :
Bnt first let ns some pastime find

Under the greenwood tree.

2 to.— P.

3 See page 358, st. 16.— P. unfixed,
unexpected moment. There is a stroke
before the v of steven in the MS. — F.

^ two.— Eel.

^ scrog, a stunted shrub : Jamieson.
—P.

® pronounced Breer in some pffrts of
England. — P. Bryar is entered in
Levin's, 1570, under the words in eare.

' apart. — F.

" y-fere. — Eel. Threescore roods or
330 yards must have been a long range.
The Prickc-wandes were, I suppose,
willow wands or long thin branches stuck
in the ground to shoot at. Prickes seem

to have been the long-range targets,
bufts the near.

3Ioll. Oiit upon him, what a suiter
have I got ; I am sorry you are so bad
an Archer, sir.

Eare. "Why Bird, why Bird ?

Moll. Why, to shoote at Bids, when
you shou'd use 2}^"ick-skafts, short- shoot-
ing will loose ye the game, I as[sure]
you, sir.

Eare. Her minde ruunes sure upon

a Fletcher, or a Bowyer,

1633, Eowley. A Match at Midnight,
Act ii. sc. 1.

" Modern prick shooting is practised by
the Royal Archers at Edinburgh, and
is their favourite, at a small round target
fixed at 180 yards," says Mr. Peter Muir,
their Bowmaker. See vaj note on -pricks
in The Bahccs Boke #c. 1868, p. ci.— F.

' i. e. begin to shoot. — P.

GDYE OF GISBORNE.

233

the first good shoot tliat Rohm lecld,
1 20 did not shoote an inch the pricke ^ ffroe.
Guy was an archer good enoughe,
but he cold neere shoote soe.

Robin shoots

first,

an inch from

the prick,

the 2*? shoote ^ Str Guy shott,
124 he shott Within the garlande ;

but Robin hoode shott it better then hee,
for he clone the good pricke wande.

Guy next,
within the
garland.
Bo bin then
cleaves the
prick-wand.

" gods blessing on thy heart ! " sayes Guye,
128 " goode ffellow, thy shooting is goode ;
for on 3 thy hart be as good as thy hands,
thou were better then Robin Hood.

[page 264]

" Bless your
heart, you
shoot well,"
says Guy.

" tell me thy name, good ffellow," q?(oth Guy,
132 " vnder the leaues of Lyne."

" nay, by my faith," qtioth good Robin,
"till thou haue told me thine."

" Tell me
your name.'

" Not tm
you tell me
yours."

" I dwell by dale & downe," qttoth Guye,
136 " & I haue done many a curst turne ;
& he that calles me by my right name,
calles me Gxiye of good Gysborne."

" Mine is
Guye of
Gysborne."

" my dwelling is in the wood," sayes Robin ;
140 "by thee I set right nought ;

my name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale,
a ffellow thou has long: sought."

"And mine
Bobin Hood
of Barnes-
dale."

he that had neither beene a * kithe nor kin ^
144 might haue seene a full fayre sight,
to see how together these yeomen went
With blades both browne & bright ;

It was a
pretty sight
to see 'em
fight.

was not an Inch the prick. -
tkat inserted by P. — F.
an, or and. — P.

* a delend. — P.

^ neither acquaintance nor relation.
-P.

234

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

Neither
thinks of
flying.

to liaue seene how tliese yeomen together fongfht]
148 2 howers of a sumwiers clay :

itt was neither Guy nor Robin hood.
thai ffettled them to flye away.

But Eobin

stumbles,

and Guy-
hits Iiim.

Rohin was reacheles ^ on a roote,
152 & stumbled ^ at tliai tyde ;

& Guy was quicke & nimble wi'th-all,
& hitt him ore the left side.

Robin calls "ah, deere Lady ! " sayd. Robin hoode,

on the T J J »

Virgin, 156 " thou art both Mother & may !

I thinke it was neuer mans destinye
to dye before his day."

Robin thought on our Lady deere,
160 & soone leapt vp againe ;

& thus he came with an awkwarde ^ stroke ;
good Sir Guy hee has slayne.

he tooke S^'r Guys head by the hayre,

leaps up,

kills Sir
Guy,

sticks his

head on his d • i i • i • i

bow, 164 & sticked itt on his bowes end ;

" thou hast beene traytor all thy liflPe,
w/w'ch thing must haue an ende."

dashes his
face till no
one can
know him,

Robin pulled forth an Irish kniflfe,
168 & nicked Sir Guy in the fface,

tliat hee was neuer on ^ a woman borne
cold tell who Str Guye was :

sales, " lye there, lye there, good S/r Guye,
172 & With me be not wrothe ;

if thou haue had the worse stroakes at my hand,
thou shalt haue the better cloathe."

' i.e. careless. — P.
"^ he stumbled.— P.

perhaps backward. — P.
of woman. — P.

GDYE OF GISBORNE.

235

Robin did on ' his gowne of gi'eene,
176 [on] Sir Guje ^ hee did it tlirowe ;
& hee put on that Capull hyde
that cladd him topp ^ to toe.

" the ^ bowe, the ^ arrowes, & litle home,
180 & ^ With me now He beare ;
ffor now I will goe to Bamsdale,
to see how my men doe ffare."

Robin sett Gnyes horne to his mouth ;
184 a lowd blast in it he did blow.

that beheard the Sheriffe of Nottingham
as he leaned vnder a lowe ^ ;

" hearken ! hearken ! " sayd the Sheriffe,
188 "I heard noe tydings but good ;

for yonder I heare Sir Guyes horne bio we,
for he hath slaine Robin hoode :

" for yonder I heare Sir Guyes home blow,
192 itt blowes soe well in tyde,

for yonder comes that wighty yeoman
cladd in his capull hyde.

" come hither,^ thou good Sir Guy !
196 aske of mee what thou wilt haue ! "

"He none of thy gold," sayes Robin hood,
nor He none of itt haue * ;

" but now I haue slaine the Master,'' he sayd, [page 2G5]
200 let me goe strike the knaue ;
this is all the reward I aske,
nor noe other will I haue."

throws his
own green
coat on the
corpse,
puts on Sir
Guy's horse-
hide.

and takes
his horn,

and blows it,

The Sheriff
hears It,

thinks Guy-
has slain
Kobln Hood,

and promises
him what-
ever reward
he asks.
Kobln asks

leave to kill
Little John.

' off.— P.

2 On Sir Guy.— P.

^ from topp. — P.

* thy.— Bel.

^ and delend. — P.

" perhaps bowc. — P. hill, A.-S. Mcetv.

— F.

come hither [repeated]. — P.

Perhaps

None of it I will have

or
Nor nothing else 111 have.— P.

236

aUYE OF GISBORNE.

The Sheriff
grants it.

" tliou art a Madman," said tlae shiriffe,
204 " thou slioldest liaue had a knights ffee.
seeing thy asking beene ^ soe badd,
well sfranted it shall be."

Little John

knows

Robin's

voice,

and thinks

he shall be

freed.

but litle lohn heard his M-aster speake,
208 well he knew that was his steuen ^ ;

" now shall I be loset, ^" quoth litle lohn,
" with Christs might in heauen."

The Sherife
and his men
press on
them.

but Robin hee hyed him towards Litle lohn ;
212 hee thought hee wold loose him beliue.
the Sheriffe & all his eompanye
fast after him did driue.

Robin orders
them back,

" stand abacke ! stand abacke ! " sayd Robin ;
216 " why draw you mee soe neere ?
itt was neuer the vse in our countrye
ones shrift** another shold heere."

looses Little but Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffee,

John, and

gives him 220 & losed lohn hand & iFoote,

Guy's bow.

& gaue him Sir Gruyes bow in his hand,
& bade it be his boote.

Little John
prepares to
shoot. 224

^ but lohn tooke Guyes bow in his hand,
his arrowes were rawstye by the roote ;

the Sherriffe saw litle lolm draw a bow
& fifettle him to shoote ;

' hath been. — P.
^ i. e. voice. — P.
' loosed. — P.
'• i.e. confession. — P.
'' Then John he took Gnycs bowe in his
hand,

His boltes and arrowes eche one :
When the sheriffe saw Little John bend
his bow.

He fettled him to be gone. —Bel.

? is rau'sfye, 1. 224, rusty. EawJy is
rude; nnskiltnl. Halliwell. — F.

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

237

towards his lioixse in Nottingani
22S lie fflecl full fast away, —
& soe did all liis companye,
not one behind did stay, —

Thp ShcriH
takes to
flight,

but he cold neither soe fast goe,
232 nor away soe fast runn,'

but litle lohn Wii'th an arrow broade
did cleaue his heart in twinn.^

ffins.

but can't get
away from
Little John's
arrow,
which
cleaves his
heart.

' ryde. — Hel. put your inverted commas too, as if

* He shott him into the ' baeke '- you'd only altered the one word ' Lacke.'
syde.— i?e/. Too bad, Bishop! And to — F.

238

This ballad is to be found in Dryden's Miscellany Poems, in the
1727 Collection of Old Ballads, and elsewhere.

The subject is the well-known quarrel between the Earls of
Hereford and Norfolk,^ which finally resulted in their banish-
ment in 1 398. A full description of the Lists of Coventry (in
September, not August) is given by Hall.^ The ballad's account
of the origin of the quarrel is not quite fair. Hereford accused
Norfolk, not Norfolk Hereford, of treason. But the ballad goes
with the winning side. Vox populi mostly shouts in favour of
the successful. The cause pleases it that " pleases the gods.''

The ballad is evidently written by a practised ballad-writer,
some time about 1600 probably. But it may have been founded
on some older one. The subject is not likely to have lain
uncelebra-ted till late in Elizabeth's reign.

1 sing the J- OWE noble dukes of great renowne

noble Dukes, t^cit long had liued in ifame,

tliroug ffatall envye were cast downe
4 & brought to sudden bane :

Hereford the Duke of Hereford was the one,

a prudent prince & wise,
gainst whom such mallice there was showen,
8 which soone in fight did rise.

' In the printed CoUeefeon of old fashions before his time were his own

Ballads, 1727, Vol. i. p. 120. N. XV., fabrication, though adopted as genuine

and in Dryden's Misc. Vol. 5. 382. — P. by Gongh and Sharon Turner. PlancM,

^ Sec Shakspere's Eichard II. — F. Hist, qf Costume, p. 223. — F.

' Hall's descriptions of armour and

HEREFFORD AKD NORFOLKE.

239

the Duke of Norfolke most vntrue '

declared to tlie King,
" the duke of Hereford greatly grew

in hatred of eche thinge

aud Norfolk.

Norfolk de-
nounces
Hereford

which, by his grace was acted still

against both hye & lowe,
& how he had a traiteroiis will
16 his state to ouerthrowe."

to the King

the Duke of Hereford then in hast

was sent for to the Kinge,
& by his lords in order placet
20 examined in eche thinge ;

The King
sends for
Hereford,

has him
examined,

which, being guiltelesse of that crime

which was against him layd,
the duke of Norfolke at that time ^
24 these words vnto him sayd :

and he is
guiltless.

"how canst thou with a shamelesse face

deny a truth soe stout,
& there before his royall grace
28 soe falselye faced itt out ?

reproves him
for his
Bhameless-
ness.

" did not these treasons from thee passe

when wee together were,
how that the King vnworthye was
32 the royall crowne to weare ?

declarer
Hereford has
[page 2G(i] talked
treason,

" wherfore, my gracyous Lor(?s," q;(oth hee,

" & you, his Noble Peeres,
to whom I wish long liffe to bee,
36 with many happy yeeres,

' Only half the u in the MS,— F,

* MS. time.— F.

240

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

he is a
traitor.

" I doe pronounce before yon all
the duke of Hereford here,

a traytonr to our Noble Kinge,
as time shall show itt clere."

Hereford the Duke of HereflPord hearing thai,

in mind was greeved much,
& did returne this answer fflatt,
44 w/w'ch did Duke Norfolke tuche ;

hurls back
his accusa-
tion in his
face,

" the terme of Traytor, trothelessc Duke,

in scorne & deepe disdaine,
With flEatt deffyance to thy face ^
48 I doe returne againe !

and craves
leave to fight
Norfolk.

" & therfore, if it please yowr grace

to grant me grace," qwoth hee,
" to combatt with my know en ffoe
62 that hath accused mee,

" I doe not doubt but plainlye proue,

thai like a periured knight
hee hath most falslye sought my shame
56 against all truth & right."

The King

grants it,
and fixes
Coventry as
the place.

the 'King did grant their iust request,

& did therto agree,
att Couentry in August next
60 this combatt fouerht shold bee.

The Dulcea

appear

armed,

the Dukes in barbed steeds full stout,

in coates of Steele most bright,
with speares in brest did enter list,
64 the combatt feirce to fflgrht

' There is a stroke between the c and e in the MS. — F.

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

241

the K-ing then cast his warder do'WTie,

conuHanding them to stay ;
& wtth his Lords soine councell tooke
68 to stint that Mortall fFraye.

att lenght vnto the Xoble Duke[s]

the ^ing of Heralds came,
& vnto them w/th loftye speech
72 this sentence did proclaime :

" With Henery Bullenbrooke this day,

the Duke of Hereford here,
& Thomas Mawbray, Norfolkes Duke,
76 soe valyant did apeare,

" & haue in honourable sorte

repayred to this place,
our noble 'King for specyall cause
80 hath altered thus the case :

" ffirst, Henery Duke of Hereford,

Ere 15 dayes were past
shall part this realme, on pajme of death,
84 while 10 yeeres space doth last.

" & Thomas, duke of N^orfolke, thou

that hast begun this striflfe, —
& therfore noe good prone can bring,
88 I say, — for terme of liffe,

" by iudgment of our souerraine Jjorcl

w7w"ch now in place doth stand,
for euermore I banish thee
92 out off thy Natiue Land,

but the King
stops tlie
combat,

and a Herald

proclaims
his judg-
ment.

is banished
for ten
years ;

Norfolk

for life ;

VOL. 11.

" charging thee on payne of death,

when 15 dayes are past,
thou neuer treade on English ground

soc long as liffe doth last."

and both
must go in
fifteen days.

242

HEREFFOED AND NOEFOLKE.

Each swears

not to go
■where the
other is.

thus were the sworne before the 'Kmg

ere they did farther passe,
the one shold nener come in place
100 wheras the other was.

then both the dukes with heaiuy hart

were parted p?-esentlye,
the vncoth streames of froward chance
104 in forraine lands to trye.

[page 267]

Norfolk,
before
sailing off,

laments his
lot.

the duke of Norfolke cominge then
where [he] shold shipping take,
the bitter teares fell from his cheekes,
108 & thus his moane did make :

" May grief
burst my
heart !

" now let me sob & sigh my fill

ere I from hence depart,
that inward panges w/th speed may burst
112 my sore afflicted hart !

" accursed man, whose lothed liffe

is held soe much in scome,
whose companye ^ is cleane despised,
116 & left as one forlorne,

I bid adieu
to my loved
land.

" Now take thy leaue & last adew

of this thy country deare,
w/iich neuer more thou must behold,
120 nor yett approache itt neere !

Would I were
dead, that I
might be
buried here.

" how happy shold I count my selfe,

if death my hart had torne,
thai I might haue my bones entombed
124 where I was bredd and borne ;

' In the MS. there is only one stroke for the n. — F.

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

243

128

"or thai by IS^eptunes rathfull rage,

I might be prest to dye,
while thai sweet Englands pleasant bankes

did stand before mine eye.

or that I
might die
now !

" how sweete a sent hath Englands ground

w^'thin my sences now !
how fayre vnto my outward sight
132 seemes euery branch & bo we !

How sweet
smells Eng-
land's
ground I

" the ffeeleds, the flowers, the trees & stones,

seeme such vnto my niinde,
thai in all other countreys sui^e,
136 the like I shall not ffinde.

There are no
such fields
abroad.

" oh thai the sun ^ his shining face
wold stay his steeds by strenght !
that this same day might streched bee
140 to 20 yeeres of lenght ;

Oh that this
night could

last twenty
years,

" & tliai they true performed tyde

their hasty course wold stay,
thai ^olus wold neuer yeeld
144 to bring me hence away !

" thai by the fountaine of mine eyes

the ffeldes might wattered bee,
thai I might graue my greevous plaints
148 vpon eclie springing tree !

and that I
could gi-ave
my plaints
on the trees !

" but time, I see, w<th Egles wings,

I see, doth flee away,
& dusty clouds begin to dimm
152 the brightnesse of the day ;

But Time

flies,

' MS. or (hid the shiiuiiig. — F.

E -1

244

HEREFFOKD AND NOKFOLKE.

156

"the fiatall hower clrawetli on,
the winds & tydes agree ;

& now, sweet England, ouer soouc
I must depart from tliee !

the sailors
call me.

"the Marmers haue hoysed sayle,

& call to catch me in,
& in [my] woefuU hart doe ^ feele
160 my torments to begin.

Farewell,
Bweet Eng-
land,

"wherfore, farwell for euermore,

Sweet England, vnto thee !
& farewell all my freinds ^YJdch I
164 aocaine shall neuer see !

I kiss thy
soil

to show how
I loved
thee."

" & England, heere I kisse the ground

vpon my bended knee,
herby to shew to all they world
168 how deere I loued thee,"

and dies in
Venice.

this being ^ sayd, away he went

As foi-tune did him guide ;
and att the lenght, w/th greefe of hart,
172 in Venis^ there he dyed.

[page -268]

Norfolk

lives in
France,

is promoted.

176

the other duke in dolefull sort
did lead his liffe in ffrauce,

& at the last the mightye Lord
did him ffull hiye advance.

recalled to
England

while

Eichard II,
wars in
Ireland,

the Lords of England afterwards

did send, for him againe,
while tliat 'King Richard * in the warres
180 in Ireland did remaine ;

■■^ A cle follows in the MS., but is
crossed out, — Y.

3 or Veins, MS.— F.

* The d has a curl like s to it.

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

245

184

wtio thro • the vile and gi'eat abuse
which through his deeds did springe,

deposed was, & then the duke
was truly crowned Kinge.

ffins.

and is

crowned

King.

' MS. tlio. "The vile and great
abuse" is dwelt on in the curious in-
complete alliterative poem on the Depo-
sition of Richard II., edited by Mr.
Thomas Wright for the Camden Society
in 1838 from the Cambridge MS. LI.
4. 14. Take, among other passages, lines
88-106, pp. 4, 5:

Now, Richard the redeles, reweth on
30U self,
That lawelesse leddyn joure lyf and

joure peple bothe ;
Ffor thoru the -wyles and wTonge and

wast in ^oure tyme,
je were lyghtlich y-lyste ffrom that 30U

leef thou^te.
And fifrom ^oure willffull werkis, 3oure

will was chaungid.
And rafte was joure riott, and rest, fFor

30ure daie^
Weren wikkid thoru joure cursid coun-

ceill, 3oure karis weren newed,

And coveitise hath crasid joure croune

ffor evere.
Of a-legeaimce now lerneth a lesson

other tweyne
Wherby it standith and stablithe moste,
By dride, or be dyntis, or domes untrewe,
Or by creaunce of coyne ffor castes of

gile ;
By pillynge of 30ure peple 30ure prynces

to plese,
Or that 30ure wylle were wrou3te, thou3

wisdom it nolde.
Or be tallage of 30ure townnes without

ony werre.
By rewthles routus that ryffled evere,
Be preysing of polaxis that no pete

hadde,
Or be dette ffor thi dees, deme as thu

ffyndist,
Or be ledinge of lawe with love well

y-temprid. — F.

246

This ballad is given in the Reliques '■' (with corrections ^) from
the Editor's ancient folio MS. collated with two printed copies
in black letter : one in the British Museum, the other in the
Pepys Collection. Its old title is ' A lamentable ballad of the
Lady's fall,' to the tune of ' In Peascod Time,' " (to which air
"Chevy Chace," as Mr. Chappell informs us, was sometimes sung).
There is also a copy of it in the Douce Collection. It appears in
the 1727 Collection of Old Ballads, and many later Collections.

It is evidently of very much the same date as The Children in
the Wood (which is certainly as old as 1595, as its name is
entered in the Stationers' Eegisters of that year), and may
possibly be by the same author. The same facility of language
and of rhime, the same power of pathos, the same extreme
simplicity characterise both ballads.

The story is who can say how old ? WTio was the first frail
woman? who the first false man? It touchingly illustrates
Groldsmith's pathetic lines :

When lovely "woman stoops to folly

And finds too late that men betraj',
"What charm can soothe her melancholy?

What art can wash her guilt away ?

The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover

And wring his bosom, is — to die.

The poor weak betrayed lady had looked in vain for the
fulfilment of her lover's promises :

' In y= printed Collect/on of Old Ballads, 1727, Vol. i. p. 244. N. xxxiv.— P.
* Noticed in the 4th edition only. — F.

LADYES FALL.

247

If any person she had spied

Come riding o'er the plain,
She thovxght it was her own true love ;

But all her hopes were vain.

She gives birth to a child,

And with one sigh which brake her heart
This gallant dame did die.

Then, at last, repentance is given to her lover, and his bosom is
wrung. He kills himself. And so the ballad ends with a word
of admonition and warning to " dainty damsels all."

MARKE : well my heauy dolefull tale,

you loyall louers all,
& heedfully beare in jour brest
4 a gallant Ladyes fall.

long was shea wooed ere shee was woone

to lead a wedded liffe,
but folly rought her ouerthrowe
8 before shee was a wiffe ;

to soone, alas ! she gaue consent,

& yeeleded to his vn\l,
the he protested to be true
12 & faithfull to her still.

shee felt her body altered quite,

her bright hue waxed pale,
her faire red cheekes changed color quite,*
16 her strenght began to fayle.

& soe ^ With many a sorrowffull sighe,

this bewtious Ladye Milde
with greened hart perceiued her selfe
20 to be ^ conceiued With chyld.

Hear the sad
tale of a
lady's fall :

Long was
she wooed,

but con-
sented too
soon.

Her shape
changed,

and she
found her-
self with
Cliild.

' Her lovelye cheeks chang'd color
white. — Eel. 1st ed. (only partly collated.
-F.)

2 Soe that— Eel.
* have. — Eel.

248

LADYES FALL.

She hid it
from ber
parents,

shee kept it from her parents sight
as close as close might bee,

& soe put on her silken gowne
none shold her swelling see.

but told her
lover.

vnto her loner secretly

her greefe shee did beTrray,
& walking -with him, hand in hand,
28 these words to him did say :

" behold," q»oth shee, " a Ladyes distresse

by lone brought to jour bowe ;
see how I goe with chyld vfiih. thee,
32 tho none thereof doth knowe !

prayed him
not to let
her babe be
a bastard,

" my litle babe springs in my wombe

to heare it ^ fathers voyce ;
o lett itt not be a bastard called,
36 sith I make thee my choyce ! ^

to remember
his promises,

" thinke on thy former p7-omises,
thy words & vowes eclie one !

remember with what bitter teares
to mee thou madest thy Moane !

and marry

her

or kill her.

" convay me to some secrett place,

& marry me with speede,
or with thy rapyer end my liflfe,
44 lest further shame proceede ! "

Her lover
makes ex-
cuses :

" alacke, my derest loue ! " qiioth hee,

" my greatest loy on earthe !
w7«'ch way shold I conuay you hence
48 to scape ^ a sudden death ?

' It preceded its as the geu, neuter of
he.~F. its.— Rel.

2 Eel. inserts four lines here. — F.
^ without. — Bel.

LADYES FALI,,

249

"yoztr freiuds are all of liye degree,

& I of meane estate ;
ffull hard itt is to gett you forthe
52 out of yo«r ffatliers gate."

[page 269]

liow can he
get her away
from her
home V

" di-ead not your liffe to saue yo?;r fame !

for if you taken bee,
my selfe will step betweene tlie sword
56 to take the harme of thee ;

She says

she will save
him from
harm,

" soe may you i scape dishonor quite.

if soe you '^ shold be slaine,
what cold they say, but that true loue
60 had wrought a Ladyes paine ^ ?

" but feare not any further harme ;

my selfe will soe devise,
I will safely e ryd^ w^'th thee
6 vnknowen of Morttall Eyes.

and will
come to him

disguised like some pretty page

He meete thee in the darke,
& all alone He come to thee
68 hard by my ffathers parke."

disguised as
a page.

" & there," q?(oth hee, " He meete my deere-

if god doe lend me liffe — -
on this day month without all fajle ;
72 He make thee then my wiflfe."

He agrees to
meet her
that day
month.

& with a sweet & louing kisse

they paj-ted presentlye,
& att their partinge brinish^ teares
76 stoode in eche others eye.

They kiss
and part.

' shall I.— i?e^.

2 ? I.— F. and if I.— Eel.

=> bane.— P. and Rel.

* ryde away.— i?e^.

* ? MS. ; perhaps it is lainish.-

250

LADYES FALL.

On the day

fixed

the lady is

ready,

but her lover
never comes.

She weeps,

reproaches
her false
lover,

att lenglit the wished day was come

wlierin * this louely Mayd
with longiBg eyes & strange attire
80 foi' her true louer ^ stayd.

if any person shee had spyed ^
came ryding ore the plaine,
shee thought ^ itt was her owne true lone ;
84 hut all her hopes was vaine !

then did shee weepe, & soer bewayle

her most vnhappy fate ;
then did shee speake these wofull words
88 when succourles shee sate :

" ffalse, fforswome, ffaithelesse man !

disloyall in thy lone !
hast thou fforgott thy promise past,
92 & wilt thou periured prooue ?

" & hast thou now fforsaken mee

in this my greate distresse,

to end my dayes in heauinesse ^

96 which well thou might ^ redresse ?

and wishes
she had
never
trusted him.

GrievingjShe
goes home,

" woe worth '' the time I did beleeue ^

that fflattering toung of thine !

wold god that I had neuer scene

100 the teares of thy false eyen ! "

soe that with many a grieuous groane ^

homewards shee went amaine.
noe rest came in her waterye eyes,
104 shee found ^'^ such priuy payne.

' On which.— 2?(7.

2 ? MS. loves.— F.

^ When any person she espyed.-

* hoped.— i?e/.

^ open shame. — Bel.

* thou mightst well. — Rel.

' he to ; A.-S. wcorthan, to become,
— F.
-Rel. * I e'er believ'd. — Rd.

^ sorrowful sigh. — Rel.
'» Mt.—Rel.

LADYES FALL.

251

108

in trauell strong slice fell thai night

with many a bitter thraw ^ : —
what woefull paines shee felt thai night ^
cloth eche good woman knowe ! —

is taken with

childbirth

pangs,

shee called vp her waiting mayds

who lay att her bedds feete,^
and musing at her great ^ woe
112 began full fast to weepe.

calls up her
maids.

"weepe nott," shee sayth, " but shutt the dores

& windowes all about ;
let none be^vray my wretched state,
116 but keepe all persons out ! "

" Mistrus ! call yo?ir mother here ;

of women you haue neede ;
& to some skilfull midwifFe helpe
120 the better may you sjDeed."

has tlie
doors shut,

and bids
them keep
out every
one.

The maids
urge her to

have a mid-
wife.

" call not my mother for thy liffe,

nor ffeitch noe woman here !
The midwiflfes helpe comes all to late ;
124 my death I doe not feare."

[page 270]

She refuses.

With thai the babe sprang from her wombe,

noe creature being by,^
& With one sighe w/ii'ch brake her hart
128 this gallant dame did dye.

gives birth
to a babe,

the litle louely infant younge,

the pretty smiHng babe,^
resigned itt new receiued berath
132 to him that had it made.

Her babe
dies too.

' throwe. — Eel.

2 then did iw\.—Bcl.

' A curl at the end like another e. — F.

•■ Who musing at her mistress. — Eel.

* nye. — Eel.

" The mother being dead. — Eel.

252

LADYES FALL.

Her lover
comes, and

kills himself.

next morning came her owne true lone

affrighted with this newes,
& he for sorrow slew himselfe,
136 whom eche one did accuse.

!Mother and
babe are
biivied
together.

the Mother w/th her new borne babe

were laide both in one graue ;
their parents, ouerworne ^ wt'th woe,
140 noe loy thai they ^ cold haiie.

Damsels!
ware flat-
tering
words I

144

take [heed] you dayntye damsells all ;

of fflattering words beware ;
& to the honor of jouv name

haue you a specyall care.^

' overcome. — Bel.

* joy thenceforth. — Bel.

* The Beiiques add :

ffins.

Too true, alas ! this story is,

As many one can tell.
By others harmes learne to be wise,

And you shall do full well.

253

In the late autumn of 1483, the nobles who had previously
determined to put an end to the usurpation of Eichard the
Third, and who had lately heard of the murder of the young
Princes, fixed on Henry of Eichmond for their king. About the
middle of October the Marquess of Dorset proclaimed him at
Exeter. Men declared for him in Wiltshire, in Kent, in
Berkshire. The Duke of Buckingham made a rising at Brecon.
But the conspiracy failed. Eichard w^as on the alert ; Henry
could not land ; the insurgents could not combine. From Brecon
the Duke " marched through the forest of Deane to the Severn ;
but the bridges were broken down, and the river was so swoln
that the fords had become impassable. He turned back to
Weobley, the seat of the lord Ferrers ; but the Welshmen who
had followed him disbanded ; and the news of their desertion
induced the other bodies of insurgents to provide for their own
safety. Thus the King triumphed without drawing the sword.
Weobley was narrowly watched on the one side by Sir Humphrey
Stafford, on the other by the clan of the Vaughans, who for
their reward had received a promise of the plunder of Brecon.
Morton effected his escape in disguise to the isle of Ely, and
thence passed to the coast of Flanders; the Ditlce, in a similar
dress, reached the hut of Banister, one of his servants in
Shropshire, tvhere he ivas betrayed by the perfidy of his host. If
he hoped for pardon on the merit of his former services, he had

' There is another Song on this Siilijcct in ;'//e printed Collect /on I'i".'" 1738,
Vol. 3'? p. B8. N. .5.— P.

254 BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTEE.

mistaken the character of Kichard. That prince had already
reached Salisbury with his army ; he refused to see the prisoner,
and ordered his head to be immediately struck off in the market-
place." (Lingard).

There is another ballad on this same subject given in the
Collection of Old Ballads, vol. iii. 1727, entitled "The Life
and Death of the Grreat Duke of Buckingham, who came to an
untimely End, for consenting to the deposing of the two gallant
young Princes, King Edward the Fourth's children. To the
tune of Shore's Wife." In point of style this is of much the
same date with that here given from the Folio. It is the pro-
duction of a thorough-bred ballad-writer, viz. Robert Johnson,
and included in his Crown Garland of Golden Roses. It ad-
ministers political justice in the same uncompromising manner :

ThiTS Banister was forc'd to beg
And crave for Food with Cap and Leg ;
But none on him would Bread bestow,
That to his Master prov'd a Foe.

Thus wandring in this poor Estate,
Repenting his misdeeds too late.
Till starved he gave np his Breath,
By no man pitied at his Death.

To woful End his Children came,
Sore punish'd for their Father's shame ;
Within a channel one was drown'd
Where water scarce could hide the ground.

Another by the Powers divine
Was strangely eaten up of swine ;
The last a woful ending makes
By strangling in an empty Jakes.

A third ballad, entitled " A most sorrowful Song, setting forth
the miserable end of Banister, who betrayed the Duke of Buck-
ingham, his Lord and Master," is in the Pepys Collection, vol. i.
p. 64, and reprinted in Evans's Old Ballads, vol. iii. p. 23, 8vo,
1810. It bedns thus :—

BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER.

255

If ever wight had cause to rue
A wretched deed, vile and untrue,
Then Banister with shame may sing,
Who sold his life that loved him.

Perhaps all three ballads are founded on some common older
original.

lOU: Barons bold, ina[r]ke ^ and behold

the thinge thai I will rite ^ ;
a story sti'ange & yett most true
4 I purpose to Endite.^

A strange
true tale I
tell.

ffor the Noble Peere while he lined heere,

the dnke of Bnckingam,
he fflourisht in King Edwards time,

the 4"i' Kinsr of that name.

The Duke of
Buckingham

in his sei'vice there he kept a man

of meane & low degree,
whom he brought vp then of a chyld
12 from basenesse to dignity e ;

he gane him lands & linings good

wherto he was noe heyre,
& then ■* niached him to a gallant dame
16 as rich as shee was fayre.

it came to passe in tract of time

his wealth did soe excell,
his riches did snrpasse them all
20 that in that shire did dwell.

has a servant

whom he
enriches.

and marries
to a gallant
dame.

so that the
man is
very
wealthy ;

who was soe brane as Banister ?

or who durst w/th him contend ?
w7a'ch ^ wold not be desirous still
24 to be his daylye freind ?

none dares
strive with
Banister.

' mark. — P. ^ write. — P.

' Only half the n in the MS.— F.

* This and 19 other words in diiferent

places are marked in red brackets, for
omission. — P.
* who. — P.

256

BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER.

for then ' it came to passe ; more woe, alas !

for 2 sorrowes then began;
for why, the M-aster was constraind ^

to seeke succour of his raan.

Richard III.

murders •
the princes ;

Buckingham
raises a host
to avenge
them;

then Richard the 3*1 swaying the sword,

cryed himselfe a kinge,*
murthered 2 princes in their bedds,
32 w7i.^ch deede great striife did bringe.

& then the duke of Buckingam,

hating this bloody deede,
against the tyrant raysed an Oaste
36 of armed men indeed.

but his men
flee from
Richard's
army,

& when 'Kinrj Richard of this hard tell,

a mightye Ost he sent
against the duke of Buckingam,
40 his purpose to prevent.

& when the dukes people of this heard tell,

ffeare ffiUed their hearts eche one ;
many of his souldiers fledd by night,
44 and left him one by one.

in extreme need the Duke tooke a steede,^

& posted night and day

towards Banister his man,

48 in secrett there to stay.

" Banister, Sweet Banister !

pitty thow my cause," sayes hee,
" & hyde me from mine^ Enemyes
62 that here accuseth^ mee."

[page 271]

' Now it.— P.

* such.— P.

' The M"; was constrained to seek.
—P.

* Himself proclaimed king. — P.

* Part of the line pared off the MS.
— F.

•* One stroke too few in the MS. — F.

' persueth (in red ink : by Percy in
his late hand.— F.)

BUCKINGAM JiiyrUAYD BY BAM.STER.

" 0, yon be Avelcome, inj hard I " hce sajes,

" joiir grace is welcome here !
& as my lifFe He Iceepe you safe,

althouarh it cost me deere ! "

257

Banister

vows to keep
him safe.

" be true, sweete Banister ! " sayes hee,

sweete Banister, be true ! "
"christs curse," lie sayd, " on me & mine
60 if euer I proue ffalse to you !

then the Duke cast of his veluett sute,

his chaine of gold likwise,
& soe he did his veluett capp,
64 to blind the peoples eyes ;

•a lethern lerkyn ^ on his backe,

& lethern slopps ^ alsoe,
a heidging bill vpon his backe,
68 & soe into the woods did goe !

"Chrisfs
curse on
me it I be
false ! "

Buckingham
takes oil his
velvet
clothes,

dresses as a
woodman,

an old felt hat vppon his head,

with 20 holes therin ;
& soe in labor he spent the time,
72 as tho some drudge he had beene.

and works
away

& there he lined long vnknowen,

& still vnknowne might bee,
till Banister for hope of gaine
76 betray d him ludaslye.

in safet3\

for a proclamation there was made,

' whosoeuer then cold bringe
newes of the Duke of Buckingam
80 to Richard then our Kinge,

' Languedoc jhergaon, an over-coat;
Fr. Jargcot, Jargot, a kind of course
garment wome by countrey people. Cot-

VOL. U.

But Richard

grave ; in Wedgwood.— F.

^ slopps, A kind of open breeches,
trowsers. Johnson. — P.

258

EUCKIKGAM BETKAYD BY BAISISTEE.

offers 1000
marks

and kBight-
hood, for
news of
Bucking-
ham.

Banister
betraj's his
master.

' a 1000 markes slialbe liis fiee
of gold & silver bright,

& then be preferred by his grace,
& made a worthy knight.'

& when Banister of that heard tell,

straight to the court sent hee,
& soe betrayd his Master good
88 for lucre of thai ffee.

Buckingham
is seized.

a herald of amies there was sent,

& men w^'th weapons good,
who did attach this noble Duke
92 where he was labouruicr in the wood.

He re-
proaches
Banister,

" Ah, ffalse Banister ! a, wreched man !

Ah, Caitiffe ! " then sayes hee ;
" hane I maintained thy poore estate
96 to deale thus ludaslye ?

" alas thai euer I beleeued

thai fflattering tounge of thine !
woe worth the time thai euer I see
100 thai false Bodye of thine ! "

but is be-
headed at
Salisbury.

then ffraught wt'th feare & many a teare,

w/th sorrowes almost dead,
this noble Duke of Buckingam
104 att Salsbury ' lost his head.

is cast into
prison,

then Banister went to the court,

hoping this gold to haue,
but straight in prison hee was cast,
108 & hard his hffe to^ saue.

query Shrewsbury. — P.

^ hard his life could. — P.

BUCKINGAM BCTRAYD BY BANISTER.

259

112

small ffreinds he found in bis distresse,
nor any comfort in liis need,

but euery man reuiled bim

[for] tbis ' bis trecberous deede.

reviled by
all,

& tben, according to liis wisbe,

gods ludgments did on bim fall ;
bis cbildren were consumed quite,
1 16 bis goods were wasted all ;

[page 272]

ffor one of bis sones for greeffe Starke madd did fall ; ^

tbe otber ffor sorrow drowned was
w/tbin a shallow runing streame
120 where euery man might passe.

and Christ's
curse falls
on him :

one son
turns mad,
the other is
drowned.

liis daugter right of bewtye bright,

to such lewde liffe did ffall
that shee dyed in great miserye ;
124 & thus they were wasted all.

His daugh-
ter becomes
a strumpet.

Old Banister liued long in shame,

& att the lenght did dye ;
& thus they Lord did plague them all
128 ffor this his trecherye.

now god blesse our king & councell graue,^

in goodness still to proceed ;
& send euery * distressed man
132 a better ffreind att need ! ffins.

He lives in
shame and
dies.

God send

all in need
a better
friend I

" fortliis. Qu.— P.

2 stark mad did fall— P. This line is
made two in the MS. Starke begins
p. 272.— F.

3 Our k? G"? bless And grant his
grace. — P.
* to each. — P.

s 2

2G0

This ballad is printed in the Relique8,Yo\.ii. pp. 198-200, under
the title of " The Murder of the King of Scots." Percy's Intro-
duction, p. 1 97, is as follows : — " The catastrophe of Henry Stewart,
lord Darnley, the unfortunate husband of Mary Q. of Scots, is
the subject of this ballad. It is here related in that partial im-
perfect manner, in which such an event would naturally strike
the subjects of another kingdom ; of which he was a native.
Henry appears to have been a vain capricious worthless young
man, of weak understanding, and dissolute morals. But the
beauty of his person, and the inexperience of his youth, would
dispose mankind to treat him with an indulgence, which the
cruelty of his murder would afterwards convert into the most
tender pity and regret : and then imagination would not fail
to adorn his memory with all those virtues, he ought to have
possessed. This will account for the extravagant elogium be-
stowed upon him in the first stanza, &c.

" Henry lord Darnley, was eldest son of the earl of Lennox,
by the lady Margaret Douglas, niece of Henry VIII. and
daughter of Margaret queen of Scotland by the earl of Angus,
whom that princess married after the death of James IV. —
Darnley, who had been born and educated in England, was but
in his 21st year, when he was married, Feb. 9, 1567-8.
This crime was perpetrated by the E. of Bothwell, not out of
respect to the memory of David Eiccio, but in order to pave the
way for his own marriage with the queen.

> On the Murtlier of David Eiccio and of the kmg of Scotts. Written while the
Queen of Scotts was in England.— P.

EARLE LODWKLL.

261

" This ballad (priuted ' from the Editor's folio MS.) seems to
have been written soon after Mary's escape into England in
1568, see v. 65. — It will be remembered at v. 5, that this princess
was Q. dowager of France, having been first married to
Francis II, who died Dec. 4, 1560."

VV OE: worth tlieo, woe worth thee, false Scottlande

ffor thou hast eiier wrought b j a ^ sleight ;
for^ the worthycst Prince that euer was borne,
4 jou hanged vnder a cloud by night !

the queene of ffrance a letter wi'ote,

& sealed itt ^ w/th hart and ringe ;
& bade him come Scottland wi'thin,
8 & shee wold marry him ^ & crowne him 'King.

to be a i^ing, itt ^ is a pleasant thing ;

to bee ^ a Prince vnto a Peere ;
but you haue heard, & so haue I too,'^
1 2 a man may well by ^ gold to deere.

there Avas an Italyan in that place,

was as welbeloved as euer was hee ;
Liord David ^ was his name,
1 6 chamberlaine ^ vnto the Queene was hee.

ffor ^ if the King had risen forth ^ of his place,

he wold haue sitt^ him downe in the cheare,^''
& tho itt ^^ beseemed him not soe well.
20 altho the King had beene '^ present there.

' So in 2nd and 3rd editions too :
" printed witli a few corrections," 4th ed.
— F.

2 Rel. omits these. — F. 4th and 2nd
and 3rd editions restore too, 1. 11.

3 it.— 7iW. itt.— 4^A ed.

* he.— Bel. hee.—'ith id.

* buy.— P.

" And Dav'.' R'zzio — qu. David Elzzio.
—P.*

Woe to yon,
Scotland,
you've
hanged the
best of
Princes I

Queen Mary
bade him
come and
marry her ;

but .=he had
an insolent
Chamber-
lain, Rizzio,

' Lord Chnmberl? .—P.

8 from.— P.

^ sate.— i?'7.

'" i' th' chaire. — Bel. in the eheare. —
Wi ed.

" although it.— 7^^/. And tho itt.—
4/// ed.

'- And tho .... were.— P. Bd.
Althoutrh . . had biene. — ith ed.

* And David Riccio. — Rel. Lord David.— 4Wi ed.

262

EARLE BODWELL.

and some
Scotch lords

stabbed him. 24

some lords in Scottland waxed wonderous ^ wroth,
& quarrelld wi'tli liim for the nonce ^ :

I shall you tell ^ how itt befFell ;

12 daggers were in him all ^ att once.

The Queen
was wroth,

when this qneene see the ■* Chamberlaine was ' slaine,

for him her ^ cheeks shee did weete,
& made a vow for a 12 month & a day ^
28 the K-ing & shee "^ wold not come in one sheete.

and other
Lords

vowed to
kill the
King.

then some of the Lorc/s of Scottland ** waxed wrothe,

& made their vow ^ vehementlye,
' for death of the qneenes ^'^ Chamberlaine ^'
32 the K.irtg himselfe he shall dye.' ^^

they strowed his chamber ouer with gunpowder,^"'

& layd greene rushes in his way ;
ffor the traitors thought that ^^ night
36 the ^^ worthy king for to betray.^^

They set
fire to his
bedroom,

to bedd the worthy ^ing made '^ him bowne ; '^

to take his rest, that ^^ was his desire ;
he was noe sooner cast on sleepee,^''
40 but his chamber was on a biasing fyer.^'

he jnmped
out of
vvindow,

vp he lope, & a glasse ^^ window broke ;
he 23 had 30 foote for to ffall.

' Rel. omits these. — F.

^ ? MS. noncett, with tt blotted out. —
F. nonce. — Bel.

^ And I shall tell.— i?f/. 4^A cd.
omits And.

* the queen she saw her. — Bd. ^th
ed. omits she, and restores was.

« [her] fair.— P.

® year & a day. — P.

' shee'd ne'er. — P.

^ lords they. — Bel.

^ [vow] now. — P.

•» That for the death of the.— i?t7.
For the death of the queenes. — '^th ed.

" Queen's Lo. Ch" .— P.

'- How he, the ki«g himself sh^ dye.
— P. and. — Bel. The king himselfe
how he shall dye. — ith ed.

'^ with Gunpowd^ they strew"? his
room. — P.

'* very.— P. '^ this.— 7?e;.

'^ betraye. — Bd. betray. — Uh cd.

>' the k? he made —P.

" ready, paratus. Lye. — P.

'*' omitted. — Bel.

-" sleepe. — Bd.

"' it was all on fire. — P.

" andthe.— ffp/. " And.— P.

EAItLE BODWELL.

263

hovel Boclwell kept a priuy wach
44 vnderneath ^ his castle ^vall.

" who haue wee ^ heere ? " saycl hord Bodwell ;
" answer me, now I doe calL" ^

and was
caught by
Lord
Bothwell,

" 'King Henery the 8'.'^ my vnckle was ;
48 some pitty show for his sweet sake ! "*
" Ah, LorcZ Bodwell ! I know thee well ;
sorae pitty on me I pray thee take ! "

whom he
prayed for

" He ^ pitty thee as much," he sayd,
52 " & as much favor ^ He show to thee
As thou had on the Qiieenes Chamberlaine
thai day thou deemedst ^ him to dye.^ "

[page 273]

But Both-
well would
have none,

through halls & towers this ^ 'King they Ledd,
56 through castles & towers ^^ that were hye,^'
through an arbor into an orchard,

& there hanged him in a peare tree.'^

and hanged
him on a
pear-tree.

when the gouevnor of Scottland he '^ heard tell '^
60 that ^* the worthye king he ^^ was slaine,
he hath banished ^^ the Queene soe bitter lye
that in Scottland shee dare not remaine ;

The Go-
vernor
cursed Mary,

' all xmdK &c. — P. All underneath.
— Eel. Underneath his. — ith ed.

2 we. — Bel. wee. — 4th ed.

^ Now answer me that I may know.
—Eel.

* For his sweete sake some pitty
show. — Eel.

The next two lines Percy has altered
into

AVho have we here ? lord Bodwell sayd,
Now answer me when I doe speake. — P.

5 I'll.— i?c/.

^ favour. — Eel. favor. — ith ed.

' i.e. doomedst — deem, est opinari,
censere, judicare. Jun. — P. I. 51 is
partly pared off the MS.— P.

^ dye. — Eel. die, — with the note
" Pronounced after the northern manner
dee" in ed^. 2, 3, 4.

» the.— P.

"• thro' towers & castles, &c. — P.

" Dje.—Eel.

'- There on a pearetree hangd him
hye. — Eel.

" omitted.— Eel. >■• how that.— P.

'* He persued. — Eel. ? banish = ban,
curse. — P.

264

EAELE BODWELL.

and she fled
to England,

where she
now is.

but shee is ffled into Merry England,
64 & Scottland to aside hath laine ; ^

& through the Queene of Englands good ^ grace
now in England shee doth remaine.^

ffins.

' And here her residence hath tune.
■ — Bel. A change not for the better.
— F.

« omitted.— ^c/.

* In Engl^ now shee doth remain.
—P.

[Those readers (if any) who have looked
at the notes will have noticed that the
fourth edition of the Rdiqius lias restored
the reading of the MS. in several places
where the first has altered it, — though in
others it leaves the changes of the first
edition untouched : — thus in lines

First three editions. Fourth edition and MS.
6. it is changed into itt

15.

And David Kiccio ,

, Lord David

18.

i' th' chaire ,

, in the cheare

19.

Although it ,

, And tho itt

20.
23.

And though ,
And I

, Altho
, I

25.
25.

queene shee ,
slaine ,

, queene
, was slaine

29.

wroth ,

, wrothe

36.
44.

betraye ,
All underneath ,

, betray

, Underneath his

45.

we ,

, wee

61.

hee ,

, he

62.

favour ,

, favor

while in lines 31-32 the manuscript

" for death of the queenes Chamberlaine,
the King himselfe he shall dye,"

which Percy altered in his first edition to

That for the death of the chamberlaine,
How hee, the king himselfe sholde dye,

he changed back in the fourth to.

For the death of the queenes chamber-
laine.
The king himselfe, how he shall die."

I wi'ite he changed back, for Mr. Da^Hid
Laing says that a friend of Percy's and
his assured him that Percy himself
edited the fourth edition of the Ediques,
and that with great care, though he let
his nephew, in the Advertisement to that
edition, take the responsibility of it oflF
his own episcopal shoulders, supposed to
be burdened with "more important"
matters. It is, indeed, e%'ident that the
many changes made in the text of the
fourth edition must have been carefully
considered by Percy, for they are changes
of lines sometimes as well as of words.
-F.]

265

See Introduction to King James & Brown, vol. i. p. 135.

This piece is printed in the Reliques. " The original copy,"
says Percy, " (preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian
Society, London) is entitled, ' A new Ballad, declaring the great
treason conspired against the young King of Scots, and how one
Andrew Browne, an Englishman, which was the King's Chamber-
laine, prevented the same. To the tune of Milfield, or els to
Green-sleeves.' At the end is subjoined the name of the author
' W. Elderton.' ' Imprinted at London for Yarathe James,
dwelling in Newgate Market, over against Ch. Church,' in black-
letter folio."

It is the work of the professional ballad-writer who could
" rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and
sleeping- hours excepted " ; and it is well-executed work of its
sort. The image is fairly well shaped ; but there is scarcely a
spark of Heaven's fire in it — no breath of life breathed into its
nostrils.

It was written, no doubt, rather to give information than
entertainment. At a time when there were no newspapers cir-
culating through the country, the ballad was an ordinary vehicle
of news. "Marry, they say that the running stationers of
London, I mean such as use to sing ballads, and those that cry
malignant pamphlets, &c." (^Knaves are honest men, or More
Knaves yet, apud Collier's Book of Koxburghe Ballads.)

' N.B. This Copy is very imperfect. liqices, vol. ii. p. 204, first edition, is the

See Page 58 & 59 [of MS.], Stanza the " King of Scots and Andrew Browne."

last in that Page [vol. i. p. 141, 1. 108-9 The version there printed contains 15

of print], where the subject of this Lallad stanzas, while the present one has only

is alluded to. — P. The title in the lie- 10, and two of these are incomplete. — F.

VOL. II. T

266

BISHOPPE AND BROWNE.

How sad
that subjects
cau't be
true !

lESUS god ! what > greefFe is this

that Princes subiects cannot be true !
but still the devill & ^ some of his
4 doth play his p«rt, as plaine is in shew.^

In Scotland ra Scottland dwelles a bony king,

as proper a youth as any can bee ;
hee is giuen to euery happy "* thing
8 that can be in a Prince to see.^

King
James's
nurse heard
that he was
to be
poisoned.

She called
for help.

on whitsontyde, as itt befell,

a possett was made to giue the King ;
& that his Ladye Nurse heard tell

that itt was made a poysoned thing,
shee cryed, & called pittiouslye,
" helpe ! or else the King must dye ! "

Browne

sprang

forward,

leapt out of
a window.

& Browne being ^ an Englishman,
1 6 he did heare ^ that Ladyes pityous crye ;

but with his sword he besturred him then ;
forth att the dore he thought to fflee,

but euery dore was made full fast ;
20 forth of a window hee lope at last.*

met the
Bishop with
the

he mett the Bishopp att the dore,
& With the possett in his hand,
the sight of Browne made the Bishopp agast ;

' Out alas ! what a. — Eel.
« ha.th.— Bel.

^ Will play their parts, whatsoever
ensue .:
Forgetting what a grievous thing
It is to offend the anointed kinge?
Alas for woe, why should it be so,
This makes a sorrowful heigh ho.
—Eel.
The collation after this is not com-
plete.— F.

* The y is made over an h in the MS-
-F.

^ Eel. adds : —

Yet that uuluckie eountrie still
Hath people given to craftie will,
Alas for woe, &c.

•^ One Browne that was. — Eel.
' And hard. — Eel.

8 MS. at last lope hee.— F. Out of a
window he got at last. — Eel.

BISIIOPPE AND BROWNE.

267

•24 he bade him soe boldleye stay & stand.
With him were 2 that ran awaye
for feare lest browne shold make a fray.

" Bishopp," said Browne, " what hast thou there ?"
"nothing at all, my ffreinde,^" Q^ioth hee,

"but a possett to make the Eang good cheere."
"is itt soe ? " sayd Browne, " thai will I see ;

before thou goe any further inn,

of this possett thou shalt begin."

poisoned
posset,

"^8

" Browne," said the Bishopp, " I know thee well ;

thou art a yong man both pore & bare ;
& linings ^ of ^ thee I shall bestowe ;

goe thou thy way, & take noe care."
"noe ! " said Browne, " that shall not bee !
He not be a traitor for all christentye !

for be itt for wayle,"* or for woe be itt,

drinke thou off this sorrowfull possett."

the Bishopp dranke ; then by & by

his belly burst, & he ffell downe :
a iust reward for his traitorye.

" marry, this was a possett indeed ! " sayd Browne,
he searched the Bishopp, & found they Kayes
to goe to the King when he did please.

& when the Kinge heard tell of this,

he meekelye fell downe on his knee,
& thanked god tliat he did misse

then of this false trecherye ;
& then he did perceiue & know
that his clergye wold haue him betraid [so.^]

rejected his
bribes to be
quiet.

the Bishop
drink the
posset.
The Bishop
burst and
died.

King James

thanked

God,

' The last e is made over an s in the
MS.— F.

- Only half the n in the MS.— F.

' on. — Bel.

' i. e. sorrow : unless it be corruptly

■written for weal, welfare, good : written
by the Scots weil, wele. — P.

^ BeL inserts another stanza here,
and adds four after the next. — F.

T 2

268

BISHOPPE AND BROWNE.

rewarded
the nurse,

and knighted
Browne.

he called the nursse befor his grace,

& gaue vnto her 20*^*^ pounds [a yeere.]
doughty e Browne, [i'] the Hke case,
56 he dubbd him 'Knight with, gallant cheere,
bestowed vpon him liuings great
[For dooing sach a manly feat.i]

ffins.

' Last line cut away in the MS. ;
supplied here from the EcL, which adds :
As he did showe, to the bishop's woo,
Which made &c.

and then four more stanzas about a fresh
attempt to make away with the King.
— F.

269

This ballad was printed in the Reliques from the Folio, with a
few " corrections." These amount to the insertion of six new
lines, and numerous minor changes. The copy is indeed some-
AYhat mutilated, and needed a little patching to make it present-
able to the general reader.

" Several traditional versions," says Professor Child in his
English and Scotch Ballads, " have since been printed, of which
we give Burd Ellen from Jamieson's, and in the Appendix Lady
Margaret from Kinloch's Collection. Jamieson also furnishes a
fragment, and Buchan^ (Ballads of the North of Scotland, ii. 30)
a complete copy of another version of Burd Ellen ; and Chambers
{Scottish Ballads, 193) makes up an edition from all the copies,
which we mention here because he has taken some lines from a
manuscript supplied by Mr. Kinloch."

The love and fidelity of a woman are here tried to the utmost
limit. Worse sufferings than are even mentioned in the Nut-
broivn Maid, and in that feeble reflection of it, A Jigge, are here
verily endured. Certainly " Burd Ellen " is the better, more
expressive title for the ballad. She is the one centre of interest
in it — the one living glory and delight. Child Waters appears
but to introduce her — to " bring her out " — to furnish her with
an opportunity for displaying her splendid trust and adherence.
He must be regarded so, or he is intolerable. This part he
performs excellently. He brings Ellen's faithfulness into glorious

' A Tryal of female AflFection not ^ This Biiehan (whom I once en-

unlike the Nut-brown Maid. Shewing deavonred to assist in his poverty by

how child Waters made his M? undergo procuring purchasers for his books) was

many Hardships, & afterwrtrds married a most daring forger : scarcely anything

her. It was not necessary to correct that he has published can be trusted to as

this much for the Press. — P. genuine. — A. Dyce.

270 CHILDE WATERS.

relief. Let this and kindred ballads, then, be accepted as atone-
ments for the light doubting talk men sometimes hold about

women.

Be it true or wrong

These men among

On women do complaine

Affermyng this

How that it is

A labour spent in vaine

To love them wele

For never a dele

They love a man agayne.

For lete a man

Do what he can

Ther favour to attayne

Yet yf a newe

To them pursue

Ther furst trew lover than

Laboureth for nought

And from her thought

He is a bannisshed man.

I say not nay

But that all day

It is both writ & sayde

That woman's fayth

Is as who sayth '

All utterly decayed.

This and kindred ballads show how, in spite of many sad
scandals, in spite of suspicions and sneers, th"e* heart of men
still nursed and cherished a precious fond belief in the truth
of women. Much frivolity there might be,^ much hypocrisy,
much falseness ; but ever here and , there was one to be found
— one who, through good report and through evil, through all
extreme distresses and neglects and cruelties, would never with-
draw her trust from him to whom once she had given it — would
never falsify the vows she had once uttered — would never
fail from her true-love's side — una de multis face nuptiali

' See the ballad in the metre of the beginning,
Notbrowne Mayd in Mr. Skeat's Preface masteres anne,

to Partenay, p. ii, (E. E. T. Soe. 1866) I am your man. — F.

CHILDE WATERS.

271

digna. Such an one is Ellen in this ballad. She illustrates how
" many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown
it." She cares nothing for gold and fee ; had rather have one
kiss of her love's mouth or one twinkling of his eye than
" Cheshire and Lancashire both " ; will lay aside her woman's
dress, sacrifice her long yellow locks, endure strange hardships
— running barefoot through the broom and struggling through the
water — invoke generous blessings on the head of her supposed
rival, obey the most trying orders, that she may accompany and
please the master of her heart. Her love never hesitates. When,
after much ill usage, she gives birth to a child in the stable
whither she has gone in the early morning to feed the Child's
horse, she lets no murmur against the author of her miseries
escape her.

She said, " Liillaby, my own dear child,
Liillaby, dear child dear !

I would thy father were a king.
Thy mother laid on a bier."

In the end her trust wins its reward.

" Peace now," he said, " good fair Ellen,

And be of good cheer, I thee pray ;
And the bridal and the churching both

They shall be upon one day."

(jHILDE : watters in his stable stoode,

& stroaket his milke white steede :
to hira came a ffaire young Ladye
4 as ere did weare ^ womans wee[de ^ ;]

To Childe
Waters

comes fair
Ellen,

saies, " christ you saue, good Chyld waters !

sayes, " christ you saue and see !
my girdle of gold w/^i'ch was too longe

is now to short fFor mec ;

' ware. — P. ever ware. — Eel.

■-' weed. — P.

272

CHILDE WATERS.

" I am with
child by
you."

" & all is w^'tli one ^ cliyld of yours,

I ifeele stnrre att my side,
my gowne of greene, it is to strayght ;

before it was to wide."

"If so,

take

Cheshire and
Lancashire,

" if the child be mine,'^ faire Ellen," ho sayd,

" be mine, as yon tell mee,
take 3 yon Cheshire & Lancashire both,
16 take them jour owne to bee.

"if the child be mine, ffaire Ellen," he said,

" be mine, as you doe sweare,
take you Cheshire & Lancashire both.

and make

yourheir."' 20 & make f/iat child yo?;r heyrc."

" I'd rather
have a kiss

shee sales, " I had rather haue one kisse,

child waters, of thy mouth,
then I wold haue Chesliire & lancashire both,
24 that lyes "* by north & south.

and a look
from you,
than your
counties."

" & I had rather haue a twinkhng,

Child waters, of jour eye,^
then I wold haue Cheshire & Lancashire both,
28 to take them mine oune to bee ! "

He says
he must take
the fairest
lady north
■with him.

Ellen asks
to be his
footpage.

" to-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde

soe ffarr into ^ the North countrye ;
the ffairest Lady if 7; at I can ffind,

Ellen, must goe with mee." ^
" & euer I pray you. Child watters,

yo7ir ffootpage let me bee ! "

' a.— P.

■■^ Only one stroke for the m. — F.
mine. — P.

^ Then take.— i?e^.

* lye.— P.

•'* thine ee. — Eel.

* far into. — P.

' The Rdiqties inserts :

Though I am not that ladye fayre,

Yet let me go with thee. — F.

Tho' I am not that fayre Lady,

Yet let me go with thee. — P.

CHILDE WATERS.

273

" if yoTi will my ffootpage be, Ellen,
36 as you doe tell itt mee,

then you must cutt your gownne of greene
an inclie aboue yowr knee ;

"soe must you doe yo«r yellow lockes,

40 another inch ^ aboue your eye ;

you must tell noe man what is my name ;
my ffootpage then you shall bee."

all this ^ long day Child waters rode,

41 shee ran bare ffoote ^ by his side ;
yett was he neue;* soe curteous a K-niyht,

to say, " Ellen, will you ryde ? "

but all this day Child waters rode,
48 shee ran ■* barffoote thorow the broome !

yett he was ^ neuej- soe curteous a K.nighi
as to say, " put on jour shoone."

"ride softlye," shee said,*' " Child watters ;
52 why doe you ryde soe ffast ?

the child, which, is no mans but yours,^
my bodye itt will burst. ^ "

he sayes,^ "sees thou yonder ^^ water, Ellen,
56 that fflowes from banke to brim ? "

" I trust to god. Child waters," shee said,'^
"you will neuer '^ see mee swime."

but when shee came to the waters side,
60 shee sayled to the Chinne :

"except the •^ hord of heauen be my speed,
now must I ^* learne to swime."

He agrees,

if she'll cut
her gown

She runs
barefoot by
his side

all day thro'
the broom.

Ride softly,
she says.

He makes
her

* an inch. — P.

^ Shee all the. — Bel. and omits ' shee '
in the next lino. — F.

3 Shee all the long day (that) Ch.Wat.
rode, ran barefoot. — P.

^ She all the long dayCh. W. rode,
Kan.— P.

5 was he.— P. « 0.— P.

' thine.— P. « brast.— P.

9 Hee sayth.— i?e^. '» yond.— P.

" I trust in God Child Waters.
-Eel. '^ you'll never. — P. not. — P.
'3 but the.— P. Now the.— i?e^. and P.
" For I mnst.— Bel.

274

CHILDE "WATERS.

swim thro'
the water.

the salt waters bare vp Ellens ' clotlies ;
64 our Ladye bare vpp lie[r] chinne ;

& Child waters was a woe man,^ good hord,^
to ssee faire Ellen swime.

He shows
her

& when shee ouer the water was,
68 Shee then came to his knee :

he said, " come hither, ffaire Ellen,
loe yonder what I see !

[page 275]

a hall.

The fairest
girl there is
his bride,

his para-
mour.

Ellen

wishes him
and his bride
God speed.

" seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen ?
72 of redd gold shine the yates ^ ;

theres 24 ffayre ladyes,^

the ffairest is my wordlye make.**

" Seest thon not yonder hall, Ellen ?
76 of redd gold shine th the tower ;

there is ^ 24 ffaire Ladyes,*
the fairest is my paramoure."

" I doe see the hall now, Child waters,
80 that of redd gold shineth the yates. ^

god giue ^^ good then of yoMr selfe,
& of joioT wordlye make ^ ' !

" I doe see the hall now, Child waters,
84 that of redd gold shineth the tower,

god giue ^2 good then of jour selfe
and of jour paramoure ! "

' her.— Bel

^ i. e. a woeful man. — P.

' Ch. W, was a woe man good Lord.

* shines [the] gate. — P.

* Of twenty foure fayre ladyes there.
—Eel. of.— P.

" mate : so the rhyme seems to require,
but Make signifies also a Mate, match, or
equal, a familiar companion, from A.-S.

maca, gmiaca, par, socius, conjux. Vid.
.Tun. Gloss. Sax. Voc. — P. Bel. omits
' wordlye.' — F.

' There are .... there. — P.
* Bel. adds ' there.' — F.
» yate.— P.
'" [insert] you. — P.
" worthy mate. — P.
"^ [insert] you. — P.

CHILDE WATERS.

275

there were 24 Ladyes,^

were ^ playing at the ball ;

& Ellen was ^ the iFaii-est Ladye,''
must brings his steed to the stall.

She stables
his steed,

there were 24 faire Ladyes ^
92 was '^ playing att the Chesse ;

& Ellen shee was^ the fifairest Ladye,*
must bring his horsse to grasse.

& then bespake Child waters sister,
96 & ^ these were the words said shee ;

"you haue the prettyest fibotpage, brother,
that euer I saw ^^ with mine eye,

aud takes it
to grass.

asks that
Ills f ootpage

" but that his belly it is soe bigg,
100 his girdle goes i' wonderous hye ;
& euer I pray you. Child waters,

let him goe into the Chamber with mee.^^ " ™7^^°^°

104

108

'3 " it is more meete for a litle fFootpage
that has run through mosse and mire,

to take his supper vpon his knee
& sitt downe ^'* by the kitchin fyer,

then to goe into the chamber with any Ladye
that weares soe [rich] attyre.'-^ "

Childe
Waters says
the page had

better sup
by the
kitchen fire.

' ' were playing ' follows and is crossed
out. — F. There were 24 faire Ladies
there. — P. There twenty four ladyes
were. — Bel.

2 A.— Eel. A.— P.

3 that was, Qu.— P.

■■ the fayrest ladye there. — /'e/.
^ P. has written there at the end. —
F. Eel. omits ' were.'
« a.— P.

' that was, Qu. — P.
** the fayrest ladye there. — Eel.
" Eel. omits &.— F.
"> I did see.— P. I did see.— Eel.

" is.— P.

'- in my chamber lie. — P.

'^ Percy turns the last two lines into
another stanza, and prefixes it to the
first four : —

It is not fit for a little foot page

That has run through mosse aud
myre.

To lye in the chamber of any lady
That weares soe riche attyre.

' ' And lye.— i?e/.

'^ rich attyre, Qu. — P.

276

CHILDE WATERS.

He sends

Ellen

112

but when the had supped euery one,
to bedd they tooke they ' way ;

he sayd, " come hither, my litle footpage,
hearken what I doe say !

to hire a
prostitute
for him

anci carry
her up to
him.

116

" & goe thy downe into ^ yonder towne,

& low into the street ;
the ffarest Ladye that thou can find,

hyer her in mine armes to sleepe,
& take her vp in thine armes 2 ^

for filing-e ^ of her ffeete."

Ellen

hires the
woman

and carries
her up,

120

124

Ellen is gone into the towne,

& low into the streete :
the fairest Ladye thai shee cold find,

shee hyred in his armes to sleepe,
& tooke her in her armes 2

for filing of her ffeete.

and asks to
lie at his
bed-foot.

At daybreak

Childe
Waters
orders Ellen
to feed his
steed.

" I pray you now, good Child waters,

that I may creepe in att yo?*r bedds feete ; ^
for there is noe place about this house
128 where I may say ^ a sleepe."

^ this, & itt droue now aflPterward ®

till itt was neere the day :
he sayd, " rise vp, my litle fibote page,
132 & giue my steed corne & hay ;

& soe doe thou ^ the good blacke oates,

thai he may carry me the ^^ better away."

' their.— P. they = the.— F.
^ thee into. — P. thee downe
—Rel.

* twaine. — Bel.
■* i. e. for fear of defiling. — P.

* Let me lie at your feet. — P.
me lye at your feete. — Rd.

« Vide Liffe & Death. Pag, 384,
lin. 36 ; pag. 390, lin. 453 [of MS.]— P.
say = essay, try. — F.

into.

Let

' In the Beliques a stanza is made oi
the next two lines : —
He gave her leave, and faire Ellen

Down at his beds feet laye :
This done the nighte drove on a pace,

And when it was neare the daye. — F.

* This done, the night drove on apace.

" And give him nowe. — Rel.
'" To carry mee.— i?c^.

CHILDE WATERS.

277

And vp then rose ^ fFaire Ellen, [page ■2i(;}

136 & gaue ^ his steed corne & hay,

& soe shee did on ^ the good blacke oates,
thai he might carry him the better "* away.

shee layned ^ her backe to the Manger side,
140 & greiuouslye did groaue ; ^
& that beheard his mother deere,
and ^ heard her make her moane.

She does it,

but groan;!,
for her pains
come on.
Childe
Waters's
motlier

144

148

shee said, " rise vp, thou Child waters !

I thinke thou art a ^ cursed man ;
for yonder is a ghost in thy ^ stable

that greiuouslye doth groane,
or else some woman laboures of '° child,

shee is soe woe begone ! "

but vp then rose Child waters,^'

& did on his shirt of silke ;
then he put on his ^^ other clothes
152 on his body as white as milke.

& when he came to the stable dore,

full still that hee did ^^ stand,
that hee might heare now faire Ellen,
156 how shee made her monand'^ :

shee said, " lullaby e, my *^ owne deere child !

lullabye, deere child, deere !

I wold thy father were a king,

160 thy mother layd on a beere !

tells him to
get up,

there's a
ghost in his
stable,

or a woman
in labour.

He dresses,

goes to the
stable.

and hears
Ellen

sing to her
child :

would that
his fathor
were a king,
she dead !

' [insert] the. — P. ^ to give. — P.

^ Eel. omits on. — F.

^ to carry him th' bet. — P.

^ leaned. — P.

" The lieliques inserts and alters thus :
She leaned her back to the manger side

And there shee made her moane,
And that beheard his mother deare,

Shee heard her ' woeftil woe ; '
Shee sayd. Rise up, thou Childe Waters,

And into thy stable goe. — P.

' she.— P.

" thee a. — P.

° the.— P.
'» with.— ^e^,

" 'soon' is written at the end by P.
— F. ^

'■' and so he did his. — P.
'^ there did he. — P.
'* monand, is moaning, i. c. moan. Lye.

'* mine. — Bel.

278

CHILDE WATERS.

Childe

"Waters
promises

to marry
her.

164

"peace now," he said, " good faire Ellen !

& be of good cheere, I thee pray ;
& the Bridall, & the churching both,

they ' shall bee vpon one day."^

ffins.

' Bel. omits they.— F.

2 In the admiration bestowed on fair
Ellen, Enid, and patient Grisild, it is
doubtful whether disgust and indignation
at their friends' conduct have been suf-

ficiently expressed or felt. Anything
more deliberately brutal, I find it hard
to conceive. "Cursed man" is surely
an epithet well deserved here. — F.

Perhaps the most poetical and finest
version of this poem is to be fouaid in
Biirger's melodious German ballad, en-
titled Graf Walter, which he professes to
have made oiach clem Alt-englischen, and
which follows Percy's edition pretty
closely. He has made it into a very
pleasing poem, having paraplirased it
after his own fashion with great artistic
skill.

Biirger concludes thus :

" Sammt deinem Vater schreibe Gott
Dicli in sein Segensbuch !
Werd' ihm und dir ein Purpurkleid,
Und mir ein Leiclientuch ! "

" O nun, nun, siiss, siisse Maid,
Siiss, siisse Maid, halt ein !
Mein Busen ist ja nicht von Eis,
Und nicht von Marmelstein.

" nun, nun, siiss, siisse Maid,
Siiss, siisse Maid, halt ein !
Es soil ja Tauf und Hochzeit nun
In einer Stunde sein."

He has also translated " King John and
the Abbot of Canterbury" as Der Kaiser
und der Abt, and " The Child of EUe "
as Die Entfilhrimg. — Skeat.

279

3$e£Jssie t Off 33etinall:'

There are copies of this ballad in the Eoxburghe and the Bagford
collections, and in the Collection of Old Ballads. It is printed
in the Reliques chiefly from the Folio MS. " compared with two
ancient printed copies." It appears in numberless recent collec-
tions, as Professor Child's, Mr. Bell's Ballads of the Peasantry,
Mr. Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry
of England. The Folio copy, differing slightly from the current
ones, is here printed faithfully for the first time ; for the editor
of the Reliques seems to have thouglit that to him too, as to
painters and poets,

QuidJibet audendi semper fuit sequa potestas,

and freely used his license in the case of this ballad. He was
offended by the " absurdities and inconsistencies " of the old ver-
sion, " which so remarkably prevailed " in that part of the song
where the Beggar discovers himself. These were, we suppose, that
a Montfort should be spoken of as serving in the wars.

When first oiir King his fame did advance
And fought for his title in delicate France,

and then that the blinded soldier, when at last he got back to his
country, should resign himself to a beggar's life instead of at
once declaring himself and appealing to the royal bounty, if he
was possessed of no estate to support him. There seemed no
hope of curing such grievous deformities as these ; so the whole
limb was lopped off, and a new one substituted, manufactured
by Eobert Dodsley, author of The Economy of Human Life.
Eight new stanzas were substituted. " By the alteration of a

' In the printed collection of Old Ballads, 1 726. Vol. 2, p. 202, N. 35.— P.

280 BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

few lines," says Percy, " the story is rendered much more affecting-,
and is reconciled to probability and true history." Let those who
think it profitable or possible to bring about such a reconcilia-
tion be thankful. The copy as now at last reproduced gives one
stanza (vv. 228-32) not found in the ordinary versions.

The ballad was certainly not written later than Queen Eliza-
beth's reign ; for, as Percy points out, Mary Amhvee was sung to
the tune of it. One reason for which Percy attributes it to that
reign seems odd — because the " Queen's Arms " are mentioned
in V. 23 !

It was an extremely popular ballad, and no wonder. "■ This
very house," writes Pepys in his Diary, June 25, 1663, of Sir W.
Eider's place at Bethnal Grreen, " was built by the blind Beggar
of Bednall Grreen, so much talked of and sang in ballads ; but
they say it was only some outhouses of it." {apud Mr. Chappell's
Popular Music of the Olden Time, where the tune is given.)
The story is pretty, and is told unaffectedly. Each part has its
own surprise : the one revealing the wealth, the other the high
birth of the Beggar. These denouements are not supremely
noble ; but they are such as please the crowd. Such sudden
reverses are always delightful. But what a bathos it would
seem if, in the ballad of King Cophetua, the Beggar-maid should
turn out to be a disguised Princess, or the village maiden, whom
the Lord of Burleigh in Mr. Tennyson's poem leads home, a Lady
of title ! The present ballad is not satisfied to represent Bessie
as " pleasant and bright," " of favours most fair," " courteous." It
crowns her with vulgarer honours — showers riches on her, and
proves her of high lineage.

Eegium certe gemis et penates

Moeret iniqiios.
Crede non illam tibi do scelesta
Plebe dilectam.

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

281

ITT was a blind beggar thai long lost liis sight,
he had a faire daughter both pleasant & bright,
& many a gallant brane sntor had shee,
4 for none was soe comelye as pretty Bessye.

And tho shee was of ffavor most faire,
yett seeing shee was but a beggars hejTe,
of ancyent houskeepe/'s despised was shee,
8 Avhose sonnes came as sutors to prettye Bessye.

Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say,
" good fiather & mother, let me goe away
to seeke out my fortune, where euer itt be."
12 this sute then they granted to pretty Bessye.

Then Bessye thai was of bewtye soe bright,
they cladd in gray russett, & late in the night
With teares shee lamented her destinye ;
16 soe sadd & soe heauy was pretty Bessye.

Shee went till shee came to Stratford the bow,
then knew shee not whither nor w/ttch way to goe
ffrom ffather & mother alone parted shee,
20 who sighed & sobbed for pretty Bess3^e.

Shee kept on her lourney till it was day,
& went vnto Rumford along the hye way,
& att the Queenes armes entertained was shee,
24 soe faire & welfavoured was pretty Bessye.

Shee had not beene there a month to an End,
but 'Master & M/sfress, and all, were her ffreind ;
& euery braue gallant thai once did her see,
28 was straight- way in loue wtth pretty Bessye.

Great guifts they did giue her of siluer & gold,
& in their songs daylye her loue was extold ;
her beawtye was blessed in euery degree,
32 soe faire & soe comlye was pretty Bessye.

VOL. II. u

A blind
beggar had
a fair
daughter.

House-
holders
despised her,

so she

left her
parents,

walkt to

Stratford,

stopt at the
Queen's
Arms,
Rumford,

and all the
gallants fell
in love with
her.

sang of her
beauty,

282

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

and did her
bidding.

Pour suitors
Bue lier :

1. a rich
London
Merchant,

2. a Gentle-
man,

3. a Knight,

4. the Land-
lady's son,
■who will die
for her.

The Knight
will make
her a lady ;

the Gentle-
man will
clothe her in
velvet ;

the

Merchant
will give her
jewels.

Bessy refers
them to her
father.

The young men of Rumford in her had their loy,
shee showed herseffe carteous, & neuer to coye ;
and att her commandement wold they [ever] bee,
36 soo ifayi'e and soe comly was pretty Bessye,

fFowre sutors att once the vnto her did goe, [page 277]
the craved her ffavor, but still shee sayd noe ;
" I wold not -wish gentlemen marry with, mee : "
40 yett euer the honored pretty Bessye.

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,
was there the ffirst sutor, & proper with-all ;
the 2^. a genteleman of good degree,
44 who wooed & sued ffor pretty Bessye ;

The 3'1 of them was a gallant young Knight,
& he came vnto her disguised in the night ;
her Mispress owne Sonne the 4 . man must bee,
48 who swore he wold dye ffor pretty Bessye.

" And if thou wilt wedd with me," q?joth the Knight,
" He make thee a Ladye with loy [and] delight ;
my hart is inthralled by thy bewtye !
52 then grant me thy ffavor, my pretty Bessye ! "

The gentleman sayd, " marry wtth mee ;

in silke & in veluett my bessye shalbee ;

my hart lyes distressed; O helpe me ! " quoth hee,

" & grant me thy Loue, thou pretty Bessye ! "

" Let me bee thy husband ! " the Merchant cold say,
" thou shalt line in London both gallant & gay ;
my shippes shall bring home rych lewells for thee ;
& I will ffor euer loue pretty Bessye."

Then Bessye shee sighed, & thus shee did say,
" my ffather & mother I meane to obey ;
ffirst gett their good will, & be flaithfull to me,
04 & you shall enioye jour prettyc Bessye."

BESSIE OFF BEDiS'ALL.

283

Who is he ?

The Blind
Beggar of
Bednall
Greene,

led by a dog
with a bell.

To eueiy one tliis ans^ver sliee made,
wherfore vnto her they loyfFullye sayd,
" this thing to fFulfill wee doe all agree ;
68 & where dwells thy ffather, my pretty Bessy ? "

" My ffather," shee said, " is soone to be seene ;
he is the blind beggar of Bednall greene,
thai daylye sitts begging ffor charitye ;
72 he is the good ffather of pretty Bessye ;

" his markes & his tokens are knowen ffull well,
he alwayes is led w/tli a dogg and a bell ;
a silly blind man, god knoweth, is hee,
76 yett hee is the good ffather of pretty Bessye,"

"Nay then," q^oth the [Merchant, "thou art not for The

Merchant,

mee ! "

" nor," q?(oth the Inholder, "my Wiffe thou shalt bee ! " innkeeper,

" I lothe," sayd the gentleman, " a beggars degree ; and Gentie-

80 therffore, ffarwell, my pretty Bessye ! " man cry off.

" Why then," (\uoi\\ the knight, " hap better or worsse. But the

. , , Knight says

I way not true loue by the waight o± my pursse,
& bewtye is bewtye in euery degree,
84 then welcome to me, my pretty Bessye !

"With thee to thy ffather fforth will I goe."
" nay sofft," q?(oth his kinsman, " itt must not be soe
a beggars daughter noe Ladye shalbe ;
88 therfere take thy due [leaue] of pretty Bessye."

But soone after this, by breake of the day,

the knight ffrom Rumfford stole Bessye away.

the younge men of Rumfford, as thicke as might bee. The Rum -

. , . -r, ford men

92 rode affter to ffeitch agame pretty Bessye ;

he'll have
Bessy.

His kinsman
says Ko :

but he
carries off

Bessy.

As swift as they winde to ryd they were seene
vntill they came to Bednall greene ;
& as the knight lighted most curteouslye,
96 the ffought against him for pretty Bessye ;

II 2

oveitakc
him ;

284

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

but he is
rescued.

The Blind
Beggar

But rescew speedilye came on tlie plaine,
or else the yoimg knight ffor liis lone had beene slaine.
this fFray being ended, then straight he did see
100 his kinsman came rayling against pretty Bessye.

Then spake the blind Beggar, "althoe I be poore,
yett rayle not against my child at my dore ;
thoe shee be not decked in veluett & pearle,

offers to

give his girl io4 yctt will I dropp angcUs With yon for my girle ;

gold as the

Mn'wiu! " And then if my gold may better her birthe,

& e quail the gold you lay on the earth,
then neyther rayle, nor grudge you to see
108 the blind beggars daughter a Lady to bee.

[page 278]

Agreed.

The Beggar
lays down
angels
against the
Knight's

till the
latter's store
is gone,

and then
gives 100/.
more.

" Butt ffirst I will heare, & haue itt well Knowen,
the gold that you drop shall all be yo?ir owne."
with that they replyed, " contented wee bee."
112 "then here is," qwoththe Beggar, "ffor pretty Bessye."

With that an angell he dropped on the ground,
& dropped in angells 500'!
& oftentimes itt was proued most plaine,
116 fibr the gentlemans one the beggar dropt twayne,

Soe that the place wherin the did sitt,
with gold was couered euery whitt.
the gentleman haning dropped all his store,
120 said, " Beggar, hold ! for wee haue noe more.

" Thou hast fiFulfilled thy promise arright."
"then marry," q»,oth hee, " my girle to this 'Knight ;
& heere," q^oth hee, "He throw you downe
124 a 100" more to buy her a gowne."

The gentleman that all this treasure had scene,
admired the beggar of Bednall greene,
& those that were her sutors before,
128 their flflcsh for verry anger they tore.

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

285

Then was ffaire Bessye mached to tlie knight, So fair Bessy

& made a Ladye in others despite ; Lady,

a fFairer Ladye was neuer seene
132 then the Beggars daughter of Bednall gree[ne].

But of their sumptuos marriage & ffeast, ami I'li

& what braue LorcZs & K.nights thither we[r]e prest, about the

the 2"^. ffitt shall sett to sight, Fitt"if^ "^
136 With marueilous pleasure & wished delight.

140

parte

144

[Part II.]

Off a blind beggars daughter most bright,
that late was betrothed vnto a younge Knight,
all the discourse ther-of you did see :
but now comes the wedding of pretty Bes[sye].

Within a gallant pallace most braue,
adorned with all the cost the cold haue,
this wedding was kept most sumptuously,
& all ffor the creditt of pretty Bessye.

All kind of daintyes & delicates sweete
was brought ffor the banquett, as it most mee[t].
Partridge, plouer, & venison most ffree,
148 against the braue wedding of pretty Bessye.

The wedding

is held in
a palace,

and a grand
banquet is

This marryage through England was sp[r]ead by Nobles and

M gentles come

, to it.

soe that a great number therto did resort
of nobles & gentles in euery degree ;
152 & all was ffor the ffame of pretty Bessye.

To church then went this gallant younge knight ;
h[i]s bride ffollowed, an angell most bright,
with troopes of Ladyes, the like were neuer seene mio\?

156 as went w/th Sweet Bessye of Bednall greene. church.

286 BESSIE OFF J5EI)NALL.

After tiiG This marryage being solempnized then

W("th nmsicke perfourmed by tlie skillfullcst men,
comes the the Nobles & gentles sate downe at thai tyde,

feast, ^ •' '

160 each one beholding the beautifall brydo.

But after the sumptaous dinner was done,
to talks & to reason a number begunn
of the blind Begarars dausfhter most bright,
164 & what With his daughter he gane to the Knight.

Then spake the Nobles, " most marneill haue wee,
aiidthen this lollv bliud beo-o^ar wee cannott here see."

tlie Beggar '' ^°

is asked " niy Lor(^," said the Bride, " my father is soe base,

168 he is loth by his presence these states^ to disgrace ;

" The prayse of a woman in questyon to bringe'
before her fface heere, were a flattering thing."
Jessy's "wee thinke thy ffathers basenesse," q«oth they,

beauty puts '' ' ^ -^ '

baseness* 172 " might by thy bewtye be cleane put awaye."

comes in

Beggar They had noe sooner these pleasant words spoke,

but in comes the beggar cladd in a silke cote,
a velluett capp and a ffether had hee,
176 & now a Musityan fforsooth hee wold bee ;

with a kite.

anrl sincfs a

And being led in, ffor catching of harme [page 279]

he had a daintye Lute vnder his arme,
saies, " please you to heare any Musicke of mee ?
180 He sing you [a] song of pretty Bessye."

W/th tliai his lute he twanged straight- way,
& there begann most sweetlye to play,
& after a lesson was playd 2 or 3 :

Eongof 184 lie strayned on this song most delicatelyc :

' Nobles.— F.

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

287

" A Beggars claugliter did dwell on [a] grcene,
who ffor her fFaire might well be a queene;
a blithe bonny Lasse, & daintye, was shee,
188 & many a one called her pretty Bessyc."

the Beggar's
daughter.

Pretty

" Her ffather hee had noe goods nor noe Lands,
but begd 1 for a penny all day with his hand[s] ;
yett to her marriage hee gaue thousands 3 :
192 & still he hath somewatt for pretty Bessye ;

whose father
gave her

;j,ooo/.,

" And if any one her birth doe disdaine,
her ffather is ready with might & with maine
to proove shee is come of a N'oble degree ;
196 therfore neuer fflout att pretty Bessye."

and can
prove she's
of noble
birth.

With that the LorcZs & the companye round
with, harty Laughter were like to sound,
att last said the Lor(Zs, " full well wee may see,
200 the Bride & the Beggar is behouldinge to thee."

The Lords
laugh.

With that the Bride all blushing did rise
With the salt water within her faire eyes :
" pardon my ffather, graue Nobles," quoth, shee,
204 " that thorrow blind affection thus doteth on mee."

" If this be thy ffather," the ^ noble [s] did say,
" well may he be proud of this happy day ;
yett by his countenaunce well may wee see,
208 his birth & his ffortune did neuer agree ;

" And therfor, blind man, I pray thee bewray,
& looke that the truth thou to vs doe say,
thy birth & thy parentage, what itt may bee,
212 cuen for the loue thou bearest to pretty Bessye."

Bessy begs
them to
excuse her
father's
praise of her.

The Lords
ask

the Blind
Beggar to
confess who
he really is.

' The ff is made over a d in the MS.
-F.

* The e is made orer a ^r in the MS.
— F.

BESSIE OFF EEDNALL.

He tells
them.

" Then giue nie leaue, you Grengells ^ eclie one,
a song more to sing, then will I goe on ;
& if that itt may not winn good report,
216 tlien doe not giue me a groat for my sport.

"With King
Henry,

went to
France
young
Mountford.

At Blois he

was

wounded,

'• When ffirst our King his IFame did Advance,
& fought for his title in delicate firance,
in many a place many perills past hee :
220 then was not borne my pretty Bessye.

" And then in those warres went over to fight
many a braue duke, a Jjord, & a 'K.niglit,
& w^'th them younge Mountford, his courage most free :
224 but then was not borne my pretty Bessye.

" Att Bloyes there chanced a terrible day,
where many braue ffrenchmen vpon the ground Lay ;
amonge them Lay Mountford for companye :
228 but then was not borne my pretty Bessye.

lost both
his eyes,
and neai'ly
his life,
but for a
young
woman

who saved
him.

Together
they begged ;

came to
Beduall
Greene,

" But there did younge Mountford, by blow on the

face,
loose both his eyes in a very short space ;
& alsoe his liffe had beene gone w/th his sight,
232 had not a younge woman come forth in the night

" Amongst the slaine men, as fancy did moue,
to search & to seeke for her owne true loue ;
& seeing young Mountford there gasping to bee,
2.36 shee saued his liffe through charitye.

" And then all our vittalls, in Beggars attire [page 280]
att hands of good people wee then did require,
att last into England, as now it is seene,
240 wee came, & remained att Bednall greene ;

Gentles.— F.

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

289

" And thus wee haue liued in ffortunes despite,
tho 1 poore, yett contented with Immble delight ;
& in nij young ^ yeeres, a comfort to bee,
244 god sent mee my daughtei', pretty Bessye.

" And thus, noble Lords, my song I doe end,
hoping the same noe man doth offend ;
full 40 winters thus I haue beene,
248 a silly blind beggar of Bednall greene."

and begot

Pretty

Bessy.

That's the

Beggar's

tale.

Now when the companye euerye one The Lords

did heare the strange tale in the song he had show[n],
they were all amazed, as well the might bee, wonder.

252 both at the blind beggar & pretty Bessye.

with that he did the fayre bride inibrace,
saying, "thou art come of an hono»/-ablle race ;
thy ffather likewise of a highe degree,
256 & thou art well worthy a lady to bee ! "

The Beggar

embraces

Bessy,

Thus was the ffeast ended With loy & delight ;
a br[i]degrome [bhssful] was the young knight,
who liued in loy & felicitye
260 With his ffaire Ladye, pretty Bessye.

ffins.

and she and
her Kuight
live happily.

MS. the.— F.

2 ? old.— F.

290

[His great atchievemcwts on an Embassy to france. — P.]

This piece is now printed from ttie Folio for the first time.
It is no very considerable addition to English literature. It
gives, with average dulness, a ridiculously bragging account of
the achievements of one Sir Hugh Spencer at the court of
France, whither he was dispatched as ambassador — a truly
Philistine piece, such as might have been told at Grath or
published at Askalon. There does not seem to be any historical
ground for it. Not even the most triumphant English history
of England contains any account of the terrifying a French
king into promises of peace by the prowess of an English
ambassador, as here happens when Spencer, with four others,
manages to kill " about two or three score " of the King's guards
(p. 295, 1. 134), after having slain " 13 or 14 score on a previous
occasion (p. 294, 1. 122). The piece is, indeed, nothing better than
a tissue of coarse English braggadocio. An English " old hackney "
outvalues any one of a French knight's war-steeds. An English
staff is as stout as three French spears bound together. And as
for an English man, why he is good for a French host. What a
vulgar Philistine was this ballad-mongfer !

iHE : Court is kept att leeue London,
& euermore shall be itt ;
The King the King sent for a bokl Embassador,

tells Sir H. co-TTin tti-i

Spencer 4 & t)iv Jlugli bpencer that he hight.

' The suljject of this Ballad seems to be all-together fabnlons. — P.

HUGH SPENCER.

291

" come hither, Spencer," saith our Kinge,
" & come thou hither vnto mee,

I must make thee an Emhassadour
betweene the 'King of ffrance & mee.

to go to the
King of
France,

thou must coniend me to the 'King of ffrance,
& tell him thus & now ffrom mee,

' I wold know whether there shold be peace in his land, and a* him

whether he's
for peace or
war.

12 or open warr kept still must bee.'

" thoust haue thy shipp at thy comande,
thoust neither want for gold nor ffee,
thoust haue a 100 armed men
16 all att thy bidding ffor to bee."

they ^ wind itt serued, & they sayled,

& towards ffrance thus they be gone ;
they ' wind did bring them safe to shore,
20 & safelye Landed euerye one.

Spencer and
his men

land in
France.

the ffrenchmen lay on the castle wall ^

the English souldiers to be-hold :
" you are welcome, traitors, out of England ;
24 the heads of you are bought and sold !"

The French

connt on
their heads.

With that spake proud Sjiencer,

" my leege, soe itt may not bee !
I am sent an Embassador
28 ffrom our English King to yee.

"the King of England greetes you well,

& hath sent this word by mee ;
he wold know whether there shold be peace in yo«r
Land,
32 or open warres kept still must bee."

Spencer says
he

comes from
the English
Kinfr

to ask
whether it's
to bo peace
or war.

' the.— P.

'^ There is a tag at the end of this word in the MS. — 1'\

292

HUGH SPENCER.

War, says
the French
King;

" Comend me to the Englisli Kinge,

& tell this now ffrora mee ;
There shall neuer peace be kept in my Land [page 28i]

while open Avarres kept there may bee."

and his
Queen

sneers at
him for
talking to
English
traitors.

With that came downe the Queen e of fFrance,
and an angry woman then was shee ;

sales, " itt had beene as ffitt now for a ^ing
to be in his chamber with his ladye,

then to be pleading with traitors out of England
kneeling low vppon their knee."

Spencer

calls her a
liar.

But then bespake him proud Sj)encer,
44 for noe man else durst speake but hee :
" you haue not wiped yo?(r mouth, Madam,
since I heard you tell a lye."

She dares
him to fight
her knight.

" hold thy tounge, Spencer ! " shee said,
48 "I doe not come to plead with thee ;
darest thou ryde a course of warr

w^th a knight tlmt I shall put to thee ? "

Spencer says
he has

neither
armour nor
steed.

" but euer alacke ! " then Spencer sayd,
52 " I thinke I haue deserued gods cursse ;
ffor I haue not any armour heere,
nor yett I haue noe lusting horsse."

The Queen
tells him he's
too spindle-
shanked,

" thy shankes," q?(oth shee, " beneath the knee
56 are verry small aboue the shinne
ffor to doe any such honozwablle deeds
as the Englishmen say thou has done.

and too

small-
thighed

for a
jouster.

" thy shankes beene small aboue thy shoone,
60 & soe the beene aboue thy knee ;
thou art to slender euery way,
any good luster ffor to bee."

HUGH SPENCEK.

293

"but euer alacke," said Spencer then,
64 " for one steed of the English countrye ! "

with that bespake & one ffrench knight,
" this day thoust haue the Choyce of 3 : "

A French
knight offers
him one of
three steeds :

the first steed he fieiched out,
68 I-\yis he was milke white.

the ffirst fFoot Spencer in stirropp sett,^
his baeke did from his belly tj'pe.^

the 2^ steed thai he ffeitcht out,
72 I- wis 3 tliat hee was verry Browne ;
the 2? ffoot Spencer in stirropp settt,
thai horsse & man and all ffell downe.

the 3? steed thai hee flTeitched out,
76 I-wis thai he was verry blacke ;

the 3? ffoote Spencer into the stirropp sett,
he leaped on to the geldings backe,

"but euer alacke," said Spencer then,
80 " for one good steed of the English countrye !
goe ffeitch me hither my old hacneye

thai I brought with me hither beyond the sea."

1. a white

(whose back
breaks?),

(who

tumbles

down).

which
Spencer
jumps on,

but soon
calls fur his
old English
hack.

but when his hackney there was brought,
84 Spencer a merry man there was hee ;

sales, " With the grace of god & St. George of England, ^°f^ ^°f ^ *"
the fifeild this day shall goe with mee !

fight with
him.

"I haue not fforgotten," Spencer sayd,
88 " since there was fieild foughten att walsingam,
when the horsse did heare the trumpetts sound,
he did beare ore both horsse & man."

' There is a curl between the c and t
in the MS.— F.

2 ? MS. tjipe, with the I crossed at
top : no doubt for tyte, quickly, or Sc.
tyte to snatch, draw suddenly, Du. tijden

to draw, goe. — F.

^ As the / tuis is followed by that, it
may mean here ' I know,' and not be the
adverb ' certainly.' — F.

294 HUGH yPEJNCER.

The joust the day was sett, & togetther tliey mett

^sins, g^ With great mirtli & melodye,

with, minstrells playing & ti-Rinpetts soundinge,
wi'tli drumes striking loud & liye.

Spencer the ffirst race that spencer run,

French spear 96 I-wis hee run itt wonderous sore;
opponent; he [hit] the knight vpon his brest,

but his speare itt burst, & wold touch noe more.

asks for an " but euer alacko," said Spencer then,

English one,

100 " for one staffe of the English countrye !

Without youle bind me 3 together," [page 282]

qMoth hee, " theyle be to weake flPor mee."

w^'th that bespake him the flPrench Knight,
104 sayes, " bind him together the whole 30'^",
for I haue more strenght in my to hands
then is in all Spencers bodye."

and bets the " but proue att parting," spencer sayes,

Frcnc ti in o/n.

five to four 108 " ifrench Kniojht, here I tell itt thee,

he'll beat .

iiim. for I will lay thee 5 to 4

the bigger man I proue to bee."

So they joust ^^t the day was sett, & together they mett

again, ^^^ with great mirth & melodye,

w?th minstrells playing & trumpetts soundinge,
with drummes strikeing loud & hye.

and Spencer the 2? race that SjDencer run,

116 I-wis hee ridd itt in much pride,

unhorses the ^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ Knight vpon the brest,
js^^ig^t, ^ draue him ore his horsse beside.

but he run thorrow the fifrench campe ;
120 such a race was neuer run befibre ;
kills about he killed of K.inq Charles his men

280 men,

att hand of 13 or 14 score.

irUGH SrENCER.

295

but lie came backe agaiuc to the K[iBg]
124 & kneeled liim downe vpon his knee, andtciis

saies, " a knight I liaue slaine, & a steed I haue woone, charies of

it.

the best tltat is in this countrye."

" but nay, by my fliitli," said the 'King,
128 " Spencer, soe itt shall not bee ;
lie hane thai traitors head of thine
to enter plea att my loUye."

Charles says
he"ll have
his head.

but Spencer looket him once about ;
132 he had true bretheren left but 4:
he killed ther of ^ the Kings gard
about 2 or 3 score.

Spencer
and his men
kill fifty of
the King's
Guard.

"but hold thy hands," the King doth say,
136 " Spencer ! now I doe pray thee ;
& I will goe into litle England,
vnto that cruell Kinge with, thee."

Charles
prays him
to stop,

and offers
to go to
England.

" Nay, by my ffaith," Spencer sayd,
140 " my leege, for soe itt shall not bee ;

for on ^ you sett ^ ffoot on English ground,
you shall be hanged \'3)on a tree."

Spencer
refuses this.

" why then, comend [me] to that English Kinge,
144 & tell him thus now ffrom mee,

that there shall neuer be open warres kept in my Land
whilest peace kept that there may bee."

ffins.

Then
Charles
promises
peace.

' MS. thcrof.— F.

ou = aii, if. — F.

3 ? MS. seitt or settt.— F.

296

This Adler may be the same with that one who appears in the
ballad of King Estmere. As that ballad narrates the marriage
of the elder brother Estmere, and how the younger Adler as-
sisted to bring it about, so here the younger brother's wooing
and winning are described, and how Estmere promoted them.
Perhaps the lost second line made mention of Estmere. There
seems to be an error in the eleventh verse : Estmere there should
be Ardine. Both brothers are somewhat fastidious in their con-
nubial tastes. " I know not," says Estmere in the ballad dedi-
cated to him in the Reliqiies,

" I know not that laclye in any lande
That is able to marry with mee."

And here Adler insists on a wife silk-soft, milk-white, lithe and
lissome.

In this ballad the comic element predominates. The narrative
is humorous, and so is the narration. The piece reads like a
nursery tale, as Mr. Furnivall suggests in the note.

Khig Adler IVINGE : Acller, as hee in his window Lay,

[unto a stranger knight lie did say,]
" I wold my lands they were as hroada
4 as the red rose is in my garden :
describes the there wsre not that woman this day aliue,

I kept to bee my wedded wiffe,
without the ^ were as white as any milke
■ 8 or as soft as any silke,

' Poor stxifF. — P. No doubt meant for a nursery tale. — F. - she.— F.

wife he
wants,

KINGE ABLER.

297

& they royall rich wine ran downe her brest bone,

& lord ! shee were & a leath ^ maiden."

" but Estmere our Ki«r/ has a daiighter soe younge ;

god Lord ! shees as soft as any silke,

& as white as any niilke,

the royall rich wine runes do"svne her brest bone,

& lord ! shee is a leath maiden."

" but will you goe vnto K.ing Ardine,

& will tit at IFaire Lady that shee wilbe mine ? "

Hee tooke the fflood, & the winde was good, [page 283]

vntill hee came vnto that 'Kjings hall.

he grett them well both great & small :

"Kinge Adler hath sent me hither to thee,

& wills thy ffayre daughter, shee will his bee."

he sayes, " if ^ing Adler will my daughter winne,

of another manner he must begin :

ifaith he shall bring Lords to the Mold,

100 Shippes of good red gold,

100 Shippes of Ladyes on the moure,

100 Shippes of wheat boulted flower,

100 Shippes of Ladyes bright,

100 Shippes of new dubbd knights.

yett he shall doe tJiat is more pine,

he shall take the salt sea & turne itt to red wine ;

Avhen hee has done all these deeds,

then my faire daughter shalbe his ;

but I haue sett her on such a pinn,^

'King Adler shall her neuer winne."

he tooke the flood, & they wind was good,

& neuer stayd in noe stead

vntill he came to Kinge Adlers hall.

he greeted them well both great & small,

A stranger

says his
king has the
d iughter to
suit Adler.

" Will jou
go and ask
for her, for
me? "

The man
goes and
asks.

King

Estmere or
Ardine

recounts
■what ship-
loads of
things Adler
must first
bring him,

and then
turn the sea
to red wine.

Adler's

messenger
returns

' Leath, soft, supple, limber, pliant,
Denbighshire ; in Halliwell's Gloss.
Lithe.— F.

^ ? high point, station, or ' fancy,

huinonr,' as in ' Each sett on a mery
pin,' Fri/ar ^- £oi/e, 1. 484, Lo. and Hum.
Songs, p. 28.— F.

VOL. II.

298

KINGE ABLER.

and gives
him

King

Estmere's
message :
the ship-
loads he's to
bring him,

and then
turn the sea
into wine.

Adler says

they must
dress him as
a woman ,
and take him
to the
Princess's
court to
board with
her ladies.

His

messenger
takes him,

and tells
Estmere he
has brought
a lady to
board among
his ladies.

saies " I liaue beene att yonder 'Kings place
to speake w/'th his daugliter fayre of face ;
lie sayes, if you will his daughter winne,

44 of another manner you must begin :
you must bring lords to the mold,
100 Shippes of good redd gold,
100 Shippes of Ladyes of the moure,

48 100 Shippes of wheat boulted flower,
100 Shippes of Ladyes bright,
100 Shippes of new dubdd knights ;
& yett you must doe that is more pine,
take the salt sea & turne it to red wine ;
but he hath sett her on such a pinne
that you can her neuer winne."
" some thing you must doe for mee,
I tell you all in veretye ;
in Ladyes [clothes i] will yee mee bowne,
& bring mee to that Ladyes towne,
& boaird me there one yeere or towe

60 amongst those Ladyes for to ^ goe,
& board ^ me there yeeres 2 or 3 :
amongst those faire Ladyes for to bee."
he tooke the fflood, & the wind was good,

64 & he neuer stayd nor stoode

vntill he came to that Ladyes hall :

he greeted them well both great & small,

sayes, "heere I haue brought a fayre Ladye ;

68 from her owne ffreinds shee is comen to bee ;
I must board her a yeere or tow
amongst yo^^r Ladyes for to goe."
these Ladyes sate all on a rowe ;

72 some began to cut silke, some for to sowe ;

' clothes, qa. — P.

^ a K, seemingly marked out, stands
between to and goe. — F.

^ Mr. Gee, in his Vocabulary of B.
Words, gives hoard v. n. lodge, as early as
1390 A.D.— F.

KING ADLER.

299

100

104

the Kings daughter sayes, " jour fimgars are too

great,
or else joicr eyes beene oiit of seat, —
I tell you fall soone anon, —
to sowe silke or Lay gold on."
but ere the 12 moneth was come & gone
he wan the farrest Ladye of euerye one.
the cast the lot, & one by one,
& all the Ladyes euerye one
they cast it ouer 2 or 3 :

King Adler ffell w/'th the Kings daughter to lye.
but when they were in bedd Laid,
these words -voito her then hee said ;
sales, " Lady, were thai man this day aliue
that you wold be his wedded wiffe,
& were that man soe highlye borne
that you wold be his hend lemman ? "
" there is noe man this day aliue
I kept to be his wedded wiffe,
w^thout itt were King Adler, hee,
the noblest 'K.night in Christentye.
my father hath sett me on such a pinne,'
'King Adler must me neuer winne."
" but, Ladye, how & ^ soe betyde
King Adler were in jouv bed hidd ?
wold you not call them all att a stowre,
none of the Ladyes wz'thin yo«r bower ?
nor wold you not call them all at a call,
none of the Lords in jouv fathers hall ?
nor wold you not call them all by-deene,
jouY fiather the King, nor joitr mother the queene ?
but soe quickly you wold gett you bowne,
to goe With King Adler out of the towne ? "
sais shee, "if itt wold soe betyde
King Adler were in my bed hidd,

• MS. pime.— F. ^ ^^^ if._F.

The Princess
tells Adler
his fingers
are too big.

One night
they cast
lots for bed-
fellows,

[page 284]

and Adler
wins the
Princess.

He asks her
whom she'd
like to
marry.

" King
Adler."

" Suppose he
were in your
bed,

would you
wake up
your ladies

and the
King and
Queen, or
elope with
Adler?"

300

KINGE ABLER.

" I wouldn't
call up my
ladies,

but would
go off with

Adler.''

Adler

discovers

himself.

carries his
love ofE
under his
arm, and
sails away
home.

May we all
prosper till
men wed so !

I wold not call them all in stowre,
108 none of the Ladyes in my bower ;

nor I wold not call them all att a call,

none of the Lords in my fathers hall ;

nor I wold not call them all by-deenee,
112 my ifather the King, nor my mother the Queens ;

but soe quicklye I wold gett me bowne

to goe With King Adler out of the towne."

" but turne thee, Ladye, hither to mee !
116 for I am the K[ing] that speakes to thee ! "

" alacke ! King Adler ! I shall catch cold,

for I can neuer tread on the mold,

but vpon rich cloth of gold

that is 5 thousand fold."

"peace, faire Lady ! youst catch noe harme,'

for I will carry you vnder mine arme."

he tooke the fflood, & the winde was good,

& he neuer stinted nor stood

vntill he came to his owne hall ;

he greeted them well both great & small.

god send vs all to be well, & none to be woe,
128 vntill they wine their true loue soe !

ffins.

120

124

' harne in MS. — F.

Down the left margin of this p. 284
of the MS. is written :

my sweet brother sweet Cous Edward

Bevell

Booke

Elizabeth Reuell,

And in the same hand are written on the
right of Terse 3 of " Boy and Mantle "
the sam and / henercy. — F.

301

33op antr i^autle*'

This ballad was printed by Professor Child as the first in his
English and Scottish Ballads, under the title of " The Boy and
the Mantle," with the following Introduction : —

No incident is more common in romantic fiction, than the
employment of some magical contrivance as a test of conjugal
fidelity, or of constancy in love. In some romances of the
Eound Table, and tales founded upon them, this experiment is
performed by means either of an enchanted horn, of such pro-
perties that no dishonoured husband or unfaithful wife can drink
from it without spilling, or of a mantle which will fit none but
chaste women. The earliest known instances of the use of
these ordeals are afforded by the Lai du Corn, by Eobert Bikez,
a French minstrel of the twelfth or thirteenth century, and the
Fabliau du Mantel MautailU, which, in the opinion of a
competent critic, dates from the second half of the thirteenth
century, and is only the older lay worked up into a new shape.
(Wolf, Ueber die Lais, ?>'2'J, sq., 342, sq.) We are not to
suppose, however, that either of these pieces presents us with
the primitive form of this humorous invention. Eobert Bikez
tells us that he learned his story from an abbot, and that
" noble ecclesiast " stood but one further back in a line of
tradition which curiosity will never follow to its source. We
shall content ourselves with noticing the most remarkable
cases of the use of these and similar talismans in imaginative
literature.

In the Roman de Tristan, a composition of unknown anti-

' This seems to have furnish'd the Lib. 4. Cant. 2. St. 25 seq. Lib. 5.
Hint of Florimel's Girdle to Spencer. Cant. 5. — P.

302 BOY AND MANTLE.

qiiity, the frailty of nearly all the ladies at the court of King
Marc is exposed by their essaying a draught from the marvellous
horn, (see the English Morte Arthur, Southey's ed. i. 297). In
the Roman de Perceval, the knights, as well as the ladies,
undergo this probation. From some one of the chivalrous
romances Ariosto adopted the wonderful vessel into his Orlando,
(xlii. 102, sq., xliii. 31, sq.,) and upon his narrative La Fontaine
founded the tale and the comedy of La Coujje Encliantee. In
Grerman, we have two versions of the same story, — one, an
episode in the Krone of Heinrich vom Tiirlein, thought to have
been borrowed from the Perceval of Chretien de Troyes, (Die
Sage vom Zauberbecher, in Wolf, Ueber die Lais, 378,) a.nd
another, which we have not seen, in Bruns, Beitrdge zur kriti-
scJten Bearbeitung alter Handschr if ten, ii. 139; while in English,
it is represented by the highly amusing " bowrd," which we are
about to print, and which we have called The Horn of King
Arthur.^ The forms of the tale of the mantle are not so
numerous. The fabliau already mentioned was reduced to
prose in the sixteenth century, and published at Lyons, (in
1577,) as Le 3fanteau ^nal taille, (Legrand's Fabliaux, 3rd ed.
i. 126,) and under this title, or that of Le Court Mantel, is very
well known. An old fragment {Der Alantel) is given in Haupt
and Hoffmann's ^^^JetifecAe Blatter, ii. 217, and the story is also
in Bruns' Beitrdge. Lastly, we find the legends of the horn and
the mantle united, as in the German ballad Die Ausgleichung,
{Des Knaben Wunderhorn, i. 389,) and in the English ballad of
The Boy and the Mantle, where a magical knife is added to the
other curiosities. All three of these, by the way, are claimed by
the Welsh as a part of the insignia of Ancient Britain, and the
special property of Tegau Eurvron, the wife of Caradog with the
strong arm. (Jones, Bardic Museum, p. 49.)

In other departments of romance, many other objects are

• Child's Eallads, i. 17-27, from MS. Ashmole 61, fol. 59-62.

BOY AND MANTLE. 303

endowed with the same or an analogous virtue. In Indian and
Persian story, the test of innocence is a red lotus-flower ; in
Amadis, a garland, which fades on the brow of the unfaithful ; ^
in Perceforest, a rose. The Lay of the Rose in Perceforest is
the original (according to Schmidt) of the much-praised tale of
Senece, Camille, ou la Maniere de filer le parfait Amour,
(1695), — in which a magician presents a jealous husband with
a portrait in wax, that will indicate by change of colour the
infidelity of his wife, — and suggested the same device in the
twenty-first novel of Bandello, (Part First,) on the translation
of which in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, (vol. ii. No. 28,)
Massinger founded his play of The Picture. Again, in the tale
of Zeyn Alasmian and the King of the Genii, in the Arabian
Nights, the means of proof is a mirror, that reflects only the
image of a spotless maiden; in that of the carpenter and the
king's daughter, in the Gesta Romanorum, (c. 69,) a shirt,
which remains clean and whole as long as both parties are true ;
in Pcdmerin of England, a cup of tears, which becomes dark in
the hands of an inconstant lover; in the Fairy Queen, the
famous girdle of Florimel ; in Horn and Rimnild (Ritson,
Metrical Romances, iii. 301,) as well as in one or two ballads in
this collection [ed. Child], the stone of a ring ; in a Grerman ballad.
Die Krone derKonigin von Afion, (Erlach, Volkslieder der Deut-
schen, i. 132,) a golden crown, that will fit the head of no incon-
tinent husband. Without pretending to exhaust the subject, we
may add three instances of a different kind : the Valley in the
romance of Lancelot, which being entered by a faithless lover

' So also in the well-told story of The chaplett woUe hold hewe ;

The Wright's Chaste Wife (E. E. T. Soc. And yf thy wyfe vse putry,

1865) a garland is the test : Or tolle eny man to lye her by,

Haue here thys garlond of roses ryche, ^ Then wolle yt change hewe ;

In alk thys lond ys none yt lyche ; ^^^ ^7 the garlond ).on may see,

For ytt wylk en«r he newe Fekyll. or fals yf f.at sche be,

(Wete iou wele wrt/.owtyn fable,) Or ellys yf sche be trewe

AUe the whyle thy wyfe ys stable ^- '^"^ ^'^■- ^ ■

304 BOY AND MANTLE.

would hold him imprisoned forever ; the Cave in Amad'is of
Gaul, from which the disloyal were driven by torrents of flame ;
and the Well in Horn and Rimnild, (ibid.) which was to show
the shadow of Horn, if he proved false.

In conclusion, we will barely allude to the singular anecdote
related by Herodotus, (ii. Ill,) of Phero, the son of Sesostris, in
which the experience of King Marc and King Arthur is so
curiously anticipated. In the early ages, as Dunlop has re-
marked, some experiment for ascertaining the fidelity of women,
in defect of evidence, seems really to have been resorted to.
"By the Levitical law," {Niimhers v. 11-31,) continues that
accurate writer, " there was prescribed a mode of trial, which
consisted in the suspected person drinking water in the taber-
nacle. The mythological fable of the trial by the Stygian foun-
tain, which disgraced the guilty by the waters rising so as to
cover the laurel wreath of the unchaste female who dared the
examination, probabl}^ had its origin in some of the early institu-
tions of G-reece or Egypt. Hence the notion was adopted in the
Greek romances, the heroines of which were invariably subjected
to a magical test of this nature, which is one of the few particulars
in which any similarity of incident can be traced between the
Grreek novels and the romances of chivalry." See Dunlop,
History of Fiction, London, 1814, i. 239, sq, ; Legkand, Fab-
liaux, 3d ed., i. 149, sq., 161 ; Schmidt, Jahrb acker der Litera-
tur, xxix. 121 ; Wolf, Ueber die Lais, 174-177; and, above all,
Graesse's Sagenkreise des Mittelcdters, 185, sq.

Tlte Boy and the Mantle was [said to be] " printed verbatim "
from the Percy MS., in the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,
iii. 38.

A boy comes i^ the third day of May,

to Carlisle + n i "i tj

to Larleile did come
a kind curteous child
4 thai cold much of wisdome.

BOY AND MANTLE.

305

a kirtle & a Mantle

this Child had \^pon,
With branches ^ and ringes,
8 full richelye bedone.

he had a sute of silke

about his middle drawne ;
w/thout he cold ^ of curtesye,
12 he tliouo-ht itt much shame.

richly
dressed and
jewelled.

" god speed thee, 'Kinrj Arthur,

sitting att thy meate !
& the goodlye Queene Gueneuer!
1 6 I canott her fforgett.

" I tell you Lords in this hall,

I hett you all heate,^
except you be the more sui-er
20 is you for to dread."

he plucked out of his potewer,*

& longer wold not dwell,
he pulled forth a pretty mantle
24 betweene 2 nut-shells.

He greets
Arthur

and
Guenevere,

[page 285]

and pnll3
out of his
bag

a mantle

" haue thou here 'King Arthure,

haue thou heere of mee ;
giue itt to thy comely queene
28 shapen as itt is alreadye ;

■which he
tells Arthur

to give to
Guenevere.

" itt shall neucr become that wiffe

thai hath once done amisse."
then euery K.)iujM in the 'Kings court
.32 beofan to cai*e for his wiffe. ^

' Brooches. — P. ? MS. branches. — F.
^ knew. — F.

* heed, qu. — P. heede. — liel. hete,
a promise. — F.

* See pag. 382, ver. 98 [poteuere in

Sir Degree.] — P. poterver. — JRd. The
first syllable must be i^orte, carry. — F.

^ began to care for his. — P. ? care in
MS.— F

306

BOY AND MANTLE.

Guenevere
takes it.

It tears In
two.

fortli came dame Gueneiier ;

to tile m.aiitle shee her biled ^ :
tlie Ladye sliee was new faiigle,^
36 but yett shee was affrayd.

wlien sliee had taken the Mantle,

shee stoode as she had beene madd
it was from the top to the toe
40 as sheeres had itt shread.^

and changes
colour.

one while was itt gaule/

another while was itt greene,
another while was itt wadded, —
44 ill itt did her beseeme, —

Arthur
thinks she is
not true.

another while was it blacke

& bore the worst hue.
"by my troth," q^toth K.ing Arthur,
48 " I thinke thou be not true."

Guenevere

rushes ofiE
blushing,

curses the
mantle-
maker

and the
child.

and says
she'd rather
be in a wood
than
shamed.

shee threw downe the naantle

that bright was of blee.®
fast with a rudd ^ redd
52 to her chamber can shee flee ;

shee curst the weauer & the walker ^

that clothe that had wrought,
& bade a vengeance on his crowne
56 that hither hath itt brought ;

" I had rather be in a wood

vnder a greene tree,
then in 'King Arthurs court
60 shamed for to bee,"

> Query the le in the MS.— F. hied.
—Rd.

- new /angle is fond of a new thing,
catching at novelties, ab. A.-S. fangan,
apprehendere, capere, corripere, hinc
fcmg, Gloss, ad G. D.— P.

^ i. e. divided. — P.

* gule, qu. — P. red. — F.

^ colour, complexion, bleoh — idem,
Saxon. — P.

* Complexion. — P.

' Fidler, Jun. — P. A.-S. wealccre. — F.

BOY AND MANTLE.

307

Kay called forth his ladje,
& bade her come neere ;
saies, " madam, & thou be guiltye,
64 I pray thee hold thee there."

forth cam.e his Ladye

shortlye & anon;
boldlye to the Mantle
68 then is shee gone.

Eaj calls
forth his
wife.

She tries the
mantle,

when she had tane the Mantle

& cast it her about,
then was shee bare
72 all aboue the Buttocckes.^

but it leaves
her buttocks
bare.

then euery Knight

that was in the Kings court
talked, laug[hjed, & showted,
76 fall oft att tJiat sport.

shee threw downe the mantle

that bright was of blee :
ffast With a red mdd
80 to her chamber can shee flee.

Shernns o3
with a red
face.

forth came an old K-dight'
pattering ^ ore a creede,
& he proferred to this litle boy
84 20 markes to his meede,

& all the time of the Christmasse

willignglye to ffeede ;
for why this Mantle might
88 doe his wifFe some need.

An old
knight offers
the boy a
reward

to try it on
his wife.

' Before all the rout. — Eel.

' patter, obscuro murmure hnmilibTis
que susurris hypocritarum instar, coram
populo preculas fundere — Junius. They

say in Shropshire to pat her, i.e. to make
a noise, as when one rubs the feet
agamst the ground, & scratches. — P.

308

EOT AND MANTLE.

She takes it.

and has only
a tassel and
thread on
her.

When sliee had tane the mantle

of cloth thai was made,
sliee had no more left on her

but a tassell & a threed.
then euery 'K.night in the 'Kings court

bade " euill might shee speed."

[page 28G]

She rushes
off shamed.

shee threw downe the Mantle
96 that bright was of blee,

& fast with a redd rudd

to her chamber can shee flee.

Craddock
tells his wife
to try

Craddocke called forth his Ladye,
100 & bade her come in ;

saith, "winne this mantle, Ladye,
With a litle diune :

and win the
mantle.

" winne this mantle, Ladye,
104 & it shalbe thine

if then neuer did amisse
since thou wast mine."

She comes, forth came Craddockes Ladye

108 shortly e & anon,

but boldlye to the Mantle
then is shee gone.

puts it on ;

it begins to
crinkle up.

112

116

when shee had tane the mantle

& cast itt her about,
vpp att her great toe

itt began to ci'inkle ^ & crowt ;
shee said "bo we downe, Mantle,

& shame me not for nought ;

' to crinkle, to go in & out, to run in — P. Croitt, a variant of crowd, to draw
flexures ; from krinckelen Belff. Johnson. close together. — F.

BOY AND MANTLE.

309

" once I did amisse,

I tell you certainlye,
when I kist Craddockes moutli
120 Ynder a greene tree,

wlien I kist Craddockes mouth

before he marryed mee."

•when shee had her shreeuen,*
124 & her sines shee had tolde,
the mantle stoode about her
right as shee wold,

seemelye of coulour,
128 glittering like gold.

then euery 'K.night in Ai'thurs court
did her behold.

then spake dame Gueneuer
132 to Arthur our King,

" she hath tane yonder mantle,

not w/th Wright 2 but with wronge

She confesses

that she
kissed ■
Craddock

before he
married her.

The mantle
nncrinkles.

clothes her,

and glitters
like gold.

maligns

Craddock'3

wife,

" see you not yonder woman
136 thai maketh her selfe soe cleare ^ ?
I haue seene tane out of her bedd
of men fiueteeene,

" Preists, Clarkes, & wedded men
140 from her by-deene !

yett shee taketh the mantle
& maketh her-selfe cleane ! "

says she has
seen fifteen
men taken
out of her
bed.

then spake the litle boy
144 tliai kept the mantle in hold ;
sayes " K/h^ ! Chasten thy wiffe !
of her words shee is to bold.

The Boy-

tells Arthur
to restrain
his wife.

' i. e. confessed : shrive, fateri, confi-
teri. Hinc shrovetide. Jun. — P.

2 right.— P.
' cleane. — P.

310

BOY AND MANTLE.

who is a
whore,

and has

cuckolded

him.

" shee is a bitcli & a witch,
148 & a wliore bold !

King, in thine owne hall
thou art a Cuchold! "

The Boy sees
a boar ;

A litle boy • stoode
152 looking ouer a dore ;

he was ware of a wyld bore "^
wold haue werrjed a man.

runsout.cuts
off its head.

he pulld forth a wood kniffe ;
156 fast thither tliai he ran ;

he brought in the bores head,
& quitted him like a man.

brings it
in,

and says no
cuckold
can cut it.

he brought in the bores head,
160 and was wonderous bold :

He said, " there was neuej- a Cucholds I page 287]
kniffe
carue itt that cold."

Some
knights

throw their

knives

away;

some rubbed their k[n]iues
164 vppon a whetstone ;

some threw them vnder the table,
& said they had none.

others try,
but can't cut
it.

Km;^ Arthus & the Child
168 stood looking them vpon 2 ;
all their k[n]iues edges
turned backe as:aine.

Craddock

cuts up the
head.

Craddoccke had a litle kniue
172 of Iron & of Steele ;

he birtled"* the bores head

' The little boy.— P.
* And there as he was looking
He was ware of a wyld Bore.

Qu.-P.

' upon them, Qu. — P.

* birtled, or britled. — P. A.-S. hryt-
tian, to divide into fragments, distribute.
— F.

BOY AND MANTLE.

311

wonderous weele,
tliai euery Knight in tlie Kings court
176 liad a morssell.

180

the litle boy had a liorne
of red gold that ronge ;

he said, " there was noe Cuckolde
shall drinke of my home,

but he shold itt sheede

Either behind orbeforne."

The Boy
says no
cuckold can
drink out of
his horn
without
spilling.

184

188

some shedd on their shoulder,
& some ^ on their knee ;

he that cold not hitt his mouth
put it in his eye ;

& he that was a Cuckold,
euery man might him see.

Many try,

192

Craddoccke wan the home

& the bores head ;
his ladye wan the mantle

vnto her meede.
Euerye such a louely Ladye,

God send her well to speede !

ffins.

but

Craddock
alone can
do it.

God bless
ladies like
Craddock's
wife!

' sone in the MS.— F.

f " When as I doe reccord," printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs,
p. 68-9, follows here in the MS.^

312

[Page 288 of MS.]

This is but a pedestrian composition, being nothing more than
a passage of a dull and not very accurate history of England
turned into yet duller and as inaccurate verse. It was written,
or perhaps was revised and added to, after 1619, as the Queen of
James I., Anne of Denmark, is spoken of as dead and gone
(v. 198), and she died in that year. The principal hero is
Henry VII., who is pronounced a paragon of virtue, and inter
alia a most faithful and affectionate husband. De mortuis nil
7iisi bonum, has been the poetaster's motto ; or rather De Tuclore
mortuo nil nisi optimum. The piece may have had its use in
aiding and abetting the memories of the common people. Books
were not yet so cheap and plentiful but that artificial memory-
helps were welcome. The ballad form was in extreme requisition
and popularity for all manners of subjects in the first half of the
seventeenth century. Everything was be-balladed.

In the wars VV HEN yorke & Lancaster made warre

oftheEoses -n • j_i • rr t j

witnm this namous Land,
the lines of all our Noble men
4 did in great danger stand.

many 7 'Kinc/s in bloodve ifeilde

kings were

left iieiriess, ffor Englaiids crowne did ffight,

& yett their heyres were, all but twaine,
8 of liffe bereaued quite.

' In the printed Collection of Old Written or recast in James I.'s time:
Ballads, 1726, Vol. 2. p. 206, N. xv.— P. see lines 78, 149.— F,

WHITE ROSE AND RED.

ther 30000 Englishmen
were in one battell slainc ;

yett all tliai English blood cold not
one setled peace obtaine.

313

and 30,000
lives

secured no
peace.

father[s] killed their owne deare sonnc,

the sonnes the ffathers slew,
& kinsmen ffought against their ^ing,
16 & none echo other knew.

att Lenght, by Heneryes Lawfull claime/

these wasting warres had end,
for Englands peace he did restore,
20 & did the same defend.

But Henry

vn.

ffor tyrant Richard named the 3'!,

the breeder of this woe,
by him was slaine nere Leister towne,
24 as chronicles doe shoe.

slew Richard
III.

all fFeare of warr was then Exiled,
w7«'ch loyed echo Englishman ;
& dayes of long desired peace
28 within this Land began.

and brought

he ruled this kingdome by true loue,

to gaine his subiects Hues ;

then men liued quietly att home

.32 with their children & their wiues.

"King Henery tooke such princely care

our ffurther peace to frame,
tooke ffaire Elizabeth to wifie,^
36 tliai gallant yorkshire dame.

Henry

married

' One stroke of the m is wanting in the MS. — F.
VOL. II. Y

See Ladyc Bessiyc in vol. iii. — F.

314

WHITE ROSE AND RED.

York's
heiress ;

4 Edwardes daughter, blest of god,
to scape king Edwards * spiglit,

was thus made Englands peereles Queene,
& Heneryes hartes delight.

this Henery, fl&rst of Tuders name

& last of Lancaster,
-with. Yorkes right heyre a true loues knott
44 did knitt & make ffast there.

the White
Eose bedded
"with the
Ked;

renowned yorke, the white rose gaue

braue Lancaster the redd ;
by wedlocke both inoyned were
48 to lye in one princely bed.

and they are
a badge in
the Koyal
Arms.

May they
flourish
still !

these roses grew, & buded fayre,

& w^th soe good a grace,
tJiat Km(/s'of Engl[a]nd in their armes ^
52 affords a worthy place.

& fflourish may these roses still,
thai all they world may tell !
the owners of these princely fflowers
56 in vertue to Exell !

To glorifye these roses more,
king henerye & his Queene
did place their pictures in red gold,
60 most gorgeous to be scene.

[page 289]

The King's
Guard wear

the 'Kings owne guard doe weare them now

vpon their backe & brest,
where loue & loyaltye remaines,
64 & euenuore may rest.

' That is, Richard's. — Adams.
2 The Red and White Roses never
were, strictly speaking, m the Royal

Arms, but were and are a badge borne
with them. — Gr. E. Adams, Eouge Dragon.

WHITE ROSE AND RED

315

tlie red rose on tlie backe is placed,

theron a crowne of golcl ;
the wli[i]te rose on the brest as rich,

and castlye ^ to behold,

bedecket with siluer stnddes,

& coates of scarlett & redd,
a blushing hew, w7</ch Englands fame

this many yeeres hath spredd.

this Tudor & Plantasdnett

these honors ffirst devised
to welcome home a settled peace

by vs soe dearlye prized :

w7i/ch peace now maintained is
by lames our gracyous Kinge ;

fFor peace brings plentye to this Land,
With many a blessed thing.

to speake of Heneryes praise againe :

his princley liberall hand
gaue giufts & graces many wayes

vnto this fFamous Land.

wherfore the Lord him blessing sent

for to encrease his store,
for that he left more welthe to vs

then any King before.

the ffirst blessing was to his Queene,

a giuft aboue the rest,
w/wch brought him sonnes & daughters faii-c

to make his Kingdome blest.

the royall blood, which was att Ebbe,

soe encreased by this Queene,
that Englands heyre vnto this day

doth fflourish Afresh & greene.

' costlye. — F.
y2

tlie Rod Rose
on their
backs,

the White
on their
breasts,

on their

scarlet

coats.

in honour of
peace so
prized

(which
James
preserves).

Henry gave
liberally.

and the Lord
blest him.

with sons

and

daughters

(whose line

continues

now).

316

WHITE ROSE AND EED.

His heir,
Arthur
prince of

Wales,
sailed to
Spain

100

the first blossome of this seed
was Arthur, Prince of wales,

whose vertue to the Spanish court
quite ore the Ocean sayles,

and married
Ferdinand's

daughter
Katherine,

where fierdinando, l^ing of Spayne,

his daughter Katherine gaue
ffor wiffe vnto this English Prince
104 a thing which god wold haue.

bnt died
young,
(April 1502,)

yett Arthur, in his loftye youth

& blooming time of age,
resigned vp his sweetest lifie
los to deathes imperyall rage.

to England's
grief.

who dying thus, noe Isue left, —

the sweet of natures loy, —
did compasse England round w^'th greeffe,
112 & Spaine with sadd annoye.

But Henry
VII. had
another boy,

Henry VIII.,

yett Henery, to increase his loy,

a Henery of his name,
in ffoUowing time 8 Henery called,^
1 1 G a king of worthy fFame ;

who

conquered
French
towns,

he Conquered Bullein with his sword,

& many townes of ffrance ;
his kinglye manliood & his fortitude
120 did Englands ffame advance.

put down
Papistry,

then Popish Abbyes he supprest,

& Pappistrye put downe,
& bound their Land by Parlaiment
124 vnto his royall crowne.

' The d is made over an I in the MS. — F.

WHITE ROSE AND RED.

317

128

he had 3 Chilch*en by 3 Queenes,
all Princes raigning here,

Edward, Marry, & Elizabeth,
A Queene beloued most deere.

and had

three
children,
wlio all
reigned,

[page 290]

yett these 3 branches bare noe fruite ;

noe such blessing god did send ;
wherby the King by Tudors name
132 in. Eng'land here hath end.

but left no
issue.

Plantaginett ffirst Tudor was

named Elizabeth ;
ElKzabeth Last Tudor was,
136 the gi'eatest Queene on Eai-th.

The first and
last Tudors
were
Elizabeths.

This Tudor & Plantaginett,

by yeelding vnto death,
haue made steward now the greates[t] Kwr/
140 that is now vpon the earth.

A Stewart
now reigns.

to speake of the 7 Henery I must,

whose grace gaue IFree consent
to haue his daughters marryed both
144 to kings of his descent.

Homy VII.

married his
eldest
daughter to

his Eldest daughter Margarett

was made great Scottlands Queene,
as wise, as ffaire, as vertuous,
148 as euer^ was Ladye scene.

the King of
Scotland,

of this faire (Queene our royall King

by Lineall course descended,
w/ii:'ch weareth now the Imperyall crown e,
152 w/ii'ch god now still defendeth.

and James
is her
descendant.

* Only one stroke for the u in the MS. — F.

318

WHITE ROSE AND RED.

Henry's

second

daughter

first

mari'ied the

King of

France,

and then the
Duke of
Suffolk.

his second daughter, Marje called,

as Princelye by degree,
was by her ffatlier worthy thought
156 the Queene of ffrance to bee ;

& after to the Duke of Sufibllke

was made a Noble wifFe ;
& in this ffamous English court
160 shee led a virtuous liffe.

Henry VII.
and his
Queen
rejoiced ;

but the
Queen

proved with
child,

went to the
Tower of
London,

and died
there

thus Henery & his louely Queene

reioced to see that day,
to haue their Children thus advancet
164 to honors euery way,

■which, purchased pleasure & content

with many a yeeres delight,
till sad mischance by cruell death
168 procured them both a spighte.

this worthy Queene, this gracyous dame,

this mother meeke and mild,
to add more number to their loyes,
172 againe proued bigg with child ;

wheratt the ^ing reioced much,
& against thai carefull hower
he lodged his deere & louelye Queene
176 in Londons stately Tower.

which Tower proued ifatall once

to Princes of degree ;
itt proued ffatall to this Queene,
180 for therin died shee,

in Child bed [she] lost he[r] sweet liffe,

her liffe estemed soe deere,
■which had beene Englands Louely Queene
1 84 many a happy yeere.

WHITE EOSE AND RED.

319

thcrfore the JsUng was greeued sore,
& many montlies did mourne,

& wept & sighet, & said " like lier
lie cold not ffind out one ;

Henry
mourned,

" nor none he wold in ffancy chnse

to make his wedded wifFe,
but a widdower he wold remaine
192 the remnant of his liffe."

and vovred

to remain a
widower.

his latter dayes he spent in peace

& qiiiettnesse of mind,
like K-ing & Queene as these 2 were,
196 the world can hardlye fl&nd !

Two like
these can
scarce be
found.

yett such a K.ing as now wee haue,

& such a Queene wee had,
who hath heauenly powers from aboue,
200 & giusts ' as the 2 hadd.

God saue our Prince, & ^Ing & Land,

& send them long to raigine !
in health, in welth, in quietnesse,
204 amongst vs to remaine ! ffins.

Grod bless
our King
and land !

? ghosts, spirits ; or miswritten for giufts. — F.

320

93di m|) mum.'

The Folio version of this song is here printed in its integrity for
the first time ; for in the copy given in the Reliques, " the
corruptions " " are removed by the assistance of the Scottish edi-
tion " — that in Eamsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. Our readers will
not be sorry to see these " corruptions," They give, indeed, a
somewhat different turn to the piece. Whereas in the ordinary
version, the temptation against which the good man is warned
is vaguely " pride," it takes in the Folio MS. a more definite
shape. He is tempted to abandon his agricultural life and turn
courtier. He vows :

I'll go find the court within,

I'll no longer lend nor borrow,
I'll go find the court within,

For I'll have a new cloak about me.

Bell, his wife, rejoins :

— good husband, follow my counsel now :
Forsake the court and follow the plough.
Man, take thy old coat about thee.

This definiteness inclines us to believe that this version is older
than the current one. The poem naturally grew vaguer as it
grew generally popular.

That it enjoyed an extensive popularity is shown by the
appearance of one of its verses in Othello, and the delight with

' This Song is in Ramsay's Tea-table This seems to have been strip'd of its

Miscellany, p. 105, [1753]. The printed Scottisms by some English hand: ■whivh

copy is much bettor than this, if it has is observable of some other in this

not had some modern Improvements. Collection. — P.

BELL MY WIFFE. 321

which Cassio hears lago troll it out. " ' Fore God, an excellent
song," says the lieutenant of " And let the canakin clink, clink;"
and of " King Stephen was a worthy peer," " Why, this is a more
exquisite song than the other."

The dialect in which it is written, and the general cha-
racter of the piece — its scenery, its economy, its canniness
— clearly imply a northern origin. As to the time at
which it was written, all that can be said is, that it clearly
reflects an age of social disturbance and alteration — an age
growing " so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so
near the heel of the courtier he galls his kibe." The piece is
something more than a mere humorous domestic altercation as
to the replenishing of a husband's wardrobe. It is, in fact, a
controversy between the spirits of Social Ee volution and Social
Conservatism. The man is anxious to better himself, no longer
content to tend cows and drive the plough ; his neighbours are
rising and advancing around him ; the clown is not now distin-
guishable from the gentleman. The old arrangements have had
their day. Metaphorically, the old scarlet cloak, which some
four-and-forty years ago was so satisfactory, and kept out so
well the wind and rain, is now but a " sorry clout," looks right
mean and shabby among the spruce black, green, yellow, blue
garments that flaunt around it, and must certainly be cast off
for something new and fashionable. In answer to all these
grumblings, the other reminds him how well their old life has
suited them, how their employments (though humble) have been
sufficient for their needs, how they have lived and loved to-
gether for many a long year and been blessed with many
children and the happiness of seeing them grow up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord, how Eoyalty had contented
itself with the smallest of tailor's bills and yet thought that
excessive, and, generally, how pride undermines a country. Her
advice is, that he should not disquiet himself with efforts to rise

322 BELL MY WIFFE.

in the world, but should rest content with the state wherein he
is. The goodman, weary of controversy, lets his wife's counsel
prevail. He sees, in the version now given (the ordinary form
of the last verse is much less striking), what his wife cannot
see — that is, how times have altered ; but he consents to acqui-
esce in his present position — drjaaav rpdirs^av alviaai —

Bell my wife ! -why dost thou flyte ?

Now is now, and then was then ;
We will live now obedient life,

Thou the woman and I the man.
* It's not for a man with a woman to threap

Unless he first gives over the plea.
We will live now as we began,

And I'll have mine old cloak about me.

As to the author, nothing is known. Undoubtedly he was one
who had noted the signs of his times. He would seem to
have sympathised with those who regarded the social changes
transpiring as dangerous and to be deprecated. To us he is a
mere voice crying.

"This

& fFrost itt fFreeseth on euery hill,

It freezes i HIS winters weatlier itt waxeth cold, rm°-e29n

hard, "-^ " ■"

& Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold
cattle are 4 thai all our cattell are like to spill.

likely to die. -r. n i -m

Bell ' my wiflfe, suee ^ loues noe strife.

My wife "^ ' '

Boll says she savd vnto my quietlye,^

" Get up and _ •' J l j ^

save the ' y'i&q yp & g^ue Cow crumbockes liffe !

cow s life. •■■ '

cloak on'"°^*^ 8 man ! put thine old cloake about thee ! '

" steady, * " Bell my wiffe ! why dost thou fflyte ^ ?

wife. My "^ / , •'

cloak's very thou kens my cloake is verry thin ;

' Then [Bell]. — P. seems necessary to support the dialogue.

^ who. — P. p.

3 to me right hastily.— P. a A.-S. flitcm, to strive, quarrel.— F.

" This stanza not in print :— and yet

BELL MY WIFFE.

323

itt is soe sore oner worne,

a cricke ^ theron cannott rann :

He goe ffind tlie court w/tliin,
He noe longer lend nor borrow ;

lie goe ffind tho court - w/tliin,

for He liaue a new cloake about me."

I shall get a
new one."

" Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe,

sbee has alwayes beene good to the pale,
shee has helpt vs to butter & cheese, I trow,

& other things shee will not fayle ;
for I wold be loth to see her pine ;

therfore, good husband, ifoUow my councell now,
forsake the court & follow the ploughe ;

man ! take thine old coate about thee ! "

" The cow's
a good cow,

don't let he
die ;

put your
old coat on.'

3 " My cloake itt was a verry good cloake,

it hath beene alwayes good to the weare,
itt hath cost mee many a groat,

I have had itt this 44 yeere ;
sometime itt was of the cloth in graine,^

itt is now but a sigh ^ clout, as you may see ;
It will neither hold out winde nor raine ;

& He haue a new kloake ^ about mee."

"I've had my
cloak foi-ty-
four years,

and mean to
get a new
one."

" It is 44 yeeres agoe

since the one of vs the other did ken,
& wee haue had betwixt vs both,
36 children either nine or ten ;

" Yes, we've

been

together

forty-four

years.

' Cricke, most probably an old word
for a louse. Jamieson. Compare the
description of Avarice in Langlande's
Vision of Piers Ploughman, Passus V.
1. 107-113, p. 58, Vernon Text, ed. Skeat:

} enne com Couetyse . . .
In A toren Tabert of twelue Wynter Age.
But 3if a lous cou);e lepe, I con hit not
I-lcue

Heo scholde wandre on ]>z.t walk, hit

was so l^red-bare. — F.

2 Only half the u in the MS.— F.

^ This Stanza is very different from
that in print. — P.

* Fr. Cramoisi : m. crimson colour.
Sot en cramoisi. An Asse in graine.
Cotgrave. — F.

* ? sorry, miserable. — F.

* ? a c made over the first k in the
MS.— F.

324

BELL MY WIFFE.

and brought
tx;n children
lip.

Don't be
proud ; put
your old
cloak on."

" Old times
fire old ; all
people dress
line now,

and I'll have

a new cloak . -

too." 48

" King
Harry
thought his
breeches too
dear at 5s.

Don't be
proud ; put
your old
cloak on."

" Well, it's
no good

for a man to
dispute with
his wife.

I will put my
old cloak
on."

wee haue brought them vp to women & men
in the feare of god I trow they bee ;

& why wilt thou thy selfe misken ?

man ! take thine old cloake about thee ! "

" Bell my wiffe ! why doest thou flyte ?

now is nowe, & then was then ;
seeke all the world now throughout,

thou kens not Clownes from gentlemen ;
they are cladd in blacke, greene, yellow, & blew,'

soe ffarr aboue their owne degree ;
once in my liffe lie take a vew,^

ffor lie haue a new cloake about mee."

" King Harry was a verry good K-^ing ;]

I trow his hose cost but a Crowne ;
he thought them 12'! ouer to deere,

therfore he called the taylor Clowne.
he was King & wore the Crowne,

& thouse but of a low degree ;
itts pride that putts this cum try e doA\Tie ;

man ! put thye old Cloake about thee !

3 " Bell my wiffe ! why dost thou fflyte ?

now is now, & then was then ;
wee will liue now obedyent liffe,

thou the woman, & I the man.
itts not ffor a man with a woman to threape *

vnlesse he fSrst g-iue ouer the play ;
wee will liue noue ^ as wee began,

and lie haue mine old Cloake abaut me."
ffins.

' Some letter marked out following the
b in the MS.— F.

^ ? MS. tew, a rope (or line) : Nares.
I'll give myself some rope, license. — F.

^ Different from the print : as indeed

is almost every Line of the whole. — P.

* A.-S. \>rcapian, to threap, reprove,
afflict. Bosworth. — F.

» ? MS. ' none ' for '• on '.— F. Better
' now' ; compare 1. 58, 59. — H.

325

I- line tofttre : i lone :

The affected, strained style of this piece tells pretty clearly to
what period it belongs. "True conceit be still my feeding,"
says the lover; so evidently says this author too. His is the
ars ostentandi artera.

VV ITH my hart my lone was nesled ^

into the sonne of happynesse ; ^
flfrom m.y lone my liffe was rested •'

into a world of heaninesse ;
O lett my lone my liffe remaine,^
since I lone not where I wold.^

[page 292]

I WM happy
with my
love, and
then was
torn from
her.

Darksome distance doth devyde vs,
8 ffarr ffrom thee I mnst remaine ;

dismall planetts still doth ^ gnide vs,
ffearing wee shold meete againe ;

bnt firoward ffortnne once remoned,^
12 then will I hue where I wold.^

We are apart
now.

but Fortune
may change,
and join us.

Iff I send them, doe not snspect mee ;

bnt if I come, then am I seene ;
let thy wisdome ^ soe direct mee

tliai I may blind Argns eyen !
for my tme hart shall nener remon[e,]
tho I hne not where I lone.

Do not
snspect rae.

though I am
away from
yon.

' Eead nested, to rhyme with rested.
-Skeat.
^ In a summe of happinesse. — P.

* wrested. — F.

* let me soon from life remove. — P.

* Since I live not where I love. — P.
Since I live not where I would

faine. — H.

* do. — P. ' remove. — P.
"love. — P. ^ MS. wisdone. — F.

326

I LIUE WHERE I LOUE.

What grief
have I
suffered !

•24

Sweete ! what greeflfe haue I sustained
in the accomplishing my desires ! '

my affections are not ffained,
tho my wish be nere the nere.^

if wishes wold substantial! joroue,

then wold I Hue where I loue.

With
bleeding
heart, I pray

to be with
thee again.

True conceit be still my feeding,
& the ffood being soe ^ conceipted,

whilest my hart for thee lyes bleeding,
sunne & heauens to be intreated ;

perhaps my orisons then may moue,

thai I may Hue where I loue.

When
heaven
grants this,

we'll smile
at past
troubles.

Loue & ffaction still agreeing,

by the consent of heauens electyon,

where wee both may haue our being,
vnderneath the heauens protectyon,

& smiling att our sorrowes past,

wee shall enioye "* our wishe att Last.

ffins.

' To accomplisli my desire. — P.

^ Higher. — P.

^ After this is written contented, with

the tente only marked out, then follows
cciftcd. — F.

* may enjoy. — P.

327

This touching ballad is unhappily somewhat imperfect in parts ;
and we have not met with any copy elsewhere, with which it
might be collated.

The story would be too painful and disgusting to read, but for
the extreme gentleness of the poor sadly abused lady. This,
while it aggravates our loathing of the monster whose prey she
became, and makes her wrongs the more hideous, yet renders the
tale tolerable. That gleam of light reconciles our eyes to the
Stygian darkness. Otherwise it would be too horrible. We
could not endure even to read of such a fiend as he who appears
in it.

This atrocious ruffian is apparently a Scotchman (so his name
seems to imply, and vv. 69, 92), who concludes a moonlight
meeting with a fond, weak, credulous woman by deliberately
robbing her, not only of her father's gold which she had fetched
at his request, but of every article of dress she had on, in spite
of her piteous pleadings, and this with brutal declarations that
the spoil is intended for his own lady who dwells in a far
country, till at last remains to her only such covering as nature
gave — her long flowing hair. Then he gives the poor wretched
creature the choice of dying there and then on his sword's point,
or going home as she was. She goes home, to be greeted by her
father's curse, and die of a broken heart at his door. The story
is too frightful to be told as a reality ; it is told as a dream.

> Shewing his disloyalty to an Earl's daughter. This Song in some Places is
imperfect. — P.

328

YODNGE ANDREW.

I dreamt of

j-oung

Andrew.

A lady tells
him she's
loved him
long.

He kisses
her.

She reminds
him of his
promise to
marry her.

He says he'll

do it

if she brings

him her

father's

gold.

She gets her

father's 5001.
and jewels,

and takes
them to
young
Andrew.

As : I was cast in my ffirst sleepc,

a clreadfFull drauglit ^ in my mind I drew ;

ffor I was dreamed of one ^ yong man,
some men called him yonge Andrew.

the moone shone bright, & itt cast a ffayre light ;

sayes shee, " welcome, my honey, my hart, & my
sweete !
for I hane loued thee this 7 long yeere,

& onr chance itt was wee cold nener meete."

then he tooke her in ^is armes 2,

& k[i]ssed her both cheeke & chin ;
& 2^? or 3^.*^ he pleased this may ^

before they tow did pai't in twinn ;

sales, " now, good Sir, you haue had yo?tr will,

you can demand no more of mee ;
Good Sir, Remember what you said before,'*

& goe to the church & marry mee."

" ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold ;
[Till I am got to my own country ^]
goe home & fett ^ thy fathers redd gold,
20 & He goe to the church & marry thee."

this Ladye is gone to her ffathers hall,

& well she knew where his red gold Lay,
"^ and counted fforth 5 hundred pound
24 besides all other luells & chaines,

& brought itt all to younge Andrew ;
itt was well counted vpon his knee,
then he tooke her by the Lillye white hand,
28 & led her vp to one ® hill soe hye ;

' sketch, picture. — F.

^ a.— P.

' maid. — P.

^ you swore. — P.

' Percy's line. — F.

« fet. Vid. fol. 514. Note.-

' she.— P.

" a.— P.

YOUNGE ANDREW.

329

shee had vpon ^ a gowne of blacke veluett ; —
a pittyflfull sight after jee shall see ; —

" put of thy clothes, bonny wenche," he sayes,
" for noe fFoote further thoust a'ang; w/th mee."

He makes
her take off

but then shee put of her gowne of veluett ^

' with many a salt teare from her eye,
And in a kirtle of ffine ■* treaden silke [page 293]

36 shee stood beffore young Andrews eye.

sais, " o put off ^ thy kirtle of silke ;

ffor some & all shall goe with mee :
& to my owne Lady I must itt beare,
40 who ^ I must needs loue better then thee."

then shee put of her kirtle of silke

with "^ many a salt teare still fFrom her eye ;
in a peticoate of Scarlett redd
44 shee stood before young Andrewes eye.

sales, " o put of ^ thy peticoate ;

for some & all of itt shall goe with mee ;
& to my owne Lady I will itt beare,
48 w/a'ch dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye."

but then shee put of her peticoate

with many a salt teare still from her eye ;
& in a smocke of braue white silke
52 shee stood before young Andrews eye.

sales, " o put of ^ thy smocke of silke ;

for some & all shall goe w/th mee ;
vnto my owne Ladye I will it beare,
56 thai dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye."

her velvet
gowu,

her silken
kirtle,

petticoat.

her white
silk smock

' vp bracketted for omission by P.

* velvet gown. — P.

^ while many . . . ran. — P.

* a fine kirtle. — P. ? breadon,

VOL. II.

braided. — F.
^ Put off, put off.— P.
" whom.— P.
' while .... ran from.— P.

330

YOUNGE ANDREW.

(though she
prays to keep
it),

sayes,^ " o remember, young Andrew !

once of a woman you were borne ;
& fFor thai birth thai Marye bore,

I pray you let my smocke be vpon ! '

and her head

Then he asks
her whether

she'll die on
his sword or
go naked
home.

She chooses

walking
naked home.

but warns
young

Andrew tliat
her father
will hang
him if he
catches him.

and her
brothers will
take his life.

" yes, fFayre Ladye, I know itt well ;

once, of a woman I was borne ;
yett ffor noe birtli thai Mary bore,
64 thy smocke shall not be left here vpon."

but then shee put of her head geere £&ne ;

shee hadd billaments ^ worth a 100" ;
the hayre thai was vpon this bony wench head,"'
68 couered her bodye downe to the ground.

then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,

& held itt there in his owne right hand ; ■*
sales, " whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords
point, Ladye,
72 or thow wilt ^ goe naked home againe ? "

" my liffe is sweet, then S^'r," said shee,

" therfore I pray you leaue mee wt'th mine ;
before I wold dye on yoztr swords point,
76 I had rather goe naked home againe.

"my ffather," shee sayes, " is a right good Erie

as any remaines in his countrye ;
if euer he doe jouv body take,
80 JOUV sure to fflower a gallow tree ;

" & I haue 7 brethren," shee sayes, ^

" & they are all hardy men & bold ;
gifi" euer the doe yo?(r body take,
84 you must neuer gang quicke ouer the mold."

' she sayes. — P.

^ habillimonts, dress, cloaths. — P.

^ but . . . upon her head.— P.

■* And there he held it forth amaine.
-P. 5 wilt thou.— P.

'^ And seven brethren I have she says.
-P.

YOUNGE ANDREW.

331

" if jour fFatlier be a riglit good Erie

as any remaines in his owne countrye,
tush ! he shall neuer my body take,
88 He gang soe ffast ouer • the sea !

"if you haue 7 brethren," he sayes,

" if they be neuer soe hardy or bold ;.
tush ! they shall neuer my body take ;
9-2 lie gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold ! "

Young

Andrew saj's
he'll

sail from her
father,

and take
refuge ia
Scotland
from her
brothers.

Now this Ladye is gone to her fathers hall

when euery body their rest did take ;
but the Erie which, was her ffather [dear] ^
9G lay waken for his deere daughters sake.

The lady
goes home,

" but who is tJiat,^' her ffather can say,^

" that soe priuilye knowes that pinn * ? "
" its Hellen, jour owne deere daughter, ffather ^ !
100 I pray you rise and lett me in."

her father
hears her,

^ "noe, by my hood^ ! " q?(oth her ffather then,
" my [house] thoust ^ neuer come within,
without I had my red gold againe."

but won't let
her in till
she brings
back hi3
gold.

104 " nay, jour gold is gone, ffather ! " said shec.^
" then naked thou came into this world,
and naked thou shalt returne againe."

She says it's
gone.

"nay ! god fforgaue his death, father ! " shee sayes,
108 " & soe I hope you will doe mee."

" away, away, thou cursed woman ! He curses

" I pray god an ill death thou may dye! " [page 294]

' hence o're. — P,
* dear. — P.
' to say. — P.

■■ piun. Compare vol. i. p. 249, 1. 38,
lie thirled ^-pon a pinn.' — P.
^ here. — P.

* no, no, I will not rise. — P.
■> Eood.— P.

* my House thou. — P.

' pardon, pardon me, she says,
Por all your rod gold it is tacn.-

332

YOUNGE ANDREW.

Her heart
bursts, and
she falls
dead.

shee stood soe long quacking on the ground
112 till ^ lier liart itt burst ^ in three,

& then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond ;
& this was the end of this bonny Ladye.

In the

morning her
father

sees her
corpse.

ithe raorning when her ffather gott ^ vpp,
116 a pittyfFull sight there he might see ^ ;

his owne deere daughter was dead^ without'' Clothes !
they teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye ;

He curses
his love of
gold,

sais, " fye of gold, and ffye of fiee ! "^
120 for I sett soe much by my red gold

that now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee ! "

and fades as
a flower in
frost.

but after ^ this time he neere dought ^ good day,
but asi° flowers doth fade in the ffrost,
124 soe he did wast & weare away.

As to young
Andrew,

but let vs leaue talking of this Ladye,

& talke some more of young Andi'ew,!'
flfor ffalse he was to this bonny Ladye ;
128 more pitty that itt had ^'^ not beene true.

he hadn't
gone half a
mile into
Wales

he was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,'^

or halfe a mile into the hart of wales,
but there they cought him by such a braue wyk
1.32 that hee must come to tell noe more tales.

' until.— P.
^ truly.— P.
^ rose. — P.

* might he see. — P.

* there lay dead. — P.

* any follows in the MS., and is
crossed out. — F.

' fye fye now on my gold

fye on gold & fye on fee. — P.
® Thus having lost his daughter fair,

He after &c.— P.
" dought — A.-S. dugan, valore, hinc
dohtig Sax. i. e. douglity, fortis, streuus,
Gloss, ad Gr. Doug! — P.

•» [insert] the.— P.

" And once more tell of yozmg An-
drew. — P.
»2 he had.— P.

" He scarse was from this Lady gone,
or
As he did from this Lady go

And thro' the forest past his way
A furious wolf did him beset

And there this peijured knight
did slay. — P.
And tow'rd the woods had gang'd
away. — P.

TOUNGE ANDREW.

333

ffuU soone a wolfe did of him smell,
& shee came roaring like a beare,
& gaping like a ffeend of hell ;

before a
wolf
attacked
him,

136 soe they ffought together like 2 Lyons [there],'
& fire betweene them 2 glashet out ;
the raught eche other such a great rappe,

thai there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott. killed him,

140 but ^ now young Andrew he is dead ;

but he was neuer buryed vnder mold ;
for ther as the wolfe devoured him,
there ^ lyes all this great erles gold.

ffins.

and eat him
up.

' Percy has added there, and marked
the line as part of the verse above. — F.

2 And.— P.

s And there &c.— P.

Percy has marked in red ink brackets,
for omission, the following words or parts
of them :

as, 1. 142.

u, o/" neuer, 1. 141.

father, 1. 107.

but, 1. 97.

deere, 1. 96.

in o/into, 1. 92.

with, 1. 74.

point, Ladye, 1. 71.

this bony wench, 1. 67.

yp o/vpon, 1. 64, 60, 29.
In line 8 he marks cold neuer to be
transposed to neuer cold. In other poems
I have not noticed these red ink marks.
They would have swelled tlio notes too
much, and there are plenty of Percy's
alterations already.

334

" A JIG," says Nares, " meant anciently not only a merry dance,
but merriment and humour in writing, and particularly a ballad.
Thus when Polonius objects to the Player's speech, Hamlet
sarcastically observes,

He's for ?iji{jg or a talo of bawdry or he sleeps. — (Haml. ii. 2.)

He does not mean a dance (which then players did not under-
take), but ludicrous dialogue or a ballad. ... In the Harleian
collection of old ballads are many under the title of jigs ; as
' A Northern Jige, called Daintie, come thou to me,' ' A merry
new Jigge or the pleasant Wooing between Kit and Pegge,' &c.
So in the Fatal Contract by Hemmings,

AVe'll hear yowr jigg :
How is your ballad titled ? — (Act iv. sc. 4.)

Thus :

A small matter ! you'll find it worth Meg of Westminster, although it be but a
bare jig.— (Hog hath lost, &c. 0. PI. vi. 385.)

It appears that this jig was a ballad."

The following specimen of the Jig Dialogical is a sort of
vidgar reproduction of the Nut-Brown Maid. The mode and
circumstances of life depicted in the original ballad had passed out
of date ; the old order had given place to a new. A new audience —
new chronologically, new socially — demanded a new version — a
"people's edition," so to speak. The lover who here tests his
mistress is no knight, but a common soldier; the mistress is
no highborn lady, but a common woman. And these personal
changes are characteristic of the others which the old ballad has
undergone, to take its present shape. No such transmutations

' Pepys, iv. 42. A Poetical Dialogue between a Soldier & his Mistress, not un-
like the Nut-brown Maid. — P.

A JiaGE.

335

are likely to be, from a literary point of view, successful. This
one is not. But the beauty of the original is too great to be
altogether destroyed, however rude the hands that handle it.
Something of the charm of the Nat-Broivn Maid lingers around
this Jig.

Other handlers of the old ballad turned it to a religious sense.
See the New Nothvoivne Mayd upon the Passion of Christ in
Mr. Hazlitt's Early Popular Poetry of England.

" MaRGRETT, my sweetest margett ! I must goe !
m.ost dere to mee thai neuei* ^ may be see ;
as ffortune willes, I cannott itt deny."
4 "then know thy loue, thy Margarett, shee must dye."

" Not ffor the gokl that euer Croessus hadd,
wold I once^ see thy sweetest lookes see fade ;
nor 3 ffor all that my eyes did euer ■* see,
8 wold I once part thy sweetest loue from mee ;

"The King comands, & I must to the warres."
"thers ^ others more enow to end those cares."
" but I am one appointed ffor to goe,
12 & I dare not ffor my liffe once say noe,"

" marry mee, & you may stay att home !
ffull 30 weekes you know tJiat I am gone.^"
" theres time enough ; another ffather take ;
heele loue thee well, & not thy child forsake."

" And haue I doted ouer thy sweetest fface ?
& dost infring the things I haue in chase,
thy ffaith, I meane ? but I will wend with thee."
" itt is to ffar ffor Pegg to goe with mee."

Margaret,
I must leave
you.

" Then I'll
die."

Not for the
world would
I make you
sad,

but I must
to the wars.

" Marry mc
and stay at
home 1 "

Get another
father for
your child.

"No, I love
you

and will go
with you.

' i.e. never hereafter. — H.
2 There is a murk like an i undotted
before the o. — F.
^ nor yet. — P.

* Only half the ti or e in the MS.— F.

= There's.— P.

" i. e. with Child. — P.

336

A JIGGE.

I'H carry
your sworI,

" I will goo w/tli thee, my lone, botli night and day,
& I will beare thy sword like lakyney ; Lead the way ! " '
" but wee must ryde, & will you ffollow then
24 amongst a troope of vs tlmifi ^ armed men ? "

clean your
horse,

- " He beare thy Lance, & grinde thy stirropp too,
He rub thy horsse, & more then that He doo."
" but Margretts ffingars, they be all to ffine
28 to stand & waite when shee shall see mee dine,"

wait on you, " He See you dine, & wayte still att jour backe,

He giue you wine or any thing you Lacke."
" but youle repine when you shall see mee haue
32 a dainty wench that is both ffine & braue."

love your
wench.

" He love thy wench, my sweetest loue, I vow, [page 29r.]
He watch the time when shee may pleasure you ! "
" but you will greeue to see vs lye in bedd ;
36 & you must watch still in anothers steede."

see you sleep
with her.

" He watch my loue to see you take yo?ir rest ;
& when you sleepe, then shall I thinke me blest."
" the time will come, deliuered you must bee ;
40 then in the campe you will discredditt mee." '

" He goe fFrom thee befFor that time shalbee ;

when all his well, my loue againe He see."

" all Avill not serue, fFor Margarett may not goe ;

and leave
you before
my own
baby
comes."
You mustn't

go with me. 44 then doe resolue, my loue, what else to doe.

" Then I'll
die, loving
ynu still."'
No, I'll stop
with you,

" Must I not goe ? why then, sweete loue, adew !
needs must I dye, but yet in dying trew! "
" a ! stay ^ my loue ! I loue my Margarett well,
48 & heere I wow ■* with Margarett still to dwell ! "

' along the way. — P.
* all.— P.

3 Ah! stay.— P.
* TOW. — P.

A JIGGE. 337

" Giue me thy hand ! thy Margarett Hues againe ! "
" heeres ^ my hand ! He neuer breed
I kisse my lone in token tliai is see ;

" heeres ^ my hand ! He neuer breed thee paine ! ^"!^ '^°'^^'^

'' -i^ pam you.

We'll be

ffins.

52 wee will be wedd : come, Margarett, let vs goe." ^,e

' here is. — P.

338

Ctjlamore : '

[In Six Parts.— P.]

This romance has been printed among the Thornton Romances
for the Camden Society from a MS. in the Public Library of
Cambridge (Ff. ii. 38), the copies of it and Degrevant made by
Thornton " unfortunately being imperfect." There is another
copy among the MSS. Cotton (Calig. A. 11). The Percy Folio
copy is here printed for the first time : " A single leaf of another
early copy," as Mr. Halliwell, the editor of the Thornton Ro-
mances, informs us, " is preserved in a MS. belonging to Lord
Francis Egerton. It was printed at Edinburgh in 1508 by
Walter Chapman, and subsequently at London by Copland and
Walley. Shakespeare may possibly have had this hero in his
mind when he calls one of his characters by his name in the
Two Gentlemen of Verona : ' What think'st thou of the fair Sir
Eglamore?' The name, however, appears to have passed into
a kind of proverb. So in Dekker's Satiromastix : ' Adieu, Sir
Eglamore ! adieu, lute-string, curtain-rod, goose-quill ! ' The
name of Torrent of Portugal is partly founded upon the story
related in Sir Eglamore. The names are changed, but the re-
semblance is too striking to have been the result of chance. The
tieachery of the sovereign, the prowess of the knight, the indis-
cretions and misfortunes of the lady, and the happy conclusions

' The readings marked T. are from Camden Society in 1844. Very few of

the Thornton MS., ' Sir Eglamour of the very many differences between the

Artois' (MS. Syr Egyllamowre of Artas) two texts are given,-:^F.
as edited by Mr. Halliwell for the

EGLAMORE. 339

of her misfortunes — these form the leading incidents of each
romance. Torrent of Portugal is preserved in an unique manu-
script of the fifteenth century, in the Chetham Library at
Manchester :

Here bygynneth a good tale
Of Torrente of Portingale :

and although somewhat disfigured by the errors of the scribe,
contains much that is curious and valuable. As this poetical
tale has recently been published, there is no necessity for proving
in this place a similarity that will be at once detected by the
reader ; but there is perhaps a secret history attached to the
source of these romances that remains to be unravelled."

Ellis makes the abstract he gives of Eglamore from the copy
printed by Walley. All at all important differences between the
Thornton copy and ours are recorded by Mr. Furnivall in the
notes.

The romance is certainly of more than usual merit — less prolix
and garrulous, or rather of more interesting garrulity. Many of
its " positions " are indeed of the kind commonest in romantic
literature, as the passage of the squire's love for his lord's
daughter, the combat with the giant, the unconsummated
marriage of a son and his mother. No one of them perhaps
can be pronounced novel. The stories of a woman's exposure
to the mercy of the winds and seas, and of the carrying off of
her son by a great bird, are well known elsewhere — in Chaucer's
Man of Laiv's Tale, and among the legends of the house of
Stanley — and are undoubtedly of extreme antiquity. But there
are other charms besides novelty of incident. These can make
old things new, can endow with spirit and vigour the form that
is worn and wasted. The minstrel who wrote, or rather trans-
lated, this piece, if a minstrel he was, as verses 1227-9 might
suggest, told an old tale freshly, — a tale of love much crossed
and thwarted, but prosperous in the end — of treachery, potent

340 EGLAMORE.

and prevailing for a while, but at last shown futile and fatal —
of strange partings and yet stranger meetings.

Full true it is, by god in heaven,
That men meet at unset steven.

Thrice old themes these ; but in the hands of this romance-writer
made juvenescent.

Such an union between mother and son as that which occurs

in Eglamore is a very favourite arrangement with the old

romance-writers. It immediately precedes and generally brings

about the avajvcofjiats. Thus the extremest alarm and horror

immediately introduce the extremest delight. Fear and joy are

brought into the closest juxtaposition. The romance-writer could

conceive of no more terrible disturbance and overthrow of the

order of nature than that fearful conversion of a mother into a

wife, a son into a husband — that ruin of the most beautiful of

the domestic relations. Though bold enough to describe it as

possible, and, indeed, imminent, he never dares to let it actually

come to pass. He never lets the ghastly shade become a living

thing. The Grreek poets too regarded this same connection as

the culminating horror. In their eyes, too, conflicts between

father and son, love other than pious between son and mother,

appeared the most frightful of all possible frightfulnesses. But

they went further than the old romance-writers. They were not

content with the apprehension ; they did not shrink from the act.

What in the romances is only threatened, is in the Greek legend

perpetrated. Hideous possibilities become there yet more hideous

realities. Eve in the one case only fingers the apple ; in the

other she plucks and eats it. Medieval feeling was the more

delicate and sensitive in this respect. Its poet ever averts the

horrible catastrophe. As the storm is on the point of bursting,

and the nymphs with wild frantic faces stand ready to " shriek

on the mountain," suddenly the sky clears, there are pious

embracings, the domestic sanctities are preserved and ratified.

EGLAMORE.

341

[Part I.]

[How Eglamore loved Christabell, and undertook three Deeds of Arms to ■win her.]

1
iESUS : Christ, heauen king!
grant vs all his cleere blessinge,
& builde vs [in] ^ his bower ^ !
4 & giue them [ioye] ^ that will heare
of Elders that before vs were,

that lined in great honor.*
I will tell you of a Knight
8 that was both ^ hardye & wight,
& stiffe in enerye stower;
& wher any deeds of armes were,
hee wan the prize with sheeld & speare,
) 2 & euer he was the fflower.

Christ, bless

and give
joy to those
that love old
heroes I

I'll teU you
of a hardy
knight

who always
won the
prize.

In Artoys the 'Knight was borne,
& his fFather him beforne ;

listen ; I will you say.^
Sir Prinsamoure the Erie hight ;
& Eglamore the hight [the] Knight ^

tliat curteous was alway ;
& he was for a man ^ verament,
with the Erie was he bent,^

to none he wold say nay.^*^

He was born
in Artoys,

his name
was
Eglamore ;

he was a
man,
and never
refused a
fight.

' in.— T. in. — P. builde, shelter, as
in vol. i. p. 27, 1. 11.— F.
' boure. — P.
' yoye.— T. joye.— P.

* honoure. — P.

^ boldo.— P. hardy.— T.

* Percy marks to come after this :

For that he was a man full boldc
With the Eric was ho liolde
lu housholde nyght & day.

The Thornton MS. has :

To dedes of armes he js wente,

Wyth the Erie of Ai'tas he ys lente.

He faylyth hym not nyght nor daye.

' Sir Eglam"-" tlian hyght the knyght.
— P. Syr Egyllamowre men calle the
kny^t.— T.

* And for he was a man. — P.

8 lente.— P. he ys lente.— T.

'" To no man he wolde. — P. T. has :

Whylle the erlo had him in holde,
Of dedes of armes he was boldo,
For no man seyde ho nay. — F.

342

EGLAMOEE.

The Earl of
Ai'toys
has a lovely
daughter,

Christabell,

Eglamore
loves her,

the Erie had noe Child but one,

a maiden as white as whalles bone,^

that his right heyre shold bee ;
Christabell was the Ladyes name ;
a ifairer maid then shee was ane

was none ^ in christentye.
Cliristabell soe well her bore ;
the Erie loued nothing more

then his daughter ffree ;
soe did tliat gentle knight
that was soe full of might ;

it was the more pittye.

and she
loves him.

Strange
lords come
to woo her.

A tourney is
held,

and

Eglamore
unhorses all
her suitors.

the knight was both hardy & snell,
& knew the ladye loued him well.

listen a while & dwell :
Lords came ffrom many a Land
her to haue, I vnderstand,

With fforce ffold ^ and ffell.
Si'r Prins amour e then did crye
strong lusting & tiirnamentrye ^

for the loue of Christabell.
what man that did her craue,
such stroakes Eglamore him gauc,

that downe rig'ht he fiell.

He opens his
heart to his
chamber-
lain.

to his chamberlaine ^ then gan he saw,*^
" ffrom thee I cann hyde nought away,"
48 (where they did together rest ^ ;)

" ffaire firand, nought to laine,
my councell thou wold not saine ;
On thee is all my trust."

' ivory. — F. as faire. — T.
^ not. — P. Ther was none soche. — T.
^ ferse folke.— T.
* Syr EftyllamowTe he dud to crye
Of dedes of arniys utterly, — T.

[page 29G]
-T.

* squyer, (with altered lines).-
See squier, st. 9. 1. Ill below. — F.

® say. — P.

' rest. — P. Btil altered into rest in
the MS.— F.

EGLAMORE.

343

5-2

"Master," liee said, "per ma fay,
wliat-soeuer you to me say,

I shall itt neuer out cast."
" the Erles daugliter, soe god me sauc,
the loue of lier but thai I liaue,

mjf liffe itt may not Last."

and says he
shall die
■unless he
can win
Chiistabell's
love.

" Master," said tlie young man ffreo,
" you haue told me jouv priuitye ;

I will giue you answers
to this tale : I vnderstand
you are a knight of litle Land,

& much wold haue more ;
If I shold to tliai Ladye goe
& show yoMr hart & loue,

shee lightlye wold let me fare ;
the raan tliat heweth oucr hye,
some chipp ffalleth on his eye ;

thus doth it euer fare.

The cham-
berlain

that

Eglamore is
too poor,

the lady
wouldn't
listen to
him ;

those

hewing too
high get
chips in
their eye.

" remember 'M.aster, of one thing, ^
that shee wold haue both Erie & 'King,

& many a bold Barron alsoe ;
the Ladye will haue none of those,
but in her maidenhead hold ; ^
ffor wist her fiather, by heauen K-imj,
that you were sett on such a thinge,

right deere itt shold be boug-ht.
trow yee shee wold King fforsake,
& such a simple knight take,

but if you haue loued her of old ? "

But yet she
refuses her
rich suitors,

and that
must be for
Eglamore' s
love.

' Syr, than unbe-thanke on thys
thyng.-T.

- 3yt wylle scho not have of thoo,
But in godenos hur holdyth so,

The which y troM'e ys for thy love
and no mo. — T.
T. also transposes the next two
triplets. — F.

344

EGLAMORE.

Moreover,

in deeds of
arms

Eglamore is
worth any
five other
knights.

9-2

the knight answerd flPall mild :
" euer since I was a Child

thou hast beene loued of ^ mee.
in any iusting or any stower,
saw you me haue any dishonor

in battell where I haue bee ? "
" ISTay, Master, att all rights
you are one of the best knights

in all Christentye ;
in deeds of armes, by god aliue,
thy body is worth other 5."

" gramercy, Sir," sayd hee :

Eglamore
goes to his
room,

and prays
God

to give him
Christabcll
as his wife.

100

104

Eglamore sighed, & said noe more,
but to his Chamber gan hee ffare,

that richelye was wrought,
to god his hands he held vp soone,
" LorcZ I " he said, " grant me a boone

as thou on roode me bought !
the Erles daughter, ffaire & ffree,
that shee may my wifFe bee,

ffor shee is most in my thought ;
that I may wed her to my wiffe,
& in loy to lead our liffe ; ^

from care then were I brought."

Next day he

doesn't go
to dine in
Hall.

Christabell
asks where
he is.

108

on the morrow that maiden small
eate wtth her ffather in the hall,

that was soe faire & bright,
all the knights were at meate saue hee
the Ladye said, "for gods pittye!

where is Bir Eglamore my K.night?

' lente wytli.— T.

^ and sothen reches in my life. — T.

EGLAMORE.

345

112

116

liis squier answerd. wt'th heauye cheere,
" he is sicke, & dead ffull neere,

he prayeth you of a sight ;
he is now cast in such a care,
but if he mends not of his fare

he liueth not to nig'ht."

" He is
nearly dead,
and prays to
see you."

the Erie vnto liis daughter spake,
" damsell," he said, " for god sake
hsten vnto mee !
120 after me, doe as I thee hend ; ^
to his chamber see thou wend,

ffor hee was curteous & ffree ;
ffull trulye w/th liis intent,
124 With lusting & in Turnament,
he said vs neuer nay ;
if any deeds of armes were,
he wan the prize with turnay ^ cleere ;
128 our worshippe for euer and aye."

[page 297]

The Earl

chars^es

Christabell

to go and see
Eglamore,

who never
refused a
tourney,

and always
won the
prize.

then after meate thai Ladye gent
did affter her fathers coniandenient,^
shee busked her to wend.
132 forth shee went wd'thouten more,
for nothing wold shee spare,

but went there as hee Lay.^
" Mastei;" said the squier, " be of good cheere,
136 heere cometh the Erles daughter deere,
some words to you to say."

Cliristabell

goes to
Eglamore,

■ After mete do ye as hynde. — T. See
'After meate,' st. 11, 1. 129. But 'after
mo' may mean, by my direction, see 1.
130, though I do not know hend in the
sense of tell, bid. — F.

VOL. II. J

- jiirney. — T.

^ Only half the first n in the MS.— F.

■* T. puts in three lines in which Chris-
tabell asks the squire how Eglamore is.
— F.

346

EGLAMORE.

and asks
how he is.

" Dying for
love of you.''

" I'm very
sorry to
grieve you.'

" Then be
my wife."

& then said that Ladye bright,
" how fareth Sir Eglamore my 'K.niglii,
140 thai is a man right fFaire ? "

" forsoothe, Ladye, as you may see,
with woe I am bound for the loue of yee,
in longing & in care."
144 " S/r," shee said, "by gods pittye,
if you be agrreeued ' ffor mee,

itt wold greeue me full sore !"
" damsell, if I might turne to liffe,
148 I wold haue you to my wiffe,
if itt yoMr will were."

" You're a

noble
knight,

and manful
in fight.

Ask my
father,

and if he
agrees.

I will."

" Sir," shee said, " soe mote I thee,
you are a Noble K.night and ffree,
152 & come of gentle blood ;

a manfull man you are in ifeild
to win the gree wi'th speare & sheeld
nobly by the roode ;
156 Sir, att my ffather read you witt,^
& see what hee will say to itt ;

or if his will bee good,
& if that hee be att assent,
160 as I am true Ladie & gent,
my mil it shalbe good."

Eglamore is
in bliss,

the 'K.night desired noe other ^ blisse
when he had gotten his grantesse,^
164 but made royall ^ cheere ;
he comanded a Sqiuer to goe

' The rr is mueli like u in the MS.— F.

"^ T. makes the lady take the 'Ask
Papa' on herself, and when they are
agreed, she'll not fail Eglamore, — F.

kepte no more. — T.
geton graimt of thys. — T.
hur fulle gode. — T.

EaLAMOKE.

347

168

172

to ffeitch gold, a 100 • or towe,

& giue tlie ^ Maidens cleere.
Sir Eglamore said, "soe taue I blisse !
to yo?<r marriage I giue you this,

ffor yee neuer come heere yore."
the Lady tlien thanked & kissed the K.nigJit ;
shee tooke her leaue anon-right,

" farwell, my true Sonne deere." ^

and^gives
Christabell's
maidens
lOOf.

Christabell
kisses tiim.

then homeward shee tooke the way.^
" welcome ! " sayd the Erie, " in ffay,
176 tell mee how haue yee doone.

say, my daughter as white as any flower,
how fiareth my knight Sir Eglamore ? "
& shee answered him soone:
180 " fforsooth, to mee he hartilye sware
he was amended of his care,

good comfort hath hee tane ;
he told me & my maidens hende,
184 that hee vnto the riuer wold wend
w/th hounds & hawkes rigcht."

goes back to
her father,

and tells him
Sir

Eglamore is
quite well,

and is going

out

hawking.

192

the Erie said, " soe Mote I thee,
with him will I ryde that sight to see,

to make my hart more light." ^
on the morrow, when itt was day,
Sir Eglamore tooke the way

to the riuer ffull right,
the Erie made him redye there,
& both rode to they riuer

Next day
Eglamore

and the Earl
hawk

' and take an liundiird pownd. — T.

2 hur.— T.

' And seyde ' Farewclle my fere.' — T.

— T.

Crystyabelle hath takyn hnr way.

* For comforte of that knyght. — T.

A A 2

348

EGLAMORE.

and are

pleasant
together.

196

to see some ffaire ffliglit.
all tliey day tliej made good cheere :
a wrath began, as you may lieare,

long ere itt was night. ^

But coining

home,

Eglamore

asks if the
Earl will
hear him.

" Certainly,

I like to
hear you :

you're the
best knight
in the land."

"■When ^v^ll
your

daughter be
betrothed ? "

17
as they rode homeward in the way,
Sir Eglamore to the Erie gan say,
200 " My lord, will you now ^ heare ? "
" all ready, Eglamore ; in ffay,
whatsoeuer you to me say,
to me itt is fFuU deere ;
204 fPor why, the doughtyest art thou
that dwelleth in this Land now,

for to beare sheeld & speare."* "
" my Lord," he said, " of charitye,
208 Christabell jour daughter ffree,

when shall shee haue a ffeere ? "

[page 298]

" I know no
one whom
she would
have."

" Give her
to me."

"I will, and
all Artois
too, if you'll
do 3 deeds of
arms for
her."

" Thank
you!

the Erie said, " soe god me saue,
I know noe man that shee wold haue,
212 my daughter faire and cleere."
" now, good Lore?, I you pray,
for I haue serued you many a day,
to giue me her w('thouten nay."
216 the Erie said, "by gods ]Daine,

if thou her winne as I shall saine,

by deeds of armes three,
then shalt thou haue my daughter deere,
220 & all Artois ffarr & neere."

"gramercy. Sir ! " said hee.

' long ere night it were. — P.
^ ye me. — T.

^ Awntiirs ferre or nere. — T.

EGLAMOKE.

349

S^r Eglamore [sware ^], "soe mote I thee,
att my iourney ^ ffaine wold I be ! "
224 right soone he made him. yare.
the Erie said, " here by west
dwelleth a Gyant in a fforrest, —
ffowler neuer saw I ere ; —
228 therin be trees fFaire & ^ long,
3 harts ■* run them ^ amonge,

the fairest that on fFoot gone.
Sir, might yee bring one away,
232 then durst I boldly say

that yee had beene there."

let me go to
work at
once."

The Earl

sets

Eglamore
his first
feat :
to go to a
gianfs
forest,
and fetch
him one o£
three harts
running
about there.

^ " fforsooth," said Eglamore then,
" if that hee be a Christyan man,
236 I shall him neuer fforsake."
the Erie said in good cheere,
" With him shalt thou flight in feere ;
his name is S^r Marroccke."
240 the 'K.night thought on Christabell ;
he swore by him thai harrowed hell,

him wold he neuer fforsake.
" S/r, keepe well my Lady & my Land ! "
244 therto the Erie held vp his hand,
& trothes they did strike.

Eglamore
undertakes
to fetch the
hart,

and fight
the giant
Marrocke.

He commits
Christabell
to her
father's care.

then afterwards, as I you say,
S^r Eglamore tooke the way

' The knyght sweryd.— T.

2 The o looks like a in the MS.— F.

* Cypur trees tliere growc owte. — T.

* The /* is like an I in the MS.— F.
^ Grete hertys there walke. — T.

* T. has for this stanza :

Bo Jhesii swere the knyght than,
" Yf he be ony Crystyn-man,

Y sehalle hym nevyr forsake.
Holdo well my lady and my londe."
" 3ys," seyde the erle, " here mj-n honde !'

Ilys trowtho to hym he strake.

350

EGLAMORE.

tells her ho
has under-
taken three
deeds of
arms for
her,

Christabell

hopes God
will help
him.

248

252

256

to that Ladye soe flFree :
" damsell," liee said to her anon,
" ffor jouv Loue I haue vndertane

deeds of Armes tkree."
" good Si'r," sliee said, " be merry & glad ; '
£For a worsse lourney you neuer had

in noe christyan countrye,
if god grant ffrom his grace
that wee ^ may ffrom that lourney apace,

god grant it may be soe ^ !

She gives
him a grey-
hound

that'll pull
down any

stag,

and a sword

that'll cut
any helm in
two.

22
" S^'r, if you be on hunting ffound,
I shall you giue a good greyhound
260 that is dun as a doe ;

ffor as I am a true gentle woman,
there was neuer deere that he att ^ ran
that might scape him ffroe :
264 alsoe a sword I giue thee,
that was ffound in the sea ^ ;
of such I know noe moe.
if you haue happ to keepe itt weele,
268 there is no helme of Iron nor Steele
but itt wold carue in 2,

[Part 11.*^]

[How Eglamore kills the giant Marrocke and a big Boar.]

Eglamore
bids Christa-
bell good-
bye,

Eglamore kissed that Lady gent ;
he tooke his leaue, & fforth hee went.

' T. has for the next five lines :
For an hardero fytt never ye had,

Be God, in no cuntre !
Or that yiirney be over passyd,
For my love ye schalle sey fulle ofte
alias !

And so schalle y for thee.

' ye.— P.

^ so bee.— P.

* beste that on fote.— T.

^ Seynt Ponle fonde hjt in the Grekcs
see.— T.

•* Part I. would end better with stanza
28, 1. 341, where the Thornton version
ends its "furste fytt." — F,

EGLAMORE.

351

272 liis •way now hath hee tane ;

"The hye streetes held he west
till he came to the fforrest ;

ffarrer saw he neuer none,
With trees of Cypresse lying out,
the wood was walled roimd abowt

With strong walles of stone ;
fforthe he rade, as I vnderstand,
till he came to a gate that he ffand,

& theria is he gone.

27G
2'' Parte.

280

[page 299] ,„,, ^o the
forest.

enters it by
a gate,

his horne he blew in that tyde ;
harts start' vpp on euery side,
284 & a noble deere ^ ffull prest ;

the hounds att the deere gan bay.
with thai heard the Gyant where he lay;
itt lett him of his rest ;
288 " methinketh, by hounds thai I heare,
thai there is one hunting ^ my deare ;

it were better tliai he cease ^ !
by him thai wore the crowne of thorne,
292 in a worse time he neuer blew a horne,
ne dearer bought a messe ^ ! "

25
Marrocke the Gyant tooke the way
thorrow the fforrest were itt Lay ;
296 to the gate he sett his backe.
Sir Eglamore hath done to dead,

blows his
horn,

and his
hounds bay
at the deer.
The giant
Marrocke

swears it'
be the worst
blowing the
man ever
made,

and goes to

his gate.

' Twety does not iise the word deer in
sjeaking "of the Hert. Now "wyl we
speke of the hert ; and speke we of his
dcgres : that is to say, the fyrst yere he
is a calfe, the secunde yere a broket,
the iij. yeare a spayer, the iiij. yore a
stagg, the Y. yere a greet stagg, the x^.
yeare a hert at the fyrst hed ; but that ne
fallith not in jugement of huntersse, for

the gret dyversytethat is fownde of herti;
for alleway we calle of the fyrst hed
tyl that he be of x. of the lasse. Eeliq.
Antiq. i. 151.— F.

- Yondur is a thefe to stele. — T.

* He were welle bettur to be at the
see.— T.

* Neythur hys bowe bende in no
manys fee. — T.

352

EGLAMORE.

Eglamore
kills a stag,
cuts his head
off,

and asks
Marrocke to
let him pass.

Marrocke

slaine a hart, & smitten off his head ;
the prize ^ he blew ffull shrill ;
300 & when he came where the gyant was,
" good S/r," he sayd, " lett me j)asse,

if that itt be yot^r will."
" nay, traitor ! then art tane !
304 my principall ^ hart thou hast slaine !
thou Shalt itt like ffull ill."

strikes at
him

and says he'll
keep him
there.

Eglamore
hits the
giant in the
eye, and
blinds him,

the Gyant att the chase^,
a great clubb vp hee takes,
308 that villanous was and great "* ;
such a stroke hee him gaue
that into the earth went his staffe,
a ffoote on euery side.
312 " traitor ! " he said, " what doest thou here
in my fforrest to slay my deere ?

here shalt thou now abyde."
Eglamore his sword out drew,
316 & in his sight made such a shew,^
& made him bhnd that tyde.

but he
fights on for
two days and
more ;

then

Eglamore
kills him,

27
how-be-itt he lost his sight,
he ffought w^'th Sir Eglamore that K.mght
320 2 dayes & some deale more ;
till the S"! ^ day att prime
Sir Eglamore waited his time,
& to the hart him bare.

• And whan the hert is take, ye shal
bloweiiij. motys . . . and the hed shal be
brout hom to the lord, and the skyn
. . . Than blow at the dore of halle
the jyryse. . . . And whan the buk is
i-take, ye shal blowe pri/se, and reward
your houndes of the paunch and the
bowellis. Twety, in Eeliq. Ant. i. 153.
Fr. Prise a taking . . . also, the death or

fall of a hunted beast. Cotgrave. — F,
" chefe.— T.
^ to the kny3t ys gon. — T.

* mekylle and fulle unweelde. — T.

* And to the geant he gafe a sowe.
— T. Sough, a stroke or blow. Jamie-
son. — F.

« Tylle on the todur.— T.

EGLAMOEE.

353

324

328

through gods might, & his kniffe,
there the Gyant lost his liffe ;

fFast he began to rore.
iFor certaine sooth, as I you say,
when he was meaten ^ there he Lay

he was 15 ffoote ^ & more.

and he
roars.

He measures
fifteen feet.

28"*
through the might of god, & his kniife,
thus hath the Gryant Lost his HfFe ;
332 he may thanke god of his boone !
the Gyants head with, him hee bare
the right way as hee ffound there,
till hee came to the castle of stone.
336 all the whole court came him againe ;
"such a head," they gan saine,

" saw they neuer none."
before the Erie he itt bare,
340 " my Lord," he said, " I haue beene there,
in witnesse of you all"* ! "

Eglamore
takes the
giant's head

to the Earl
of Artoys,
and saj's he
has been to
the giant.

29
the Erie said, " sith itt is done.
Another Journey there shall come soone, — [pagesoo]
344 buske thee & make thee yare, —
to Sattin, that ^ countrye,
ffor therin may noe man bee
for doubt ^ of a bore ;
348 his tuskes are a yard ^ long ;

what fflesh that they doe come among,
itt couereth ^ neuer more ;

The Earl
sets him his
second deed
of arms :

to go to
Sattin

and kill a
big boar
there,

' meted, measured. — F.

2 xl. fote.— T.

^ Mr. Halliwell makes two stanzas of
28, the rhyme-lines varying. — F.

* For there, 1. 339, compare 1. 233.
T. adds (in italics) :

Make we mery, so have we blys,
Tkys ys the furste fytt of thys
That we have imdertane. — F.

* In Sydon, in that ryche.— T.

« fear.— F. drede.— T.

' fote. — T. * recovers. — F.

354

which kills
everything
it gets hold
of.

352

EGLAMOEE.

both man & beast itt slayetli,
all thai euer hee ouer-taketli,
& giuetli them wounds sore."

Eglamore
starts again,
journeys

fourteen
days over
land and sea,

and then
comes on
traces of
the boar,

dead men all

about.

S*r Eglamore wold not gaine-say,
ho tooke his leaue & went his way,
356 to his lourney went hee.
towards Sattin, I vnderstand,
a ffortnight he went on Land,
& alsoe soe long on sea.
360 itt fFell againe in the eiien tyde,
in the fforrest he did ryde

wheras the bore shold bee ;
& tydings of the bore soone hee ffound ;
364 by him men Lay dead on many a Land,^
that pittye itt was to see.

Next
inornins

he hears the
boar's cry,

and sees it
come from
the sea.

S^'r Eglamore thai Knighi awoke,^
& prinilye lay vnder an oke ;
368 till morrow the sun shone brierht,
in the fforrest ffast did hee lye ;
of the bore he hard a crye,^
& neerer he gan gone right.
372 ffaire helmes he ffound in fere

that men of armes had lefft there,

thai the bore had slaine.
Eglamore to the cliffe went hee,
376 he saw the bore come from the sea,
his morne draught ^ had he tane.

' The Lawnd in -woodes. Saltus
nemorum. Baret. Saltus, woodland
pasture. — P.

* The last words of these lines are
interchanged. T. has :

Sjr Egyllamowre restjd hyra undur an

oke;
Tylle on the morowe that ho can wake.

^ on the see he harde a sowe. — T.

* morne drynke. — T.

EGLAMOEE.

355

the bore saw where the 'K.nighi stood,
his tuskes he whetted as he were * wood,
380 to him he drew thai tyde.

S«r Eglamore weened well what to doe.
With a speare he rode him to
as ffast as he might ryde.
384 all if hee ^ rode neuer see flfast,
the good speare assunder brast,

it wold not in the hyde.
tlmi bore did him woe enonghe,
388 his good horsse vnder him he slough ;
on ffoote then must hee byde.

The boar

comes
towards
him ;
Eglamore
rides at it,

but breaks
his spear,

and the
boar kills
his horse.

Eglamore saw no boote tliai tyde,
but to an oake he sett his side
392 amongst the trees great ;

his good sword he di'ew out then,
& smote vpon ^ the wild swine
2 dayes & some deale raore ; ^
396 till the 3*^ day att noone

Eglamore thought his liffe was doone

for ffightting with that bore ;
then Eglamore with Egar mood
400 smote of the bores head ;

his tuskes he smote of thore.

He puts his
side to aai
oak.

cuts at the
boar two
da;s,

till he's
nearly dead.

but then
kills it.

^ the YAng of Sattin on hunting fare
With 15 armed men & more ;

The King of
Sattin

• The first e is made over an h in the
MS.— F.

■' Gyfhe.— T.

=* fyghtyth with.— T.

* Thre dayes and more. — T.

' The Thornton version makes Egylla-

mowre only break off the boar's tusks in
the preceding stanza, omits lines 2, 5, 7,
of this, and has here:
He thankyd God that ylke stownde,
And gaf the bore hys detliys wound.
The boke of Eome thus can telle. — F.

356

EGLAMORE.

hears the
boar yell,

and sends a
squire to see
who's in
danger.

The squire

sees Egla-
more

fighting the
boar.

404

408

412

the bore loud hard lie yell ;
he camanded a squier to ffare,
" some man is in his perill there !

I trow to long wee dwell."
no longer wold the sqiuer tarry,
but rode fast thither, by S! Marye,

he was therto ffull snell ^ ;
vp to the cliffe rode hee thore ;
S^r Eglamore ff ought ffast with the bore [page 30i]

with, stroakes ifeirce & ffell.

He tells the

King the

boar is

slain

by a knight

with a blue
shield

and black
spurs.

35
the squier stood & beheld them 2,
hee went againe and told soe,
416 "fforsooth the bore is slaine."

" Lord ! S' Mary ! how may this bee ? "
"a Yjiiglit is yonder certainlye
that was the bores bane ;
420 " of gold he beareth a seemly sight,
in a ffeeld of azure an armed 'K.night,

to battell as hee shold gone ;
& on the crest vpon the head is
424 a Ladye made in her likenesse ;
his spures are sable eche one."

The King

finds

Eglamore
lying down,

the King said, " soe mote I thee,
those rich armers I will see : "
428 & thither hee tooke the way.
by that time Sir Eglamore
had ouercome the sharp stoure,
& ouerthawrt the bore Lay.^
432 , the 'King said, " god rest with thee ! "

"my Lo7tZ," said Eglamore, " welcome be yee,

' query MS. sielL— F.

And to reste hym down he lay. — T.

EGLAMORE.

357

436

of peace now I thee pray !
I haue soe ffoughten -with, the bore
tJiat certainlye I may noe more ;

this is the 3^ day."

exhausted ;

they all said anon-right,
" great sinn itt were w/th thee to ffight,
440 or to doe thee any teene ;

manffully thou hast slaine this bore
that hath done hurt sore,

& many a mans death hath beene ;
444 thou hast manfully vnder sheeld
slaine this bore in the ffeild,

thai all wee haue scene !
this haue I wist, the sooth to say,
448 he hath slaine 40 ^ on a day

of my armed knights keene ! ^

praises him
for killing
the boar

that had
slain so
many
knights ;

38
meat & drinke they him brought,
rich wine they spared nought,
452 & white clothes they spread,
the 'King said, " soe mote I thee,
I will dine for loue of thee ;
thou hast been hard bestead."
456 " forsoooth," then Sir Eglamore sales,
" I haue ffought these 4 dayes,^
and not a ifoote him ffledd."
then said the King, " I 'praj thee
460 all night to dwell wrth mee,
& rest thee on a bedd."

provides him
meat and

dines with
him,

and asks
him home to
sleep.

> syxty.— T.

* Welle armyd men and clone. — T.
' The three days have grown to four.
T. has :

"Ye," he seyde, "pennafay,
Now hyt ys the fyrste day

That evyr oon fote y fledd." — F.

358

EGLAMOEE.

Eglamore

tells the
King
what his
name is,

and the
King tells
him of a

& after meate, the sootlie to say,
the 'King Sir Eglamore did pray
464 " of what country hee was."

" my name," he said, " is Si'r Eglamore '
I dwell alsoe with Sir Prinsamoure,
thai Erie is of artoys."
468 then Lords to the King drew,

" this is hee that Sir Marroccke slew,

the gyants brother Mamasse.^
" Sir," said the Ki^ig, " I pray thee
472 these 3 dayes to dwell with mee,
from mee thou shalt not passe ;

Giant near
■who wants
to seize his
daughter,

and is

Marrocke's

brother.

" there dwelleth a Gyant here beside ;
my daughter that is of micklell pride,
476 he wold haue me ffroe;
I dare to no place goe out
but men of armes be me about,
for dread of my foe.^
480 the bore thou hast slaine here,

that hath lined here this 15 yeere "*

christen men for to sloe,
Now is he gone with sorrow enough [page 30i]
484 to [berye ^] his brother that thou slough."
[that evyrmore be hym woo ! ^]

No one can
cut up the
boar

to break ^ the bore they went ffuU tyte ;
there was noe kniffe that wold him bitte,^

' He said " My name is Syr Awntoivr."
— T.

^ Yondur ys ho tliat Arrok slowee,
The yeauntys brodur Maras. — T.

* Fulle seldome have y thus sene soo.
— T.

* He hath fedd hym xv yere. — T.

* There are two pages 301 in the MS.,
and no page 302. — F.

•^ berye. — T.

' From the Thornton MS.— F.

« splatt.— T.

^ Query MS.; it may be kitte.—F.
byte.— T.

EGLAMORE.

359

488

492

496

soe hard of liycle was hee.
" Sir Eglamore,^ thou him sloughc ;
I trow thy sword ^ be good enough ;

haue done, I pray thee." ^
Eglamore to the bore gan gone,
& claue him by the ridge * bone,

thai ioy itt was to see ;
"Lordings," he said, "great & small,^
giue me the head, & take you all ;

for why, that is my ifee."

but Egla-
more,

who claims
only his
head.

the King said, " soe god me saue !
the head thou shalt haue ;
500 thou hast itt bought full deere ! " ^
all the countrye was ffaine,
for the wild ^ bore was slaine,
they made ffuU royall cheere.
504 the Queene said, " god send * vs fi'om shame !
ffor when the Gyant cometh home,
new tydings shall be here,'' "

Tlie people
rejoice at the
boar's
death.

against euen the Km^ did dight
508 a bath ffor that gentle 'K7iight,

' Syr Awntour, seyde the kyng. — T.

2 knyfe.— T.

3 Gyf that thy wylle bee.— T.

* A. -Sax. hricg, ricg, the back. — F.

* Lorde, seyde the knyght, y dud hym
faUe.— T.

^ Aftur cartys can they sende ;
Ageyn none home with that they
wende,
The cyte was them nere. — T.
' wekyd.— T.
8 schylde.— T.

" gete we sone. — T., and it adds, p. 142:
For he ys stronge and stowte,
And therof y have mekylle dowte

That he wylie do us gretu dure or we
have done.

Syr Egyllamowre, that nobylle knyjt,
Was sett with the kynges doghtyr
bryght,

For that he seholde be blythe.
The maydenys name was Organata

so fre ;
Sche preyeth hym of gode chere to bee,

And besechyd hym so many a sythe.
Aftur mote sche can hym telle
How that geant wolde them quelle :

The knyght began to high anone;
" Damyselle," ho seyde, "so mote y tht'c,
^Ind he come whyllo y here bee,

Y schalle hym assay sone ! "

360

EGLAMORE.

Eglamore
lies in a
bath all
niglit.

512

thai was of Erbes ^ good,
S^r Eglamore therin Lay
till itt was light of the day,

thai men to Mattins ^ yode.

[Part III.T

[How Eglamore kills another Giant, and a Dragon near Eome, and
begets a Boy on Christabell.]

Next
morning
tlie Giant
comes,

and demands
the King's
daughter
Aruada.

Eglamore

tells a squire

to show the
Giant the
boar's head.

The Giant

swears he'll
avenge its
death,

516

3f PartX

520

524

528

By the time he had heard masse,
the Gyant to this place come was,

& cryed as hee were wood ;
" Sir King," he said, " send vnto mee
Arnada ^ thy daughter ffree,

or I shall ^ spill thy blood."

Sir Eglamore anon-right ^

in good armour he him dight,
& vpon the walles he yode ^ ;
he camanded a squier to beare
the bores head vpon a speare,

thai the Gryant might itt ^ see,
& when he looked on the head,
" alas ! " he said,^ " art thou dead ?

my trust was all in thee !
now by the Law thai I line in,i°
my litle speckeled hoglin,'!

deare bought shall thy death bee ! "

' Sibes.— P. The MS. is indistinct,
and the Bishop explains it. See the
way to prepare a bath in Russel's Boke
of Nurture, Babees BoJce ^'C. E. li, 'i ext
Soc. 1868, p. 182-5.

'' mete.— T.

' T. ends its secondefi/tt with stanza 62,
1. 611 below.— F.

* Organata.— T.

5 thou schalt.— T.
^ that nobylle knyght. — T.
' for ' yode he.' — F. wendyth hee. — T.
^ Maras myght hym. — T,
^ my bore. — T.
'" leve ynne. — T.

" spote hoglyn. — T. Fr. cochonnet, a
shote or shete pigge, a prettie big pig.
— Cotgrave.

EGLAMORE.

361

45
the Gyant on the walls donge ;
532 att euery stroke fyer out spronge ;
for nothing Avold he spare,
towards the castle gan he crye,
" false traitor ! thou shalt dye '
536 for slaying of my bore !

yojtr strong walles I doe ^ downe ding,
& With my hands I shall the hange ^
ere that I flParther passe.^"
540 but throagh the grace of god almight,
the Gyant had his ffill of fight,
& therto some deale more.^

and

threatens to
kill Egla-
more.

46"

Sir Eglamore was not agast ;

544 on might-flFull god was all his trust,
& on his sword soe good.
to Eglamore said the King then,
" best is to arme vs euery e man ;

548 this theefe, I hold liim woode."

Eglamore
trusts in
God and his
good sword,

552

47 b
Sir Eglamore sware by the roode,
" I shall him assay if hee were wood ;

mickle is gods might ! "
he rode a course to say his steed,
he tooke his helme & forth hee yeede ;

All men prayed for that Knight.

gives his
steed a
gallop,

[page 303]

Sir Eglamore into the ffeild taketh ;
556 the Gyant see him,^ & to him goeth ;

takes the
field.

' Thevys, traytures, ye schalle abye.
-T.

•^ schalle.— T. ^ hynge.— T.

* fare, qu. — P. Or that y hens fare.
-T. " mair.— P.

" T. makes one stanza, XLIX, of
these, p. 144-5, and alters the arrange-
ment of the lines, &c. — F.

' him has a line through it. — F.

VOL. II.

362

EO LAHORE.

and charges
the Giant,

who upsets
him and hia
horse.

"welcome," he said, " my fFeerc !
thou art lice thai slew ' my bore !
that sbalt tliou repent ffull sore,
5G0 & buy itt wouderous dcere ! "

Sv"r Eglamoro weened well what to doe ;
With a speare he rode him to,
as a man of armes clcere.
5G4 attain st him the Gyant was redy bownc,
but horsse & man ho bare all downe,
that dead he was ffull nere.

Eglomore

attacks him
on foot,

and cuts off
tlie Oiiuit's
right arm,

but ho
fights on
till sun-
down.

and then
drops dead.

They ring

the bells ;

King

Edward

promises

to crown

Eglamore

S/r Eglamore cold noe better read,
5G8 but what time his horsse was dead,
to his ffootc he hath him tane ;
& then Eglamore to liim gan goe ;
the right arme he smote him froe,
572 eucn by the sholder bone ;

& tho he 2 had lost his hand,
all day liee stood a ffightand
till the ssun to rest gan goe ;
576 3 the sooth to say, w/thouten lye,
he sobbed & was soe drye
that lifi'e him lasteth none.

all that on the walles were,
580 when they heard the Gyant rore,
ffor ioy the bells the ring.
Edmond was the Kings ^ name,
swore to S/r Eglamore, " by St. lame,
584 here shalt thou be 'King !

' Y trowo thou halpo to slo. — T.
2 Thowo tho lorolle.— T.
=• ThiMi was ho so wery ho myjt not
stondo,

The blode ran so faste fro hym on

every honde,
That lyfo dayes hadd he nevyr oou.
— T.
* kynges.— T.

EGLAMORE.

363

588

592

596

" to-morrow thow shalt crowned bee,
& thou shalt wed my daughter fifree

With a curyous rich ringe ! "
Eglamore answered with words mild :
" god 1 giue you ioy of yo?tr child !

ffor here I may not abyde longe.'^ "

51
"Sir Eglamore, for thy doughty e deede
thou shalt not be called lewd

in uoe place where thou goe ! " **
then said Arnada,^ that sweete thing,
" haue here of me a gold ring

With a precyous stone ;
where-soe you bee on water or Land,
& this ring vpon jotir hand,

nothing may you slone."

600 "gramercy ! " sayd Eglamore ffree.
" this 15 yeeres will I abyde thee,

soe that you will me wed ;
this will I sweare, soe god me saue,
^ing ne Prince nor none will haue,

if they be comlye cladd ! "
"damsell," he said, "by my ffay,
by that time I will you say

how that I haue spedd."
he tooke the Gyants head & the bore,
& towards Artoys did he ffare,

god helpe me att neede ! ^

604

608

and marry
him to his
daughter.

Eglamore
declines the
young lady,

though she
gives him a
chanued
ring

and oflfers to
wait fifteen
years for
him.

He puts her
o£E,

and starts

towards

Artoys.

' Syr. — T. ^ may ye not lende. — T.

* Y schalle geve the a nobylle stede,

Al so redd as ony rooue ;
Yn yustyng ne in turnement,
Thou schalt never soifiir dethys
wound
Whylle thou syttyst hym upon.
— T.

* Seyde Organata. — T.

The knyght takyth hys lero and

furys,
Wyth the geauntys hedd and the
borys,
The weyes owre Lord wylle hym
lede.
Tki/s 1/s the secondefytt of thys :
Make we mcry, so have we blys,
Forferre have we to rede. — T.

B B 2

364

EGLAMORE.

In seven
weeks Egla-
more reaches
Artoys,

is greeted by
Christabell,

612 by thai 7 weekes were conien to end,
euen att Artoys lie did lend,
wtieras Prinsamoure was.
tlie Erie tlierof was greatly faine
616 thai Eglamore was come againe ;
soe was both, more^ and lesse.
when Christabell as white as swan,
heard tell how Eglamore was come,
620 to him shee went full yare ; ^

whom he

bnt her
father says,
" Devil take
you, will
nothing kill
you?

You want
my lanil and
my daughter
I suppose."

54
the K-nighi kissed thai Lady gent,
then into the hall hee went
the Erie for to teene.
624 The Erie answered, & was flFuU woe

" what devill ! may nothing thee sloe ?

forsooth, right as I weene,
thou art about, as I vnderstand,
628 for to winn Artoys & all my Land,
& alsoe my daughter cleane."

[page 304]

" I do," says
Eglamore.

"Oh!
perhaps
you'll get
killed yet."

Eglamore
asks for
twelve weeks
rest;

Sir Eglamore said, " soe mote I thee,

not but if I worthy bee ;
632 soe god giue me good read ! " ^

the Erie said, " such chance may ffall,

thai one may corae & quitt all,
be thou neuer so prest."
636 " but good Jjord, I you pray,

of 12 weekes to giue me day.

' One stroke too many in the MS. m.
—P.

2 T. adds :
"Syr," sche seyde, "how haiie ye
faryn ? "

"Damycelle, welo, and in travelle byn
To brynge us bothe owt of care."

5 Helpe God that ys beste.— T.

EGLAMORE.

365

my weary body to rest."
12 weekes were granted then
640 by prayer of many ^ a gentleman,
& comforted Lira with the best.

Sir Eglamore after suppe?'
went to Christabells chamber
644 with torches burning bright,
the Ladye was of soe great pride,^
shea sett him on her bedside,

& said, " welcome, Sir Knight ! "
648 then Eglamore did her tell
of adventures that him befell,

but there he dwelled all night.
" damsell," he said, " soe god me speed,
652 I hope in god you for to wedd !"

& then their trothes they plight,^

57
by that 12 weekes were come & gone,
Christabbell that was as faire as sunn,*
656 all wan waxed her hewe.

shea said vnto her maidens ffree,
" in that yee know nay priuitye,'^
looke that yee bee trew ! "
660 the Erie angerlye gan ffare,

he said to Eglamore, " make thee yare

for thy lourney a-new ! "
When Christabell therof heard tell,^
664 shee mourned night & day,

that all men mig-ht her rue.

after supper
goes to
Christabell's
chamber,

stays there
all night,
and begets a
son on her.

In twelve

Christabell

grows wan,

and begs her
maids to
keep her
secret.

The Earl
orders Egla-
more off.

and Chi'ifta-
bell mourns.

' Only half the n is in the MS.— F.
- was not for to hyde. — T.
3 T. adds :
So gracyously he come hnr tyllo,
Of poyntes of armys he schewyd
hivr hys fylle,
That there they dwollyd alle nyjt.

as whyte as feme. — T.

Sche prayed liur gentylle women so

fro,
That they woidd layno hur privyto.
— T.
say.— P.

366

EGLAMORE.

Eglamoro's
Third Deed
of Ajrms is to
kill a strong
Dragon near
Eome.

the Erie said, " tliere is rtiee told long,
beside Roome tliere is a dragon strong ;
668 forsooth, as I you say,

the dragon is of such renowne
there dare noe man come neere the towne
by 5 miles and more ; ^
672 arme thee well & thither wend ;

looke thai thou slay him with thy hand,
or else ^ say mee nay."

Eglamore
takes leave

of Chriita-
bell,

gives her a
gold ring,

and goes to
Rome.

Sir Eglamore to the chamber went,
676 & tooke his leaue of the Ladye gent,
white as fflower on ffeelde ^ ;
" damsell," he said, " I haue to doone ;
I am to goe, & come againe right soone
680 through the might of Marry mild,
a gold ring I will giue thee ;
keepe itt well for the loue of mee
if christ send me a child."
684 & then, in Romans as wee say,
to great roome he tooke his way,
to seeke the dragon wild.*

The Dragon
throws down
him and his
horse.

60
if he were neuer soe hardye a K.night,
fi88 when of the dragon he had a sight,
his hart began to be cold.^
anon the dragon waxed wrothe,
he smote Sir Eglamore & his steed bothe,
692 that both to ground they ffell.^

' Ee XV. myle of way. — T.
2 ellys thou.— T. After nai/ T. adds
six lines not in our text. — F.
^ in may. — P.
^ The Thornton text adds :

Tokenynges sone of hym he fonde,
Slayne men on every honde ;

Be hunderdes he them tolde. — F.

5 to folde.— T.

" To the grounde so colde. — T.

EGLAMORE.

367

Eglamore rose, & to him sett,
& on thai ffowle worme hee bett
With stroakes many and bold ' ;

Eglamore
attacks the
Dragon,

[page 305]

696 the dragon shott fire wrth his month
like the devill of hell ;
Sir Eglamore neere him gan goe,
& smote his taile halfe him firoe ^ ;
700 then he began to yell,

& w/th the stumpe thai yett was leaned
he smote Sir Eglamore on the head;
thai stroake was fieirce and ffell.

cuts half its
tail off.

is wounded
himself in
the head,

62
704 "Sir Eglamore neere him gan goe,
the dragons head he smote of thoe,

fibrsooth as I yon say,
his wings he smote of alsoe,^
708 he smote the ridge bone in 2,
& wan the ffeild ^7ia.t day.
the Emperonr of Roome Lay * in his tower
& ffast beheld Sir Eglamore,
712 & to his 'K.nighis gan say,

" doe cry in Roome, the dragons slaine !
a knigh[t] him slew with might & maine,
manfully, by my ffay ! "
716 through Roome they made a crye,
euery officer in his baylye,

" the dragon is slaine this day ! "

but kills the
Dragon.

Tlie

Emperor
Constantine
of Rome

orders the
Dragon's
death to be
proclaimed,

720

& then the Emperonr tooke the way
to the place where Eglamore Lay,

then goes to
Eglamore,

' Wyth byttur clynte and felle. — T.
■^ Halfe the tonge he stroke away. — T.
5 The knyght seydo, " Now am y
schente ! "

Nere that wyckyd worme he went;
Hys hedd he stroke away. — T.
* stode.— T.

368

EGLAMORE,

bring's liim
to Rome,
and the
people meet
him in
procession.

'24

^28

beside that fFoulo tiling,
w/th all that inio:lit ride or Q:one.
Sir Eglamore they haue vp tauo,

& to the toT^Tie they can him bring ;
flPor ioy that they di-agou was slaine,
they came "w/th procession him againe,

and bells they did ringe.
the Emperour of Roome brought him soone,
Constantine, that was his name,

a Jjord of gi'eat Lono-ino-e.

Constan-
tine's
daughter
Vyaxdus

heals Egla-
more's head,
and saves
his life.

' all that euer saw his head,
732 the said that Eglamore was but dead,
that K.night Sir Eglamore.
the Emperour had a daughter bright,
shee vndertooke to heale the 'Knight,
736 her name was vyardus.'^

^ With good salues shee healed his head
& saued him ffrora the dead,
that Lady of great valours :
r40 & there within a little stond

shee made S/r Eglamore whole & sound ;
god giue her honor ! ^

' T. omits the next three lines. — F.

* ys Da\ratowrc. — T.

^~^ The Thornton text has for these :
Scho savys hym fro the dedd,
And with hur handj^s sche helyth hys
hedd

A twelmonth in hur bo'wre.

It then adds two stanzas of twelves,
(LXVII, LXVIIl, p. 153-4) telling how
the Emperor had the Dragon's body
fetched into Eome, and put in "scyut
Laurens kyrke." As to this church, see
Siacions of Eome, p. 13 ; Pol. Ed. c^- Love
Poems, p. 132. p. xxxv. — F.

EGLAMORE.

369

[Part IV.]

[How Christabell's child is bom, and a Griffin flies away with it.]

744

41 parte

748

65
Anon word came to Artois
how that the dragon slaine was :
a YinujTii that deede had done.
SOB long at the Leeche-craft he did dwell,
that a ffaire sonne * had Christabell

as white as whales bone.^
then the Erie made his vow,
" daughter ! into the sea shalt thou
in a shipp thy selfe alone !
752 Tliy younge sonne shall be thy fere,^
cliristendome * getteth itt none here ! "
her maidens wept eche one.

While Egla-
more is
under the
doctor's
hands,
Christabell
has a son.

Her father
vows he'll
send her and
her brat out
to sea alone.

•'' her mother in swoone did ffall,
756 right soe did her ffreinds all
that wold her any good,
"good Lord," she said, " I you pray,
let some prest a gospell say,
760 ffor doubt of ffeendes in the fflood.

ffarwell," shee said, " my maidens ffree !
greet well my Lord when you him see."
they wept as they were woode.
764 Leaue wee now S*r Eglamore,

And speake wee more of that Ladye fflower
that "VTiknown wayes yeelde.^

Christabell
prays that a
priest may
say a gospel
for them,

and takes
leave of her
maidens.

[pa?c 30G]

' A man-chylde. — T.

* Somf! ancient writers imapfined ivory,
formerly made from the teeth of the
walrus, to be formed from the bones of
the whale. Halliwell's Gloss. — V.

'■" And that bastard that to the ys

dere.— T.

* christening. — F.

* T. inserts a stanza and a quarter
here, p. 154-5, but loaves out the mother's
swooning. — F.

" yeede.— P.

370

KGL\MX)RE»

iwck.

^^ltMH)$,

beasts Mwr*,

the shipp dtv>ue ffijrtli nigUl A; d»^y
T6S vp i<* a !\)ck<i>, tUto sootK h> say,
vrhoiv wild l>o«$t« dui rutu'
sliee vra« ft\iU IMih\ I vndorstsutd,
sliee vneiid slw?<> had Ixvone in souu> [known*] La.nd,
rra (^ N-^^ then jeran sluK* wxvnd.

noe manner of men iVound »hee theiv^^
M«t ffijttleis & beasts tkntk wtei^e thew,
«ra«t thev <^U\i m\Mn Ljvnd.
?T(5 thei\5 ctinie a Grifllni '^ M<»t i\>ngUt her e»w ;
her pouiige chihl aw»y hee bare
Into a counferye vnktwnvno.*

l*Uvl.

the Ladi)-e wx>pt> Ct said " alas
?S0 thai euer shoe bvM*no wus !

my child is taken me flfV'oe ! "
the K««*| of Isaivll o»\ hvu\f\ngx' wvMvt;
he saw wheiv the iVoulo lont ;
^84 towards him gau he goe.

a grirtiMi. (ho Kx^ki^ stvith Mrtt he hig'hts,
thai iu Isaivll did Uglit,

thai vevoughi thai Lttd\-e \>'\ie.
TSS tl>o rtvHvlo SUUMo hin\ \v:'th his bill.
(ho ohiUl crvovl nuvl \\ki\\ ill ;
the s?rirton thou \c\\\ \\u\\ (hoiv.

(■>y

Inpp 1 ' ill in n ncuil
Ot \v;l.li a ncU ji;uio.''

vTOiuaimtcks ^ .- , ... 1 • , ,

vip the boy. .*'"^ A Inpp 1 111 in :\ niiuilli^ ot SrinMiMt w:i

' fcwlo.— P.

'^ (hoiv hud bo !V kin\do loudo.— T.

* !> ilTVpO. v. I'V. «/f(fKtM.» gTVpt* OV

gntlvMi,— Ootgrrtvo. UryiH\ l\vj\lo. «>«/•
tnr; l*i\>umtoinum : see Mr, Wav's woto
to it, p. aia-i3.— F.

* uukuowT.— P.

* tv svjiiYor to tho ehj'Me,— 'T.

* Pt\uo of f\»r(v. /HMSMC (PoIf'ijTtn'i*') ;
iSiiHHte i\ >skin\\o. r<>ll v»r liido ^(.\it4J;ravo) ;
fixmi L. |»«r««M.<. W:»v, C'[<, o>uutori><u<o.
— F.

BGLAM0T115.

371

800

the child was large of lim & lythe,
a girdle of gold rtt was hotind w*th,

•wiih worsse cloth itt was cladd,
the Kinf/ swore hj the rood,
** the child is come of gentle hlooci,

whersoeiier that hee was tane j
& for he ffroe the Griffon ffell,
they named the child degrahell,

f.hat lost was in wilsome way.

The Kinpt

r.lirlstens
him I)egra-
bell,

the ICim/ wold hunt noe more ih/it tyde,

804 but w^^h the child homeward gan ryde,

that ffrom the Griffon was hent,
" Madam," he said to his Qaeene,
" ffnll oft I hanc a hunting heene ;

805 this day god hath me lent."
of that Child he was hlythe j
after nnrses shee went belitie ;

the child was lonelye gent.
812 Icane wee now of this chylde,
& talke wee of his mother mild,
to what Land god her sent.

and tAlces
him home to
his wife.

who gets
nwrrses tor
Mm.

Meantime,
Chrfstabell

all that night on the rocke shee Lay ;
816 a wind rose vpon the ' day,

& ffrom the Land her driucth.
in that shipp was neither mast nor ore,
bat enery streame vpon other
820 that ffast vpon her drineth,

& as the great booke of Roome sales,
shee was wj'thont meate 5 daycs
among the great cliffes,^

leaves her
rocfe,

Is firi-ren
abont the
sea,

fasts five
days,

' fig(-ynys-— T,

' MH. cliiffca,— F.

372

EGLAMORE.

and then

reaches

Egypt.

The King

sends a
squire to her.

Christabell
cannot speak
to the squire,

824 by tliai 5 dayes were gone,
god sent her succour soone ;
in oegipt ^ shee arriued.

tlie 'King of -^gipt ^ lay in his tower,
828 & saw the Ladye as white as fflower
tliat came right neere the Land ;
he comanded a Squire flEree
to ' Looke what in thai shipp might bee
832 thai is vpon the sand.'

the Squier went thither ffull tite,

on the shipbord he did smite,

a Ladye vp then gan stand ;

836 Shee might not speake to him a word,

but lay & looked ouer the bord,

& made si^nes wi'th her hand.^

[page 307]

who goes
back to the
King,

and tells
him what a
lovely
foreign
woman he
has seen.

the squier wist not what shee ment ;
840 againe to the King he went,
& kneeled on his knee :
" Lord, in the shipp nothing is,
sauing one in a womans Likenesse
844 tliai ffast looked on mee.

but on ^ shee be of fflesh & bone,
a ffairer saw I neuer none,
saue my Ladye soe flfree ! "*
848 shee maketh signes with her hand ;
shee seemeth of some ifarr Land ;
vnknowen shee is to mee.^

' The MS. may be either (E or ^ in
this and other cases. — F.
- The Thornton text adds :
Make we mery fcr Goddys est;
Thys ys the thrydd fytte of owre geste,

That dar y take an hande. — ]
an, if.— F.

But hyt were Mary free. — T.
Beyonde the Grekys see. — T.

EGLAMORE.

373

74
Sir Marmaduke ' highet the Kr/;^,^
852 lie went to see that sweet tiling,
lie went a good pace,
to the Ladye he said in same,
" speake, woman, on gods name ! "
856 against him shee rose.

the Lady that was soe meeke & mildo,
shee had bewept sore her child,
that almost gone shee was.^
860 home to the court they her Ledd,
With good meates they her ffedd ; •*
with good will shee itt taketh.-"*

King Mar-
maduke

goes to
Christabell,
speaks tu
her,

takes her
home to
Court,
feeds her
well,

" Now, good damsell," said the 'King,
864 " where were you borne, my sweet thing ?
yee are soe bright of blee."
" Lord, in Artois bome I was ;
Sir Prinsamoure my ffather was,
868 that Lord is of that Countrye ;
I and my maidens went to play
by an arme of the sea ;

locund wee were and lollye:
872 they wind was lithe, a bote there stood,
I and my squier in yode,
but vnchristened was hee.

and asks her
who she is.

Christabell
tells him,

and says she

got into a
boat with
her boy.

" on land I lefift my maidens all,
876 my youngc squier on sleepe gan ffall,
my mantle al on him I threw ;

wrapped him
in her
mantle.

' Marmaduke seems to have been from
Marmaluke. — Pencil note.

^ Be Ihesu swere that gentylle kynge.
— T. T. doesn't give " The kyng of

Egypt" a name. — F.

^ Sche was wexjoi alle horse.- — T,

' Dylycyus metys they hur badd. — T.

^ sche them tase. — T.

374

E GLAMOEE.

and a griffin
flew away
with him.

" All right,
you shall be
my niece
then:"

and Christa-
bell stays in
Egypt.

880

884

a griffon there came thai rought me care,
my yonnge squier away hee bare,

southeast w/th him. hee drew."
" damsell," he saM, "be of good cheere,
thou art my brothers daughter deere."

ffor Icy of him shee louge ;
^ & there shee did still dwell
till time thai better beffell,

With ioy and mirth enoughe.*

[Part v.]

[How Eglamore comes back to Artois, and goes to the Holy Land for
fifteen years ; and how Christabell marries her own son.]

As soon as

Eglamore

recovers,

he leaves
IXoaie,

to go home
to Christa-
bell.

He reaches
Artois,

Now is Eglamore whole & sound,
888 & -well healed of his wound ;

homeward then wold hee flare,
of the Emperour he tooke leaue I-wis,
b^ parte J of the daughter, & of the Empresse,
892 & of all the meany thai were there.

Christabell was most in his thought :
the dragons head hee home brought,
on his speare he itt bare.
896 by thai 7 weekes were come to end,
in the land of Artoys can he Lend,
wheras the Erie gan ffare.

and his
squire tells
him that
Christabell
is dead.

900

904

in the court was told, as I vnderstand,
how thai Eglamore was come to Land

with the dragons head,
his Squier rode againe him soone,
" St'r, thus hath our Lord do one ; ^
ffaire Christabell is dead !

'~' Kepe we tbys lady wliyte as flowre,
And speke wo of syr Egyllamowre ;

Now comyth to hym care y-nogh. — T.
^ Lo ! lorde, what the erle hath done ! — T.

EGLAMORE.

375

908

a ff'aire sonne shee had borne ;
' botlie they are now fForlorne

through his fFalse read ; •
In 2 a shipp hee put them 2,
& With the wind let them goe."

then swooned ^ he where hee stood.

[page 308]

Her father
sent her and
her boy

out to sea in
a ship.

Eglamore
swoons,

79
" alas ! " then said the 'K.nirjhi soe ffree,
912 " Lord ! where may my maidens bee
thai in her chamber was ? "
the Sqnier answered him ffnll soone,
" as soone as shee was doone,
916 ech one their way did passe."
Eglamore went into the hall
before the Squiers & knights all :
" & thou, Erie of Artoys !
920 take," he said, "the dragons head !
all his mine tliai here his lead !
what dost thou in this place ? " "•

asks after

Christabell's

maidens,

goes to the
Earl of
Artois,
gives him
the Dragon's
head,
claims all
his goods,
and asks him
what he's
doing there.

80
great dole itt was to heere
924 when he called Christabell his fere :

" what ! art thou drowned in the sea ?
god tliai dyed on the rood bitterlye,^
on thy soule haue mercye,
928 and on that younge child soe ffree ! "
the Erie was soe feard of Eglamore
thai he was ffaine to take his tower ; '^

Eglamore
laments over
Christabell
and her boy,

>— ' The erle hath hys lyfe forlorne,
He was bothe whyte and rede. — T.

■' Im in MS.— P.

^ Swooning was the correct thing for
a knight, and on very much less provo-
catiou than this. See many instances
iu Seynt Graal, &c. &c. It betokened

the possession of delicate feelings. — F.

* Alle ys myn that here ys levydd.
Thou syttyst in my place. — T.

* on crosse veryo. — T.

* The erle rose up and toke a towro.
— T.

376

EGLAMORE.

and calls on
all who want
knighthood
to go with
him.

that euermore woe him bee !
932 Eglamore said, "soe god me saue,

all thai the order of KnigU-hoode will hauc,
rise vp & goe with mee ! "

He dubs

thirty-two

knights,

starts for the
Holy Land,

936

940

944

they were ffull faine to do his will ;
vp they rose, & came him till ;

he gaue them order soone.
the while that he iu hall abode,
32 1 knights he made,

fFrom morne till itt was noone.
2 those that liuing had none,
he gaue them liuing to Hue vpon,

fFor Christabell to pray soone.
then anon, I vnderstand,
he tooke the way to the holy Land,

where god on the rood was done.

and lives
there fifteen
years,

fighting all
wrong-
livers.

His son
Degrabell
is now
grown big.

Sir Eglamore, as you heare,
948 he dwelled there 15 yeere

the heathen men amonge ;
fFuU manffullye he there him bare,
where any deeds of armes were,
952 against him that lined wronge.
in battell or in turnament
there might no man withstand his dent,
but downe right he him thronge.
956 by that 15 yeeres were gone,

his Sonne that the griffon had tane,
was waxen both stiffe and stronge.

V. and thretty.— T.

And he that was the porest of them

alle,
He gaf for Crystyabellys soule
Londys to leve upon.

A thousand, as y undurstonde.
He toke with hym, and went into
the Holy Londe,
There God on cros was done. — T.

EGLAMORE.

377

now was degrabell waxen wight ;
960 the K.i)ig of Isarell dubbd him a Knight
and Prince with his hand.
Listen, Lords great and small,
of what manner of armes he bare,
964 & yee will vnderstand :

he bare in azure, a griffon of gold
richlye portrayed in the mold,
on his clawes hano-ine:e
9G8 a man child in a mantle round
& w/th a girdle of gold bound,
without any Leasinge.

is dubbed
knight,

and these are
his arms :

on a shield of
azure
a golden
griffin

carrying a
boy with a
girdle of
gold.

the K/hy/ of Isarell, hee waxed old ;
972 to degrabell his sonne he told,
" I wold thou had a wiffe
while that I Hue, my sonne deere ;
when I am dead, thou hast noe ffere,
976 riches is soe riffe." ^

a messenger stoode by the Kjing :
" in jEgipt is a sweet thing,
I know noe such on Hue ;
980 the King, fforsooth, this oath hath sworne,
there shall none her haue that is borne

But he winne her by strifFe." [page 309]

the King said, " by the rood,
984 wee will not Lett if shee bee good ;
haue done, & buske vs swythe."
anon-right they made them yare,
& their armour to the shipp the bare,
988 to passe the watter beliue.

The King of
Isarell asks
Degrabell to
marry.

They are
told of
Christabell
in Egypt ;

but he who
wins her
must fight
for her.

They make
ready,

sail off,

VOL. II.

' AVhen y am dcdd, thou getj-st no pore,
Of ryches thou art so ryt'e. — T.

C C

378

EGLAMORE.

land in

Egypt,

and

announce
their coming
to the King
of Egypt.

He welcomes
them,

by ttliat 7 dayes ' were comen to end,
in segipt Land tliey gan Lend,
the vncoutlie costes to see.^
992 messengers went before to tell,

" here coraeth the K.ing of Isarell

with a ffaire Meany,
& the Prince with many a K.nighi,
996 ffor to haue jour daughter bright,
if itt yowr wil be."
the K.ing said, " I trow I shall
ffind Lodging 3 ffor you all ;
1000 right welcome yee are to mee ! "

leads the
King of
Isarell into
the hall,

then trumpetts in the shipp ■* rose,
& euery man to Land goes ;

the K.nighis were clothed in pall.
1004 the younge K.night of 15 yeere,
he rydeth, as yee may heere,

a ffoote aboue them all.
the K.ing of Isarell on the Land,
1008 the 'King of ^gipt takes him by the hand
& Ledd him into the hall :
^ " Sir," said the 'King, "ffor charitye,
will you lett mee yowr daughter see,**
1012 white as bone of whall ? "

and lets him
see Christa-
bell.

Her son
Degrabell
desires her,

the Lady ffrom the chamber was brought ;
with mans hands shee seemed wrought
& earned oiit of tree.
1016 her owne sonne stood & beheld :

— T.

Be th[r]e wekys.— T.

Ther forsus for to knowe swytlie.

redy yustyng. — T.

* Triimpus in the topp-castelle. — T.

* y prey the thou gyf me a syght
Of Crystyabelle, yowre doghtyr

bryght.— T.

EGLAMOKE.

379

1020

1024

" well worthye liim that might weld ! "

thus to himselfe tliouglit liee.
tlie King of Isarell asked tlien
if tliat slie ' might passe the streame,

his sonnes wiffe iFor to bee.
"Sir," said the King, " if thai you may
meete me a stroake to-morrowe,
thine asking grant I thee."

and may
Ii:ive lior if
he wins her

Lords in hall were sett,
& waites blew to the meate.
they made all royall cheere ;
1028 the 2 Kings the desse began,^

Sir Degrabell & his mother then,

the 2 were sibb ffull neere.
then Knights went to sitt I- wis,
1032 & euery man to his oflS.ce,

to serue the Knights deere ;
& aflPter meate washed they,^
& Clarkes grace gan say
103G in hall, as you may heere.

89
then on the morrow when day sprong
gentlemen in their armour * throng,
Degrabell was dight ;
1040 the King of ^gipt gan him say
in a flPaire ffeeld that day

with many a noble Knight,
what time the great Lord might him see,
1044 they asked, " what Lord that might bee
with the griflTon soe brig-ht ? "

Thej- dine.

and Degra-
bell and his
mother have
the high
seat.

Next day

Degrabell
arms,
and the
King of
Egypt trios
him.

> MS. the. Yf she.— T. (with other
changes). — F.

^ had the chief seats on the dais. — F.

^ See the operation described in The
Boke of Curtast/e ^'c. (E. E. Text Soc.

1867).— F. T. has:

Aftur mete, than seyde they
Deus pacts, clerkys canne seye.
•* to hariids.— T.

c c 2

380

EGLAMOKE.

the ruler of that game gan tell,

"tliis is the Prince of Isarell !
1048 bewai'e ! ffor he is wight."

Degrabell
sits firm,

unhorses the
Kiug,

wins Christ-
tabell.

the Kdng of ./^gipt tooke a shafft ;
the Prince saw that, & sadlye sate,
if he were neuer soe keene.'
1052 against the K.ing he made him bowne,
And on the ground he cast him downe,

the ground that was soe greene.
they K.ing said, " soe god me saue,
105G thou art worthy her to haue ! "
soe said they all by-deene.

[page 310]

and by God's
might
marries his
mother.

She sees his
arms,

91
euerye Lord gan other assay,
& squiers on the other day,
1060 that doughtye were of deede.

S*r Degrabell his troth hee plight ;
& Christabell, that Ladye bright,
to church they her ledd.
1064 through the might of god he ^ spedd,
his owne mother there he wedd,

in Romans as wee reade.^
shee saw his armes him beforne '^ ;
1068 shee thought of him that was forlorne,
shee wept like to be dead.

"what cheere," he said, " my Lady cleere ^ ? "
what weepe you, & make such heauye cheere ?
1072 methinkes you are in thought."

' ? MS. keere.— F.

^ Thus gracyously he hath. — T.

^ Thus harde y a clerke rede.— T.

* MS. beforme.— F.

* The word may be clcerre. T. omits
this and the next two lines. — F.

EGLAMORE.

381

1076

1080

" Sir, in yottr armes now I sec

a ffoule that [rafte] on a time firom mee

a child that I clecre bought/
that in a scarlett mantle was wound,
& in a girdle of gold bound

that richely was wrought."
the K.ing of Isarell said fFull right,
" in my fiforrest the ffoule gan Light ;

a griffon to Land him brought."

and tells him
how a bird
took her boy
awaj',

in a mantle,
and with a
gold girdle

The King of
Isarell saj's
the Griffin
alighted in
his laud,

93
he sent a squier ffull hend,
& bade him ffor the mantle wende
1084 that hee was in Layd.

beffore him itt was brought ffull yare,
the girdle & the mantle there,
that richlye were graued.
1088 "alas ! " then said that Lady ffree,

"this same the Griffon tooke ffrom mee.'

in swoning downe shee braid.
" how long agoe ? " the K.ing gan say.
1092 " Sir, 15 yeere par ma ffay."

they assented to that shee said.

and the boy
was brought
to him.

Christabell
says the boy
was hers,

and it's
fifteen years
ago.

" fforsooth, my sonne, I am afraid
that to ^ sibb maryage wee haue made
1096 in the begiuninge of this moone."

" damsell, looke, — soe god me saue ! —
which of my Knights thou wilt haue."
then degrabell answered soone,
1100 "Sir, I hold you[r] Erics good,

& soe I doe my mother, by the roode,
that I wedded before they noone ;

She tells her
son-husbaud
that their
man-iage is
void.

The King
offers her
any husband
she'll choose.

No, says
Degrabell,

That sometyme rafte a chylde fro me,
A knyglit fulle dere hym boght. — T.

2 When io stands for too, the o will be
accented hereafter. — F.

382

the knights

must fight

for her. 1104

EGLAMORE.

there sliall none haue her certainlye
but if he winne her wiih maisterye
as I my-selfe haue doone."

All the lords
agree to
do so.

then euery Jjord to other gan say,
" if or her I will make delay ^
1108 w^th a speare & sheeld in hand ;
who-soe may winne that Lady clcrc,
ffor to be his wedded ffere,
must wed her in that Land."

[Part VI.]

[How Eglamore won back his lost love Cliristabell, and married her.]

Eglamore,

mnny lords,

and the
King of
Sat tin, come
to the
tourney.

Lists are
prepared,

and all the
lords make
ready.

96
1112 Sir Eglamore was homward bowne,
he hard tell of that great renowne,

& thither wold hee wend.^
great Lords that hard of that crye,
6'- Parte <^ they rode thither hastilye,

as ffast as they might fiare.
the King of Sattin ^ was there alsoe,
& other great Lords many more
1120 I i^icv^ royall armes ^ bare.

Then ringes were made in the fieeld
that Lords might therin weld ;
the busked & made them yare.
1124 Sir Eglamore, thoe he came Last,
he was not worthy out to be cast ;
that Knight was clothed in care.

' For hur love we wylle turnay. — T.

' By rhyme this triplet belongs to the
last stanza. It is put there in the
Thornton text, which adds after it the
stanza about Eglamore's arms, given, in
an altered state, as st. 97 in our print

below. — F.

3 "Sydon (Cotton M.)" marked in
pencil on the margin of the MS. — F.
Sydone.— T.

•• yoly colourys. — T.

EGLAMUKE.

383

97
ffor thai Cliristabell was pvit to the sea
1128 new armes beareth liee,
I will them descrye :
he beareth in azure a shipp of gold,
fFuU richlye portrayed on the raold,
1132 fFull well & worthylye ;

the sea was made both grim & bold ;
a younge child of a night old,
& a woman Ljang there by ;
1 136 of siluer was the mast, of gold the fiane '
sayle, ropes, & cables, eche one
painted were worthylye.

Eglamore
bears as
arms, on a
blue shield
[page ail] a gold ship,

with a child,
and a
woman Ij-ing

by it.

98
heralds of amies soone on hye,
1140 euery Lords armes gan descrye
in tliai ffeeld soe broade.^
then Chr[i]stabell as white as fflower,
she sate vpon a hye tower ; ^
1144 ffor her tliai crye was made.

the younge 'kniglii of 15 jceve old
iliai was both doughtye & bold,
into the ffeeld he rode.
1148 who-soe thai Si'r Degrabell did smite.
With his dint they ffell tyte,
neuer a one his stroakc abode.

Christabell
sits in a high
tower :

her son
Degrabell

ritles into
the field,

and fells all
who attacks
him.

Sir Eglamore houed * & behcild

1152 how the folke in the feild downe fold

they 'K.nighis all by-dcene.

Eglamore
looks on.

' Fane, a AVeathcr-cock, which turns
tiLout as the Wind changes, and shews
from what Quarter it blows. Phillips.
— F.

- The three lines above are not in T.

— F.

' AVas broght to a corner of the
walle.~T.

■* halted, stood still. The first three
lines of this stanza are not in T. — F.

384

EGLAMOEE.

D^rabell
asks him
■why lie
stands etiU.

"Because I
am come out
of heathen
liuads.

1156

1160

when Degrabell him see, he rode him till,^
& said, " St'r, why are you soe still

amonge all these 'Knights keene ? "
Eglamore said to him T-wis,^
" I am come out of heathenesse,

itt -were sinne mee to meete.^ "
Degrabell said, " soe mote I thee !
more worshipp itt had beene to thee,

vnarmed to haue beene."

1164

1168

100
the fPather on the sonne Lough ;
" haue yee not lusting enoughe *

where euer that you bee ?
that day ffall haue I seene.
With as bigg men haue I beene,

& yett well gone my way.
& yett, fforsooth," said he then,
' ' I will doe as well as I can,
W('th you once to play."
Theycharge. ji^g heard together they k?u"^7<ts donge

With great speares sharpe and longe ;
them beheld eche one.
Eglamore Sir Eglamore, as itt was his happ,^

gives his son

a rap, i]76 rnue his sonne such a rappe ^

grounds ° ^ ^

iiim, that to the ground went hee.

Haven't you
jousting
enough ?

Ill have a
turn with
you."

and wins
Christabell.

101

" alas ! " then said that Ladye ffree,
" my sonne is dead, by gods pittye !
1 180 the keene hiiight hath him slaine ! "
then men said wholy on mold,
"the 'Knight that beares the shipp of gold
hath wonne her on the plaine."

' He sende a knyght anon fulle stylle.
-T.

" He seyde, Syr recreawntes. — T.
' tene, T., which is better. — F.

* T. alters this ar,d the next nineteen
lines. — F.

^ turnyd hys swerde flatt. — T.
" patte.— T.

EGLAMORE.

385

102

1184 Herallds of armes crved then,

" is tliere now any manner of man

■will make his body good,
tJiai will iust any more ?
1188 say now while wee be here ! "

then a while they still stoode.
Degrabell said, " by god almight !
methinkes that I durst w/th him ffight,
1192 if he were neuer soe wood."
Lords together made a vow,
" fforssooth," they said, " best worthy art thou
to haue thy ffreelye ffood ! "

Heralds

ask if any
one else will
fight
Eglamorc,

None
answer

so Christa-
bell is
ad judged to
him.

103

1196 fibr to vnarme him Lords gan goe ;
1 clothes of gold on him they doe,

& then to meate the wende.
Sir Eglamore then wan the gTce,
1200 beside the Lady sett was hoe :

shee frened him as her ifreind,'
" ffor what cause tJiat he bore
a shipp of gold w/th mast & ore."
1204 he said w/th words hendc,

" damsell, into the sea was done
my Lady & my younge ^ sonne ;
& there they made an endc."

Eglamorc
is clad In
cloth of gold,

and sits in
the chief
place with
Christabell.
She asks
him why
his arms
are a ship.

" Because
my lady and
sou were
put to sea,
and died."

104

1208 3 knowledge to him tooke shoe thoe ;
"now, good S/r, tell me soc,

where they were brought to ground ?

Wiei-e were
[page 312] thcyburieil?

>— ' In cortyls, sorcatys,- and scliortc
clothys,
That doghty weryn of dedo.
Two kyngys the deyso began,

S}T Egylhimo'ttTo and Crystyabello
than ;
Ihesu us alle spede ! — T.
- loinman and my yongest. — T.
" T. omits the next six lines. — F

386

EGLAMOEE.

" I was
away.
Her father
sent lier to
sea to
drown."

What is
your name ?

" Sir Egla-
niore of
Artois."

1212

1216

" while I was in ffarr country e
her ffather put her into the sea,

with, the wanes to confounde."
with honest mirth & game
of him shee asked the name ;

& he answered that stond,
" men call mee, where I was bore,
of Artoys S/r Eglamore,

that With a worme was wound."

Christabcll

swoons,

then

welcomes

Eglamore,

and tells
what she has
siifEerod.

(People
meet when
they least
expect it.)

The Xing of
Isarell tells
how he
found
Degrabell,

105

1220 in swooning ffell that Lady ffree;
" welcome, Sir Eglamore, to niee !

thy Loue I haue bought full deere ! "
then shee sate, & told full soone
1 224 how into the sea shee was doone ;
then wept both lesse and more.
• minstrills had their giflPts ffree,
wherby the might the better bee ;
1228 to spend they wold not spare. ^
ffull true itt is, by god in heaueu,
that men meete att vnsett steven,'^
& soe itt beffell there.

106
1232 the K.{ng of Isarell gan tell

how tJiat hee found Sir Degrabell ;
Lordings, Listen t'^en : ^

• This gentle reminder to the hearers
of their duty to the singers of the Ro-
mance is repeated with some variation
at the end. — F.

' For the former part of this st. 105,
T. has, St. CXI. p. 17-t :
There was many a robe of palle;
The chylde servyd in the halle

At the fyrste mete that day.
Prevely sclao to hym spake,
" 3oiidur ys thy fadur that the gate ! "

A grete yoye hyt was to sec ay

When he knelyd downe on hys kne,
Ther was mony an herte sore.

Be God that dyed on a tree I — F.

^ unfixed time, time not appointed.
Compare Chaucer, in The Knightes Tale,
1. 666, V. ii. p. 47, ed. Morris :
It is fill fair a man to here him evene.
For al day mcteih men atte unset stcvene,
Ful litel woot Arcite of his felawe,
That was so neih to herken of his sawe.
— F.

^ Knyghtys lystcnyd ther-lo than.
— T.

EGLAMOKE.

387

1236

1240

Sir Eglamore kneeled on his knee,

" my Lord ! " lie said, " god yeeld itt thee !

yee haue made him a May.^ "
the King of Isarell said, " I will the[e] giue
halfe my kindome while I doe Hue,

my deere sonne as white as swan."
" thou shalt haue my daughter Ai^nada,"
the King of Saftin sayd alsoe,

" I remember, since thou her wan."

and gives
him half his
kingdom.

The King of
Sattin
also gives
his daughter
Amada to
Degrabell.

107

1 244 2 Eglamore prayed the Kings 3
att his wedding fFor to bee,

if that they wold vouch [s]afe.
all granted him that there were,
1248 litle, lesse, & more;

Lord lesus christ them haue !
Kings, Erles, I vnde[r] stand,
-with, many dukes of other Lands,
1252 With loy & mirth enoughe.

the tiaimpetts in the shipp blowes,
that euery man to shipp goes,
the winde them ouer blcAV.

Eglamore
invites every

one to his
wedding.

All accept,

sail off,

108

125G through gods might, all his meany
in good liking passed the sea ;

in Artois they did arriue.
the Erie then in the tower stoode,
1260 he saw men passe the fflood,

& ffast ^ to his horsse gan driue.

and reach

Artois

safely.

The old E;irl

' man. — T. Mai/ generally means
maiden ; but maue, may, is a kinsman ;
A.-Sax. mag, a son, kinsman.^F.

* T. shortens and alters this stanza

and part of the next. — F.

^ 80 in printed copy, Imt very diffbront
in tha Cotton MS. — Pencil note in 318.

588

EGLAMORE.

falls out of
his tower
and breaks
Ms neck,

by a merciful
provideuce.

when lie heard of Eglamore,
ho fFell out of his tower
1204 & broke his necke beliue.

the messeBger went againe to tell
of tliai case, how itt beflfell :
With god may no man striue.

The

Emperor is
sent for,

every one in
the land is
bidden to the
Feast,

and Egla-
more weds
Christabell,
Degrabell
weds
Arnada,

109

1268 1 thus in Artois the Lords the Lent ;
after the Emperour ^ soone the sent,

to come to thai Marryage ;
in all they land they mad crye,
1272 who-soe wold come to thai ifeast worthye,
right welcome shold they bee ;
Szr Eglamore to the church is gone,
degrabell & Arnada they haue tane,
1276 and his Lady bright of blee.

the 'King of Isarell said, " He giue
halfe my land while I liue ;

brooke well [alP] after my day."

The Feast
lasts forty
days.

and then all
the guests go
home.

110

1280 wi'th mickle mirth the feast was made,
40 dayes itt abode

amonge all the LorcZs hend ;
and then forsooth, as I you say,
1284 euery man tooke his way

wherin him liked to divell.

[page 313]

' T. alters these concluding stanzas a
good deal. — F.

* An Emperor was thoviglit necessary
to give the proper eclat to a wedding :

Ther com tyl hir weddyng
An empcroure and a kyng,
Erchebyscliopbz with ryng
Mo then fyftene !

The mayster of hospitalle
Come over with a cardinalle,
The gret kyng of Portyngalle,
With kny3thus ful kene.
Sir Begrevant, p. 252-3, Thornton
Eomances. — F.

^ all. p.c. — Pencil note. T. has not
the line. BrooJce is A.-S. brucan, to
enjoy.— F.

EGLAMORE.

389

minstrells liad good gi-eat plentye,
that euer tliey better may the bee,
1288 and bolder ffor to spend.

in Romans this Ckronickle is.
dere lesus ! bring vs to thy blisse
that lasteth without end ! *

ffins.

Minstrels
get plenty of
money.

Christ bless
us all !

' T. winds up with " Araeu. Here endyth syr Egyllamowre of Artas, and Legyn-
neth syr Tryamowre." — F.

[" When Scortching Phoehus," irrinted in Lo. and Hum. Songs,
^>p. 70-S, folloivs here in the MS.']

390

€i)t empcrour $c ti)t tinltit^

The following piece is here printed for the first time. Percy
describes it as an old poem " in a wretched corrupt state, un-
worthy the press." Selecting from it " such particulars as could
be adopted," he composed himself a poem on the subject of it, —
a poem in Two Parts, altogether some 400 lines long, beginning

in this wise :

When Flora 'gins to decke the fields

With colours fresh and fine,
The holy clerkes their mattins sing
To good Saint Valentine ! &c.

Is this style so very much worthier of the press than that of

Within the Grecian land some time did dwell
An Emperor, whose name did far excell, &c. ?

We doubt whether either piece is particularly worthy of the
press. But that which suited best the taste of the eigliteenth
century is certainly the less worthy of the two. That century
could see the mote in the eye of a preceding age, but not the
beam in its own eye.

This piece is evidently of very late origin, written at a time
when the period of professional ballad-makers had well set in.

The story was, in prose, extremely popular. This prose ver-
sion was a translation from the French. Of the old French
romance an analysis is given in the Bibliotheque deh Romans,
which ranks it among Romans Historiques : ' —

' The Old song of Valentine & Ursin Chevaliers Valentin et Orson, fils de

or Orsin. TErapereur de Grfece et neveux du tr^s-

This song or Poem seems to be quite chretien Roi de France P^pin, eontenant

modern by the Language & vei^sificat/on. 74 chapitres, lesquels parlent de plusieurs

N.B. This Poem only suggested the et diverses mati^res tr^s-plaisantes et

subject of that I printed on Valentine rc^ereatives. Lyon, 1495, in-folio, et

and Ursin.— P. 1590 in-octavo, et depuis a Troyes, chez

^ Histoire des deux nobles et vaillans Oudot, in-quarto.

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CIIILDE. 391

Nous avons annonce dans notre avant-dernier volume que nous
avions encore a parler d'un roman singulier et intercssant concernant
Pepin, Roi de France, premier de la seconde race et pere de Charle-
magne ; c'est celui dont on vient de lire le titre. H est bien constam-
ment liistorique, quoique I'liistoire j soit defiguree ; que Pepin y
voyage dans des pays dout il n'a jamais approclie, tels que Constan-
tinople et Jerusalem, qu'on I'y fasse prisonnier d'un Roi des Indes,
ainsi que les douze pairs de France ; qu'on ajoute a cette pretendue
captivite les circonstances les plus ridicules ; qu'on suppose a Pepin
deux fils, une soeur et deux neveux, qui n'ont jamais existe ; enfin,
quoique les commencements de I'liistoire do Cliarlemagne que Ton
trouve dans ce roman-ci soient aussi eloignes de la verite que ce qui
est dit du regne de Pepin, tout cela, cependant, se fait lire avec plaisir ;
ct nous croyons que nos lecteurs ne trouveront point trop long
I'extrait tres-detaille que nous aliens en faire, cliapitre par chapitre,
sans rien changer a sa marche, et respectant presque egalement le
style, qui n'est pas si gaulois que celui des autres romans de che-
valerie que nous avons extraits jusqu'a present, car celui-ci pent etre
range dans la meme classe : on pent aussi, si I'on vent, le compter
parmi les romans d'amoui', car malgre les ridiculites dont il est rempli,
la marche en est tres-reguliere. L'histoire des deux freres qui en
font les heros y est conduite depuis I'instant de leur naissance
jusqu'a leur raort ; tons deux sent amoureux et epousent enfin leurs
maitresses. Rien ne nous prouve que ce roman soit fort ancien.
Nous n'en connaissons aucuns manuscrits ; et ne pouvant parler d'apres
nous-memes de la premiere edition (in- folio), qui est tres-rare, nous ne
trouvons rien dans la seconde (qui est celle de 1590) qui porte une
certaine marque d'anciennete, non-seulement dans le style, mais meme
dans les details, et nous ne croyons pas qu'on puisse en faire remonter
I'epoque plus haut que le regne de Charles VIII, temps oii beaucoup
de romans de ce genre virent le jour, les uns etant tires de quelques
manuscrits plus anciens, les autres etant tout a fait nouveaux. Ne
poussons pas plus loin nos recherches et nos observations preliminaires
sur Valentin et Orson, et commen^ons notre extrait en suppliant nos
lecteurs d'avoir de I'indulgence pour la simplicite et la bonhomie
avec lesquelles cet ouvrage a ete compose. On y trouvera bien des
traits cui-ieux et des situations tres-interessantes, meles avec mille
circonstances ridicules. La singularite de tout cela pourra, du moins,
arauser.

L'auteur raconte, d'abord, en pen de mots, la touchante histoire
de Berthe au grand pied, qui a fait la matiere d'un roman entier,

392 THE EMPEKOUR AND THE CHILDE.

dont nous avons clonne I'extrait dans notre premier volume du mois
dernier. II suppose seulement que les deux fils de Pepin et de la fausse
Berthe vecurent, et se trouverent en etat, a la mort de Pepin, de com-
battre le roi Charlemagne ct de lui disputer la couronne ; que celui-ci,
apres avoir ete chasse de son royaume par eux, y rentra, pourtant, et
les vainquit a son tour. II suppose encore que Pepin avait une soeur
nommee Beligrane ou Belissante, qu'elle epousa un Empereur de
Constantinople nomme Alexandre, et c'est ici que commence le
roman.

As the matter of a chap-book, the story was very commou both
in France and in England. How it was generally treated will
be shown by the following headings of chapters from the Hi stoire
de Valentin et Orson, tres-nohles et tres-vaillants chevaliers, fils
de VEiwpereur de Grece et neve^ix du tres-vaillant et tres-
chretien Pepin, Roi de France.

Cap. I. — Comme le tres-noble roi Pepin epousa Berthe, dame de
tres-grande renommee et prudence.

Cap. II. — Comme I'Empereur fat trahi par I'Arclieveque de Con-
stantinople.

Cap. III. — Comme TArcheveque etant econduit de Bellisant pour
son honneur sauver, machina grande trahison.

Cap. rV. — Comme I'Archeveque se mit en habit de chevalier, et
monta a clieval pour poursuivre la dame Bellisant, laquelle etait
bannie.

Cap. V. — Comme Bellisant enfanta deux enfants dans la foret
d'Orleans, dont Fun fut appele Valentin et I'autre Orson, et comme
elle les perdit.

Cap. VI. — De I'ourse qui emporta de Bellisant parmi le bois.

Cap. VII. — Comme par le conseil de I'Archeveque furent elevees
de nouvelles coutumes en la cite de Constantinople, et comme la
trahison fut connue.

Cap. VIII. — Comme I'Empereur Alexandre, par le conseil des
sages, envoya querir le roi Pepin pour savoir la verite de la querelle
du marchand et de I'Archeveque.

Cap. IX. — Comment le marchand et I'Archeveque se combattirent
au champ de bataille.

Cap. X. — Comme le roi Pepin prit conge de TEmpei-eur et partit
de Constantinople pour retourner en France, et comme apres il alia
a Rome contre les Sarrasins qui la cite avaient prise.

THE EMPEROUK AND THE CHILDE. 393

Cap. XI. — Comme HaufFroi et Henri eurent envio sur Valentin
pour le grand amonr que lui portait le roi.

Cap. XII. — Comme Valentin conquit Orson son frere dans la foret
d' Orleans.

Cap. XIII. — Comme apres que Valentin eut conquis Orson, il
partit de la foret pour retonrner a Orleans vers le roi Pepin.

Cap. XIV. — Comme Hauffroi et Henri, par envie, resolurent de tiier
Valentin en la chambre de la belle Esglantine.

Cap. XV. — Comme le due de Savaiy envoya vers le roi Pejiin pour
avoir aide contre le vert chevalier qui voulait avoir sa fille Fezonne
pour epouse.

Cap. XVI. — Comme plusieurs clievaliers vinrent en Aquitaine
pour avoir la belle Fezonne.

Cap. XVII. — Comme Hauffroi et Henri firent guetter Valentin et
Orson sur le cliemin pour le faire mourir.

Caj). XVIII. — Comme le roi Pepin commanda que devant son
palais flit appareille le champ pour voir Orson et Grigard combattre
ensemble.

^ 4t 4£. ^ ^ 4{>

Cap. LVI. — Comme Valentin fit la penitence qui lui avait ete
imposee pour expier le meurtre de son pere.

Cap. LVII. — Comme le roi Hugon fit demander Escharmonde pour
femme, et comme il trahit Orson et le vert chevalier.

Cap. LVIII. — Comme Bellisant et Escharmonde surent la trahison
et fausse entreprise du roi Hugon.

Cap. LIX.^ — Comme Orson et le vert chevaher furent delivres des
prisons du roi de Syine, et comme le roi Hugon, pour eviter la g-uerre,
se soumit a eux.

Cap. LX. — Comme, au bout de sept ans, Valentin, finit ses jours
dans son palais de Constantinople, et ecrivit une lettre par laquelle il
fut connu.

VVhITHIN the Grecyan land some time did dwell a Greek

Einperoi'

an Emperour, whose name did ffar excell ; once married

'■ ^ a French

he tooke to wiffe the Lady B[e]llefaunt, Ladv Beiie-

4 the only sister to the Kinge of ffrance, ^'''""*-

w('th whome he lined in pleasure & delight They lived

_ happily till

vntill that ffortune came to worke them spight.

VOL. II. D D

394

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CIIILDE.

a lustful
Bishop

tried to
seduce the
Empress,

and on her
refusal

accused her
falsely to the
Emperor.

The

Emperor
wouldn't
hear her,
but banished
her at once ;

and she
started with
one squire

for France.

On her way

fFor w^tlliIl the court a bislioppe • there did rest,
the which the Emperour held in great request ;
his enuious hart itt was soe sore enfflamed
vpon the Empresse, that gallant dame,
2 that he wold perswade her many ^ a wile
her husbands marriage bed for to defile,
but shee denyed that vnchast request,
as to her honor did beseeme her best ;
which, when the Bishopp saw, away he went
vntou the Emperour with a fell intent,
& then most fFalselye her he did accuse,
how that shee wold his marry age bed abuse ;
& thervpon he swore the same to proue,
which made her husbands loue in wrath to proue.
then the Emperour went to her with speed,
fifor to accuse her of this shamefull deede.
and when shee saw how shee was betrayd,
her inocency shee began to pleade ;
but then her husband wold not heare her speake,
which made her hart w^'th sorrow like to breake ;
but straight the Emperour he gaue com7»and
that shee shold be banished "* out of his land,
but when that shee flfrom them did goe,
before them all shee did reccount ^ her woe,
& said that shee was banished wrongff ullye ;
& soe shee went with sorrow like to dye.
now is shee gone, but with one Squier alone,
vnto her brother in firq,nce to make her Mono.
And being come within the reaime of firance, [page 3i 5
there beffell a very h'eauy chance !
ffor ^ as shee trauelled through a wild fforrest,
the labor of Childhood did her sore oppresse,

' An Archpriest, says tlie Story Book.
-P.
2 That her he -would persuade with.

—P.

* banish' cl be. — P.

* recount. — P.

8 all follows in the MS., marked out.
— F.

with many, qu. — P.

THE EMrEROUR AND THE CIIILDE.

395

& more & more her paines increased still

thai sliee was IForced to rest against her wall.

now att the lenght her trauell came to end,

ffor the \jord 2 children did her send,

the wZu'ch were IFaire & proper boyes indeed,

w/i/ch made her hart wi'th loy for to excecdc.

but now behold how fFortune gan to Lower, ^

& tiu-ned her loy to greefe within an hower !

fFor why, shee saw an vgly beare as then,

the w/iich was come fforthe of some lothesome den;

& when the beare did see her in tliai place,

he made towards her with an Egar pace,

& ffrom her tooke one of her children small,

a sight to greeue the mothers hart with-all.

but when shee saAv her child soe borne away,

shee Laid the other downe, & did not stay,

& ffoUowed itt as ffast as euer shee might ;

but all in vaine ! of itt shee lost the sight.

but soe itt chanced, att thai verry tyde

the Kmgr of ffrance did there a hunting ryde ;

& in the fForrest as he rode vp and downe,

the other child he ffound vpon the ground.

& when he saw the child to be soe faire,

to take itt vp he bade his men take care,

& keepe itt well as tho itt were his owne,

vntill the ffather of the child where ^ knowne.

the Empresse returned there backe againe,

when as shee saw the beare within his den ;

but when shee saw her other sonne was lost,

her hart with sorrow then was like to burst.

then downe shee sate her with a heauy hart,

& wishes ^ death to ease her of her smart ;

shee wrong her hands with many a sigh full dcepc

thai wold haue made a fflyntye hart to weepe.

she was
taken in
labour,

and bore
two boys.

A bear

carried off
one of them.

She laid the
other down,
and ran
after the
lost one,
but couldn't
find it.

The King of
France finds
the boy laid
down,

and has him
carried off.

The Empress
conies back
for him,

but finds him
gone.

Ilcr heart

nearly

breaks.

' loiir.— P.

were. — P.
D D 2

' MJ.sb'tl foi'. — P.

396

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

She leaves
the place,

and goes to
a castle
for help.

But a giant
lives there

and pnts her
in prison,

but doesn't
hurt her.

The hoy the
bear took
grows up

a huge wild
man,

who kills all
that pass by
his den.

The other
boy is
christened
Valentine,

is knighted,
and is
valiant.

Poor men
complain of
the Wild
Man.

' shown.

2 The

in the MS.

100

104

tlien sliee departed from that woeMl place,

& fforth of ffrance sliee went away apace ;

ffor why, as yett sliee wold not there be knowen

vntill some newes of lier young sonnes were slaone.^

bnt sliee belield a Castle flFaire & stronge, — ^

sliee had not trauelled ffrom that place not Long,—

wheratt sliee knocket, some succoar for to find.

but itt ffell out contrary to her mind ;

ffor why, w;*th-in that castle dwelt as then

a monstrous gyant, ffeared of all men,

who tooke this Ladye into his prison strong,

& there he kept her ffast in prison long.

but when he saw her lookes to be soe sadd,

& hauing knowen what sorrowes she had had,

he kept her close, but he hurt her not ;

& soe shee lined in prison long, god wotte.

the child the w/wch the beare had borne away,

amongst her younge ones was brought vp alway,

& soe brought vp vntill att length as then

he there became a monstrous huge wild man,

& [djaylye ranged about the flForrest wilde,

& did destroy man, woman, beast and child,

& all things else -which by his den did passe,

which to the country great annoyance was.

the other child which they 'King ^ had ffound,'*

he christened was, & valentine was his name ;

& when he grew to be of ripe yeeres,

he was beloued both of King and peeres ;

in ffeates off armes he did himselfe advance,

that none like him there cold be ffond in ffrance ;

& ffor that same, the King did dub him Knight ;

he allwaies was soe vallyant in his fight.

then to the court did many pore men come

to show what hurt the wild man there had done ;

—P.

and n are squeezed together
- F.

the ■which the King. — P.
tane ; qu. — P.

THE EMPEROUR iND THE CHILDE.

397

108

112

116

but when theKini] did heare the moane they made/
he sent fForth men the monster to inuade ;
but all in vaine ; ffor why, hee crusht them soe
that none of them with-in his reach durst goe.
Then valentine vnto the ^ing did sue [page 3i6]

that he might goe the Monster to subdue,
then iforthe he went the Monster ffor to see,
whom he saw come bearing a younge oke tree ;
& when the wild man of him had a sight,
he went vnto him & cast him downe right.
& when he saw his strenght cold not pi-evaile,
he praid to god his purpose might not ffayle ;
then a poinard presently he drew out,

120 & peirct his side, wherwith the blood gusht out.
but when the wild man did behold his blood,
he 2 quicklye brought him ffrom his ffuryous mood ;
then ffrom the fforrest both together went

124 towards the Emperour,^ & with ffuU intent
of [him] desired leaue by sea to sayle
into an He that Lyeth in Portingall,
wheras the hard"* with-in a Castle was

128 a Ladye ffaire that kept a head of brasse,
the which cold tell of any questyon asket.
& thither came braue valentine att Last ;
& when that they to ^ the castle came,

132 they thought ffor to haue entered the same ;
but itt ffell out not vnto their mind,
because the porters there were much vnkind ;
ffor why, the ffound 2 gyants att the gate,

136 With [w]home ^ they ffought or they cold in theratt.
then went they vpp wheras they head did stand ;
& by itt sate the bewtyous Claramande,

The King
sends men to
kill him,

but he kills
them.

Valentine
goes to
subdue him ;

the Wild
Slan knocks
him down
witli an oak.

but gets
stabbed in
return.

Then they
make it up,
and ask the
Emperor
leave to go
to an
island in
Portingall,

to consult a
brass head.

They go
there,

fight two
giants to
get in,

sec the head
and fair
Claramande,

• The m has one stroke too many in
the MS.— F.

2 It.— P.

* King of Fraunce, qu. — P.

* heard.— P.

* unto. — P.

* whom. — P.

398

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

who asks
the head
whose son
Valenthie is,
and who
the Wild
Man is.
The head
says,

" You are
brothers,
sons o£ the
Greek
Emperor,

and your
mother is in
King

Ferragus's
prison.
Cut the
string under
Ursin's
tongue, and
he'll speak."

Valentine
marries
Clara-
mande ;

and the
wo sous

kill

Ferragu.?,
and free
their
mother.

Then tbey
all go to
Greece,

140

144

148

152

156

160

164

108

172

wlioin, when the noble valentine did see,

he swore his hart ffor euer there shold bee,

then did shee speake vnto the head of brasse,

& bade itt tell whose sonne valentine was,

& whom the wild man there shold bee.

to whom the head gaue answer presentlye :

"fiirst be it knowen, he is thy brother deere,

& yon are both sonnes to the Grecyan peere ;

& jouv mother wrongffullye banished was,

& you were both borne in a wild fforrest ;

& that ^ by a beare vrsin was nnrst vpp,

& valentine by ^ his vnckles court ;

& JOUV mother lyeth in prison stronge

With Kfing fFeragus,^ where shee hath beene long.

alsoe I say, looke vnder vrsines tounge ;

there shall you ffind a string both bigg & stronge ;

cut that in tow, & then his speech shall breake ;

& this is all ; & I noe more can speake."

then vrsin to his speeche restored was hee,

& valentine had Claremonde soe fFree,

soe al together * on their lourney went

towards their mother being in prison pent ;

& soe they came vnto the place att Last

wheras their mother was in prison ffast ;

& him they slew that did their mother keepe,

& soe they brought her out of prison deepe.

& when that they were al together come,

vnto their mother they then made them knowne ;

■which when shee saw her owne sonnes sett her fFree,

no ioye to her there might compared bee.

then presentlye they purpose to take read,-'

into the Land of greece to hye with speed.

& when that they had many a storme ore past,

they did arriue with-in that Land att last ;

» there.— r.
2 in.— P.

^ This is the numc of one of the

Charlemagne heroes. — F.

* MS. altogether, and in 1. 1G5.
^ coixnsel. — P.

-F.

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

399

then on their loumey towards they court they went,

& to the Emperour a messenger they sent,

to tell him fFreinds of his were comen vpon land,

176 & did intreat some ffavor att his hand.

when the Emperour was come vnto them there,
& knew the woman to be his wiffe most deere,
& that the other 2 were his owne deare sonnes,

180 he then bewailed their happ wtth bitter moanes,
ffirst that because his wiffe was wronge exilde,
& ffor the greeffe when as shee traueled with child.
& soe att lenght, in spight of ffortunes happ,

184 they lined in ioy, & ffeared noo after clappc.

ffius.

TVlicn the
Emperor
finds his
wife
and sons,

ho bewaila
their past
sufEerings ;

and they
live ha))pily
thereafter.

400

This piece declares that women will have their own way, and
farther, that that way will frequently be wanton. It attempts to
reconcile husbands to the loss of their supremacy, and their
other consequent troubles. The argument is not always thoroughly
satisfactory ; as, when we are taught that because Paris of Troy
got into such trouble for running away with another man's wife,
therefore we cannot expect to enjoy any immunity from trouble
in respect of our own wives. We cannot, if we would, says the
poem, exercise a sufficiently sharp surveillance over them. In
all ranks of life they " have their own will ; " beggars' wives, and
the wives of better men, all elude and mock their husbands.
The only place where this is not the rule is Rome, and it is not
so there simply because a woman-pope would not let it be so.
Thus woman's will reigns supreme everywhere.

But perhaps the only interest this sorry composition possesses
is its illustrating Hudibras (Part I. canto ii. vv. 545-552): —

Some cried the Covenant, instead
Of pudding-pies and ginger-bread ;
And some or brooms, old boots, and shoes,
BawVd out to purge the Commons' House ;
Instead of kitchen-stuff, some cry
A Gospel-preaching Ministry ;
And some for old suits, coats, or cloak,
No surplices, nor Service-book : —

and Falstaff's remark on the worthy Justice Shallow, that " a
came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes
to the overscutched huswives that he heard the carmen ivhistle,
and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights." Many

• A Satire on the Women. — P.

SITTINGE LATE.

401

other references to the sibilant powers of the sixteenth and
seventeenth century carmen are given by JNIr. Chappell, in his
Popular Music of Olden Time, a propos of the air called " The
Carmen's Whistle."

[page 317]

SiTTINGE : late, my selfe alone,

to heare the birds sweete harmonye,
one sighed sore w/th many a grone,

"my wiffe will still my jaaster bee ! "
his sig[h]es ecclipsed bright Phebus beanies,

his hart did burne like aetna hill,
his teares like Mlus flflowing streames,^

his cryes did peii-ce the Ecclio shrill.
With that I drew my eare aside

to heare him thus complaine of ill ;
his greefe & mind were both a-like,

that ginnye ^ his ffilly wold haue her owne will

The K-ing of Sirya mad a law,

that euery ^ man wtth-in his land,
that he shold lordly e keepe in awe

his wiffe, & those that did w^'th-stand.
which acte is cleane gone out of mind

of all degrees, & will be still ;
pore silly husbands are soe kind,

they let their wiues haue their OAvne will.

When Princely Paris, pride of Troye,

had stolen away 'King Menelaus w^iffe,
10 yeeres of waiT was all his loy,

& afterwards bereaued of liffe.
by this wee see that 'Kings are tyed,

as well as subiects, to much ill ;
why shold wee poore men thinke itt scorue

to let our wiues haue their owne will ?

I heard a
man

bewailing
that his
wife would
be his
master ;

he wept, and
cried shrilly.

and said his
filly would
have her
wiU.

Men won't
keep the
King of
Syria's law,
that men
shall keep
their wives
in order.

Paris got

ten years
war and his
death for
stealing his
wife.

If tlion kings
get into
trouble,

streans in the MS. — F.

MS. may be (/rimije. — F.

fo'^ every. — P.

402

SITTINGE LATE.

and Gods do
so too,

don't let us
mind about
letting our
wives have
their own
way.

Even

women
get their
husbands
into scrapes ;

All thai lookes blacke, diggs not ffor coles ;
how shold our cliyiniieys tlien be swept ?
& he tJiat thinkes to lumpe ore Powles, ^
32 may once a yeare be well out leapte ;
fFor vulcan wore a head of home ^
when least misprision was of ill.
lett no man liuing thinke itt scorne
36 to let his wiffe haue her owne will !

But shee thai lines by nille ^ & tape,
& w^'tli her bagge & lucett "* beggs,
oft makes her husband many a scape ^
40 although shee goes in simple raggs ;
ffor hungry doggs will alwayes range,

& vnsauory meate will staunch their fhll ;
& they thai take delight in change
44 will, Nolens Volens, haue their owne will.

and if a man
goes out,

his place
must be
supplied.

(But there
are no
cuckolds in
Kome.)

But he thai goes ifrom dore to dore,

& cryes "old buskins ffor new broome ;"
althoe his liuing be but jDoore,

another must supply his roome.
" old bootes & buskins ffor new broome !

come buy, ffaire maids, & take jour ffill !
there are no Cucholds made att Roome ;

Pope lone hath sett itt downe by will."

' Powles, i. e. St. Paul's. — P.

^ Note - in Brand's Popular Antiqui-
ties, ed. 1841, vol. ii.p. 126, col. 1, says,
" In ' Paradoxical Assertions and Philo-
sophical Problems, by E. H. 8vo. Lond.
1 664, p. 5, ' Why Cuckolds are said to
wear Horns ? ' we read : ' Is not this
monster said to wear the Horns because
other Men with their two forefingers
point and ^itake Horns at him ?' " "Cuck-
old. Cuckolled, treated in the way that

the cuckow (Lat. cucidus) serves other
birds, viz. by laying an egg in their
nest." Wedgwood. — F.

^ MS. iidle, but as the dot over the i
is very often misplaced in the MS. and
nill means needle, I print nille. — F.

* perhaps budget. — P. Fr. lucet or
luchi't is a spade. — F.

^ 1. A misdemeanoiu- ... 3. A trick,
shift, or evasion. Halliwell. — F.

SITTINGE LATE.

403

The Carman wMstles vp & downe ;

another cryes " will you buy any blacke ' ? "
the cuntryman is held a clowne,

when better men haue greater lacke.
thus whiles they cards are shuffled about,

the kuaue will in the decke ^ lye still ;
& if all secretts were found out,

I doubt a number wold want their will.

It's well
that all
wives'
secrets
are not
kuown.

ffins.

' ? Fr. noir, blacking, or pierre noire.
Black Oaker, or the blucko marking-
stone. — Cotgrave. It can't mean soot

or mourning. — F.

^ A pack of cards. Halliwell.

404

[In nine Parts. — P.]

Percy thought so well of the plot of this Eomance that he chose
it for analysis in his Reliques (v. iii. p. xii.-xvi. ed. 1765).
Speaking of " these old poetical Legends," he says, " it will be
proper to give at least one specimen of their skill [that is, the
skill of the writers of them], in distributing and conducting their
fable, by which it will be seen that nature and common sense had
supplied in these old simple bards the want of critical art, and
taught them some of the most essential rules of Epic Poetry. I
shall select the Romance of Libius Disconius, as being one of
those mentioned by Chaucer, and either shorter or more intelli-
gible than the others he has quoted.^ If an Epic Poem may be
defined, ' ^ A fable related by a poet, to excite admiration and
inspire virtue, by representing the action of some one heroe,
favoured by heaven, who executes a great design, spite of all the
obstacles that oppose him : ' I know not why we should withhold
the name of Epic Poem from the piece which I am about to
analyse."

' This Piece may be considered per- St. 224. — P.
haps as one of the first rude Attempts N.B. The Rhyme of Sir Thopas seems

towards the Epic or Narrative Poem in to be intended in Imitation of this old

Europe since the Roman Times. [See v. Piece. N.B. This is a translation from

i. p. 417, 1. 4.] Nor is it deffective the French. Vid. p. 327, st. 16 [of MS.

[so] in the most essential Parts of Epic p. 441, 1. 706 here]. — P
Poetry. The Hero is one. The great ^ Men speken of Romaunces of Price,
action to which every thing tends is one: Of Horne-Child and Ipotis,

there is little interruption of episode ; Of Bevis and Sir Guy,

& it [b]egins nearer the [E]vent than Of Sir Libeaux and Blandamoure,

most of that age. — P. But Sir Thopas bereth the floure

This appears to be more ancient Of riall chevallrie. — Rel. iii. p. viii.

than the Time of Chaucer. See The ^ Vide "Discours sur la Poesie

Rhyme of Sir Thopas quoted below, Epique," prefixed to Telemaqxje. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS, 405

The Bishop then gives a sketch of each of the nine Parts of the
Eomance, and winds up with, " Such is the fable of this ancient
piece : which the reader may observe, is as regular in its conduct
as any of the finest poems of classical antiquity. If the execution,
particularly as to the diction and sentiments, were but equal to the
plan, it would be a capital performance ; but this is such as
might be expected in rude and ignorant times, and in a barbarous
unpolished language." Poor times ! Why hadn't you a bishop
with a blacking-brush to make you shine ?

The subject of the story is one that, told in the language and
clothed with the feelings of each successive age, can never fail to
interest that age at least, — the adventures of a young unknown
man on his dangerous road from poverty to success in life, from
nameless obscurity to rank and fame, from the consciousness of
power existing only in the youth's own brain, to the full mani-
festation of that power, in the sight and with the applause of all
beholders, who rejoice to see it receive its fitting reward.

In the present instance, Lybius comes from his mother's apron-
strings, not knowing his father (he is Gawain's bastard ^) to Arthur's
court. He asks for knighthood, and the first adventure that comes
in. He gets both ; and his task is to free the Lady of Sinadowne
from prison. Though scorned for his youth by her messengers,
he conquers, one after another, thirteen formidable opponents,
of whom the first nine are Sir William de la Braunch, his three
cousins, two giants. Sir Gefferon, Sir Otes de Lisle, and the Giant
Mangys. A more insidious foe is behind, the sorceress of the
Golden Isle, whom our hero has rescued from Mangys. For a
year she keeps him from fulfilling his task ; but at last he breaks

' That story of rising from an obscure ever ignoble the woman, or ho-n'cvpr low

be"-inning is a very common one in me- the circumstances under which the child

diseval literature, and belongs to a prin- received its first nurture, the blood it

ciple of medifeval sentiment, that noble had received from the father would in-

blood was never lost, (bastardy was con- evitably urge it onward till it reached

sidered no real stain ; ) and that if a its natural station. Tliere are stories

knight, for instance, met with a woman illustrating this fooling in all its forms,

in a wood, and got her with child, how- — T. Wright.

406 LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

away from her, and goes to Sinadowne. There he conquers one
knight. Sir Lambers, and then two necromancers who have
turned the Lady of Sinadowne into a serpent. The serpent
kisses him, and at the kiss turns into a lovely princess, who
offers him herself and her lands. He accepts both, marries
the Lady, and carries her off to King Arthur's court.

The English Komance was first printed by Kitson from the
Cotton MS. Caligula A. ii. This text refers several times to its
original, " the Frenssch tale " (1. 2122, Ritson, ii. 90; 1. 222, ib.
10, &c.). On this, Eitson remarked, " The French original is
unknown," ii. 253. The same statement continued true for
many a year. Like the original of Sir Generides (which I edited
from Mr. Tollem ache's MS. for Mr. Gibbs as his gift-book to
the Roxburghe Club in 1865, and the French of which is still to
seek), the original of Lybeaus Disconus could not be found. But
a lucky purchase by one of our subscribers, the Due d'Aumale,
of a MS. volume of French poems, and a luckier placing by him
of it in the hands of Professor Hippeau of Caen in 1855, led
to the discovery of the long-hidden French Romance, Li Biaus
Desconneus, and also the name of its writer, Renals de Biauju,
or, — as M. Hippeau modernises it, — Renauld de Beaujeu. In
1860 M. Hippeau published the poem as Le Bel Inconnu, dating
its writer as of the thirteenth century. It is not certain that De
Biauju's text is the one that the English translators or adapters
worked from ; for in the two passages above referred to, where
the English text refers to the French tale as the authority for
its statements, De Biauju's text contains no such statements.
But that is not conclusive, for we know that our English
versifiers were seldom translators only : like our modern play-
wrights, they treated their French (or French-writing) originals
with great freedom, cut out what they didn't want, altered what
they didn't like, and put in incidents at discretion. As one
instance, take Robert of Brunne's treatment of William of

LIBIUS DISCONIUS. 407

Wadington's Manuel des Pechiez, detailed in my preface to the
Handlynrj Synne. De Biauju's text onay have given rise to
some lost later version which the English adapters handled ; but
I see no reason why the early French text which M. Hippeau
has printed may not have been before our early men. The
motive is the same in both stories, and the chief incidents are
the same, though in one — the way in which the Fairy of the
Grolden Isle, or La Damoiselle as Blances Mains, is represented,
and the latter part of the story told — they differ markedly.
And as in this part of the French poem M. Hippeau finds the
original of part of the story of Tasso's Gerusalemme Liberata,
it may be as well to give M. Hippeau's abstract, remembering
that the English version makes the lady a mere sorceress who
detains Lybius twelve months from pursuing the task that he
had vowed to accomplish, and then appears no more in the story.
The French text makes her keep him only a day before he has
freed the Lady of Sinadowne ; but after he has done this, and
she has offered herself and her lands to him, De Biauju introduces
the Fairy again — the English text saying nothing of her — and
makes Lybius halt at the Lady of Sinadowne's offer thus :

The offer is tempting ; but the laws of chivalry are opposed to his
pledging his troth without having received the authorisation of King
Ai'thur. All the barons of the pays de Galles arrive at the Cite
Gastee ; bishops and abbots also come to purify by their pious cere-
monies and their processions the places over which the infernal spirits
have cast a spell ; and, before all her baronage, Blonde Esmeree
declares that she has decided on taking Giglain as her spouse. A
deputation of lords goes to him, and the knight still answers to the
long request addressed to him, that he can do nothing without the
consent of King Arthur. It is the king who, in granting the princess
the help of one of his knights, has the right to all his gratitude. She
ought then to go to his court, with all her barons, to thank him.

The queen prepares to set out, in the sweet anticipation that the
valorous knight will accompany her in her journey. But widely
different feelings now move le Bel Incomm. He cannot di'ive from
his heart the recollection of the beautiful fairy of the He d'Or.

408 LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

The description of tliis unconquerable passion occupies a large
space in the story of onr trouvere. He finds happy expressions to
describe those torments of love which he appears, from the frequent
reference he makes to himself, to know only too well. Readers will
be astonished to see with what pliancy the language of the thirteenth
century lent itself to the developement of the most delicate shades of
feeling. Gigiain knows not at what point to stop. He dares not
return to the lie d'Or, which he left so abruptly ; he cannot, on the
other hand, drive away the too seductive image which besieges him
night and day. The advice of Robert, his faithful squire, decides
him on letting the daughter of the king of Galles set out alone. She
parts from him with the sadness of resignation, and he sets out for
the lie cV Or. But there his perplexities begin again. Shall he go and
present himself to the woman whose love he has seemed to disdain ?
He weeps, he laments, he is grievously distressed. But happily
Robert is always at his side : he has much more confidence than his
raaster in the kindly feelings of the fairy. She wanted to keep him,
she was angry at his going, she will then see him again with joy.

At length the dreaded interview takes place. Having reached the
magnificent fruit-garden (verger), which leads to the palace of the
lie (VOr, a delightful garden which contains all of most perfect that
God has created upon earth, Gigiain and his companion perceive the
Fairy of the White Hands (fee mix blanches mains), and the former
at once directs his steps towards her. The fairy receives him with
an appearance of anger, which soon vanishes under the tender pro-
testations of love with which Gigiain accompanies the explanations
that he gives her. She asks nothing better than to forgive him, and
she conducts the happy knight into her castle.

If the passion of Gigiain was violent when he was far from the
Fairy of the Golden Isle, how can he resist it when he finds himself
in the middle of her palace, where all the attendants, keeping discreetly
at a distance, soon leave him alone with her ?

We are, you will perceive, in the midst of the palace of Armida.
The situation of our knight in this charming abode, recalls, in fact,
quite naturally, that which made Rinaldo forget, in the bosom of the
delights in which an enchantress held him, his most sacred duties
and the glory of combat. How, and by means of what changes, have
the adventures of Gigiain in the castle of the Golden Isle become one
of the most interesting episodes of the Geriisalemme Liherata ? ^ It is

' On La Bame d' Amove of the Cotton observes, v. ii. p. 263, " This lady bears
text (and ours, p. 470, 1. 1508), Kitson a strong resembhuice to the no less

LIBIUS DISCO.MUS. 409

a study wliich would require long unfoldiugs {developements), and
which we may try elsewhere when we have to occupy ourselves with
the translations or imitations of which the poems of our trouveres
have been the object among- the different nations of Europe.

However that may be, we shall only follow ^vith reserve the French
poet in this part of his story, where he indulges a little too much, like
his brethren of the same epoch, in the descriptive style. The fairy
would not have been a woruan if, notwithstanding her tenderness for
le Bel Inconnu, she had completely forgotten the insult done to her
charms, however honourable mighty have been the cause which took
him the first time from the Golden Isle. She forgives him, but only
after having revenged herself slightly. It is not in vain that he
inhabits an enchanted palace. During the night he is twice a prey
to a frightful illusion. He wakes and starts up ; he seems to be
bearing on his head the whole roof of the hall ; he calls to his help
all the attendants of the fairy. They run to him and find him
struggling with his pillow, which is over his head. The second time,
he gets out of bed and arrives at a torrent, which he crosses on a
narrow plank ; terror seizes him ; he thinks that the quivering waves
draw him in ; he clings to the plank -with all his might, and then
calls the whole house to his help. They find him grasping with his
two hands a sparrow-hawk's perch.

The Lady of the Golden Isle thinks him sufiiciently punished. We
Avill here leave our author a second time to add, to his glory, that we
find again in his poem the means employed by the Italian poet to
snatch his hero from the seductions of Armida.

We left the daughter of the king of Gcdles journeying but joylessly
towards King Arthur's court. She there experiences a reception
worthy of her ; all the knights share her grief when she informs them
that the warrior to whom she owes her deliverance, has not accom-
panied her, and that she knows not whither he has directed his steps.
Arthur knows well how to bring back to him the most illustrious
of the knights of the Round Table. He has a grand tournament
proclaimed all over the coiintry. One day two players (jongleurs)
present themselves at the castle of the Golden Isle, and penetrate
even to le Bel Inconnu. They announce to him the feast of arms
pi'epared by King Arthur. At this news, Giglain hesitates not an
instant ; he forgets his love, to think only of glory. In vain does

mngical tlinn boaufcons fairys, the and Eogoro in the manner la dame
Calypso of HonuT, and the Alcina of (Vamorc here treats Lylieaiis."
Ariosto; both of whom detaiu'd Ulysses

VOL. II. E E

410 LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

the beautiful fairy try to hold him back. She knows beforehand, in
her double quality of woman and fairy, that the love of the handsome
knight cannot be eternal. She has had to prepare herself long since
to lose him. I like better, I declare, the jealous fury of Armida than
the easy resignation of the Fairy of the White Hands.

'At break of day, Giglain, who had gone to bed the night before in
the palace of the Golden Isle, wakes and finds at his side his horse
and his squire Robert, in the middle of a dark forest, whither the all-
power of the fairy had transported him. Though he is a little sur-
prised at what has happened, he takes his fate bravely, and sets
forward without delay towards the place assigned as the rendezvous
of the paladins (adventure-seeking heroes) who are to take part in
the tournay.

Though the narratives which have as their subject these brilliant
jousts are generally the parts treated by the authors of our poems
with a partiality jvistified by the desire of pleasing the noble lords for
whona they wrote, ifc would be difficult to find a tournament which
could sustain comparison with that of Valedon. Walter Scott would
seem ^ to have been inspired by it in his account of the famous passage
of arms at Ashby. It is needless to say that all the honour of the
day belongs to le Bel Inconnu. The heat of the battle has dissipated
the last vestiges of his love for the Fairy of the White Hands. Having
married the princess of Galles, he delays not to go and take possession
of the crown which so many high deeds have rendered him worthy of.

All this tantalising of the Lady of Sinadowne, keeping her
waiting for her lover after she had been so many j^ears serpentised
or wivernised by the two necromancers, the English adapter has
thought unfair, and cut out. Must not we sympathise with him ?
What should we have said to Mr. Tennyson if he had kept The
Sleeping Beauty waiting a year for her husband after she had
been kissed? Voted him a hard-hearted Frenchman, clearly.
But of course he has done nothing so wrong. Well, besides this,
the adapter has, as remarked in the notes, cut out all about
Eenals de Biauju's own lady-love, for whom he composed the
poem — had the poor Englishman no sweetheart? — all about

' As he died in 1832, and the French there is some difficulty in this semblerait
Romance was not published till 1860, s^cn etrc inspire.

LllilUS DISCONIUS. 411

Rohevs, Lybius's squire, an important personage in the French
Eomanee ; and all about the French tale of the Falcon (though
the English Part IV. may be taken to represent this), &c. &c.

On the other hand, the adapter introduces a fresh Part (IV.)
into the English text ; puts in the incident of Lybius's diving
down at a knight and slicing his head off (p. 492) as a sort of
refresher before encountering the necromantic perils of the
Castle of Sinadowne ; and also alters the place of the adventure
Avith Sir William de la Braunch's (or Bliobleris's) three cousins,
putting it before, instead of after, the tight with the two giants
(p. 433-7, and p. 438-41), besides many minor variations. The
telling of the story varies all through ; but so far as I can judge,
the original French of De Biaiiju is a far better piece of work
than that of any of his adapters.

Of English MSS. of Lyblus 1 know only five: the Cotton
Caligula A ii., printed by Ritson and M. Hippeau ; the fragment
in the Lincoln's Inn jMS. 150; the Lambeth MS. 306; our
Percy folio, and the Ashmole MS. 61, leaf 38, back, of which
Mr. Coxe, Bodley Librarian, has just told me. Of these I judge
the Lincoln's Inn vellum one to be the oldest, both in writing
(ab. 1430-40 A.D.), and in its preservation of the early double
vowel for the later single one, ]?eo, seo]>]>e, heold, feol. The
paper Cotton MS. comes next (ab. 1460 a.d.); third, the Ash-
mole 61, on paper, written towards the end of the 15th century,
says Mr. Coxe, containing 2200 lines more or less, and beginning
" Ihesu Cryst owre Sauyowre"; then the Lambeth one, also on
paper (? about 1480 a.d.), and lastly the Percy. The Cotton
text is interesting on account of its changes of d and th^. which
I suppose to be of Berkshire origin, — if one may judge from

' The d is substituted for th in the de, thee, 1. 673. On the other hand, th

following, among other instances: — dii?-- is put for d, in nnther, iinder, 1. 1039,

siifffe, thirsted, 1. 1336; durste, thirst,!. 1. 1002, 1. 1191; thoghtyer, doughtier,

lM2>;clod(de,c\ot\\eA,\.\'^01;ydodeth, 1. 1091; but doghty, 1. 1578, and

clothed, 1. 1776; dydyr, thither, 1. 1668; thovghty, 1. 1851 ; tluer, deer, 1. 1133 ;

but Myrfer, 1. 2082; (/rtrr, there, 1. 1870; ihcre, dearly, 1. 1158; thorcs, doors,

EK 2

412 LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Mr. Tom Hughes's books, — or some county near.^ The infini-
tive in y also shows that the text is Southern ^ : amiy, arm,
1. 216 ; jiisty, joust, 1. 909, 1. 951, but juste, \. 1542 ; schevjy,
show, 1. 746 ; spendy, spend, 1, 986, &c.

Grateful as I feel to M. Hippeau for his discovery and printing
of the French text, I owe him a slight grudge for describing
"I'auteur du Canterbury Tales''' as " le poetique traducteur de nos
trouveres," and therefore note that his print of the Cotton MS. is
full of those mistakes that "a remarkably intelligent foreigner"
would naturally make, u for n, and n for u, &c. ^ ; to say
nothing of other forms like pryue for }>ryue, thrive; kepte for
lepte, 1. 2039; he for he, 1. 1388; thog/i tyer for thoghtyer,
doughtier, 1. 1091 ; he for here, her, 1. 887 ; giuych for swycb,
such, 1. 712 ; Siveyn for Eweyn, 1. 219 ; lymest, for lyme &, lime
and, ]. 713.

It may look rather spiteful to print these things, but editors
are bound to consider the language they study rather than other
editors' feelings ; and with the full conviction that I invite similar
treatment for the French as well as the English texts I have
edited and may edit, and that in all there are and will be
mistakes,"* I hold it best to point out the misreadings in Early
English that come across me, for the sake of the language and

1. 1705; i'Ao, do, 1. 531, &c., and in many zewy?' but never, ' Wnll ye zewy up

other places. 1 just copy the few that I thease zeam ? ' " — Bnmes, p. 28.

noted years ago on a blank leaf, when ^ deutes for dentes, 1. 1304; fou for

reading part of M. Hippeau's edition. fon, foes, 1. 1530, 1. 1950; sauugh for

' Probably Dorsetshire. I heard (^row sauiij, Fr. saws, without 1. 1860 [In J>at

for throw near Weymouth this autumn, felde saunj fayle. MS. leaf 65, back,

and Mr. Barnes says in his Grammar col. 1, line 18. See the last lines of

and Glossary of the Dorset Dialect, 1863, the pieces in note, p 413] ; hau for han,

p. 16, " 27i of the English sometimes, have, 1. 1263 ; wo!(e/^ for woneth, dwells,

and mostly before r, becomes d, as drow 1. 657 ; gau for gan, did, 1. 343 ; descryne

for throw. Conversely, th (8) is sub- for descryue, describe, 1. 1330, 1. 1428;

stituted in Dorset for the English d, as honede for houede, halted, 1. 1562; Jce-

Wa<5cr, a bladder, ^«c5er, a ladder." Mr. . jjere for keuere, recover, 1. 1983; lencdo

Hughes says he does not remember hear- for leuede, lived, 1. 2125.

ing this th and d change in Berkshire. ■* Claude Platin's confession, " man ig-

'^ " In the Dorset the verb takes _y only norancc, hiquelle oust ^ms petite" (page

when it is absolute, and never with an 415 here), is the motto for many of us,

accusative case. We may say, ' Can ye adding curelessness.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

413

its students. But to return from tliis digression ; the Lambeth
MS. is in " The Wright's Chaste Wife " volume, and seems to be
a later copy of a text like the Cotton. Some readings from it
are given in the notes from Mr. Warwick King's transcript
of it for the Early English Text Society. By way of exhibiting
some of the differences of the five English texts, I put beside the
first bit of the Lincoln's Inn fragment the passages corresponding
to it in the other MSS.,' and at the end of the Eomance as

' Lincoln's Inn MS. 150, Art. 1,
faded, begins.
t>an sir libeus ran
J>;ir Manges selield lay,

And vp he con hit fange :
fast he ran to him.
And smot him wijp mayn,

And other gon asa[ile.]
vnto J'eo day was dyme . .
Bysyde \>ei> water

\>eo kynges heold bataile.
Libeus was warryour wy3t.
And 3af a strok of niy3t

t»oww3 gepouH [?] plate and maile,
)joru3 his scholdur bon,
J^at his ry3t arm anon

feol in i^eo feld saunfaile.

MS. Lambeth 306, leaf 9i, back.
Than lybeous ranne aw-waye
There Mangis shelde laye.
And vp he gaii hit fange.
And ran a-gayne to hym.
AVith strokys sharpe and gryme

Eyther other ganne assayle.
Till the day was dyme,
Vpon the watir brym

By-twene hem was bataylle.
Lybeous was werrco!«r wight.
And smote a stroke of myght

Throwe lepowne, plate, and mayle,
Thorowe the shulderbone.
That his Eight Armo A-none [leaf 95J
Ffell in the felde sannce fayle.

Ash mole MS.
Than lybeus ranne A-wey
There mag«s seheld ley,

And vp he gane it ionge ;
And libeus rawne to hy»t A-3eno, [leaf 52'']
And smote hym w(tA meyne ;
Aythere o\>er ganc A-seyle.
To )>e dey was dy/«rae,
Be-syde J^e wattr bry?«me

Cot. Calig. A. ii. leaf oQ, col. \.
l>artue lybeauus ran away
Yeve \>at mangys seheld lay,

And vp he gan hyt fonge,
And Ran a-gayn to hym. rcol. 2]

\\ith strokes strout & grym

To-gydere ]>ey goHne a-sayle.
Be-syde \>at ryuere brym,
Tylle hN-t derkede dym,

Be-twene hem was batayle.
Lybeauus Avas werroure wy3t,
And smot a strok of my3t

J>oru3 gypelk, plate, & maylle,
Fori' w/tA J^e scholderc bon,
Mangys arm fylle of a-noon

In-to J^e feld saun3 fayle.

Percy Folio, p. 337.
then Szr Lybius ranu away
thither were Mangis sheild Lay ;

& vp he can itt gett,
& ran againe to him,
w/th stroakes great and grim

together they did assayle ;
there beside the watter brimne
till it vased wonderous drimn,

betweene them lasted that battell.
S/r Lybius was warryour wight,
& smote a stroke of much might ;

through hawberke, plate and maile,
liee smote of by the shoolder bone
his right arme soone and anon

into the flPeild with-out ffaile.

61, leaf o'2.

The kny3htcs held bateyle.
Syre libeus was weryoiire wy3ht,
And gane strokes of my3ht

Throu3ht plate and male,
And throw his schiikhr bone.
That hys ryght Anne A none

Fell in Jje feld witA-outeM feyle.

414 LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Yjrinted liere, p. 497, will be found the endings of the Lincoln's
Inn, Cotton, Lambeth, and Ashmole texts, for further contrast
with the language of the Percy folio. I have not had time to
collate them throughout, and Mr. Brock, who began the collation
with the Cotton MS., soon gave it up as involving too much
time and trouble for an adequate result, the second volume of
Kitson being easily accessible to all readers.

Eitson says that this Eomance
was certainly printed before the year IGOO, being mention'd by the
name of " Libhius,'' in " Vertues common wealth : or The highway to
honour," by Henry Crosse, publish'd in that year; and is even
alluded to by Skelton, who dye'd in 1529 :

And of sir Lihius named Disconius

A story similar to that which forms the principal subject of the
present poem may be found in the "Voiage and travail e of sir John
Maundeville " (London, 1725, 8vo. P. 28). It, likewise, by some
means, has made its way into a pretendedly ancient Northhumbrian
ballad intitle'd "The laidly worm of Spindleston-hengh," writen, in
reality, by Robert Lambe, vicar of Norham, authonr of The history
of chess, &c., who had, however, hear'd some old stanzas, of which
he avail'd himself, sung by a maid-servant. The remote original of
all these storys was, probablely, much older than the time of
Herodotus, by whom it is relateed (Urania).

In French there was a prose translation of a Spanish romance
mixing up a Charlemagnian hero with our Arthurian Gyngelayn,
printed in 1530, which Brunet (ed. 1814) enters thus:

GiGLAN (I'histoire de), fits de messire Gauvain, qui fut roi de Galles ;
et de Geofiroy de Mayence, son compaignon : translate d'espaignol en
fran9ois par Claude Platin, Lyon, CI. Nourry, 1530, Mt-4. goth. Jig.

This is, says M. Hippeaii, a fairly correct reproduction of the
French Li Biaus Besconneus, " sauf quelques additions pen
heureuses." His extract from Claude Platin's prologue is so
pretty that I give it here :

Pour eviter oysivete, mere et nourrice des vices, et aussi pour
complaire a tons ceulx qui prennent plaisir a lire et a ouyr lire les
li\a'es des anciens, qui out vescu si vertueusement en leur temps,

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

415

que la renomee en sera jusques a la fin du siecle, lesquelles oeuvres
vertueuses doivent esmouvoir les cueurs des liumains de les ensuyvir
en vertus en haultz faitz, moi FniiRE Claude Platin, liiunble religieux
de I'ordre monseigneur sainct Anthoine, ung jonr, en une petite
librairie oii j'estoye, trouvay un gros livre de parchemin bien vieil,
escript en rime espaignole, assez difficile a entendre, auquel trouvay
une petite hystoire laaqelle me sembla bien plaisante, qui parloit de
deux nobles cbevaliers qui furent du temps du noble roi Artus et des
nobles chevaliers de la Table-Ronde. . . J'ay done voulu translator la
dicte hystoire de cette rime espaignole, en prose francoyse, au moins
nial que j'ay pen, selon mon petit entendement, a celle fin que plus
facilement peust estre entendue de ceulx qui prendront plaisir a la
lire ou ouyr lire : ausquelz je prie que les faultes qui y seront trouvees,
ils les vueillent corriger, et excuser mon ignorance, laquelle n'est pas
petite ; et aussi de ne se arrester ausdictes faultes, mais s'il y a riens
de bon, qu'ilz en facent leur prouffit.

With what better commendation to the reader can I close this
rambling Introduction, or leave him to study the poem of " The
Fayre Unknown " ?

^ IeSUS Christ, Christen Kinge,^
& his mother thai sweete thing,^

lielpe them att their neede
thai will listen to my tale !
of a knight I will you tell,'*
a doughtye man of deede,

Christ and
Mary

help my
heai'ers I

I'U tell you

• The Eomance in the Cotton MS.
Caligula A ii. begins thus :

INCIPIT LYBEATJS DISCONIUS.

^ Ihesu cryst oure sauyoure,

And hys modyr j^rtt swete flowre,

Helpe hem at herf nede
\>c(t harkene]? of a co^queronr^",
"Wys of wytte, & whj^t werroMr,

And dou3ty man yn dede.

Hys name was called Geynlej-n ;
Ee-yete he was of syr Gaweyn

Bo a forest syde.
Of stouterc kny3t & prafytable

\iiih artoure of l^e Eounde table,
Ne herde ye neucr liede.

^ {jys Gynleyn was fayre of sy^t,
Gentylle of body, of face brj^t,

Alle bastard 3ef he were.
Hys modyr kepte hym yn clos
For douute of wj-kkede loos,

As dou3ty chyld & dere. — F.

* cure sauyoure. — C.

* flowrf. — C.

'' t'rtt harkenel" of a co5;qnerourc
wys of wytto & why3t werroi(r. — C.

416

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

of Ginglaine,

bastard son
of Sir
Gawaine.

liis name was cleped ' Ginglaine ;
gotten he was of Sir Gawaine

vnder a fForrest side ;
a better ^ kniglit without fFablc,^
With Arthur att the round table,

yee heard neuer of read.

[page 318]

His mother
tried to
prevent hira
seeing a
knight,

because he
was savage.

Gingg]aine was ffaire & bright,*
an hardye man and a wight, ^

bastard thoe hee were.
•^ his mother kept him with, all lier might,
ffor he shold not of noe armed Knight

haue a sight in noe mannere.
but he was soe sauasre,
& lightlye wold doe outrage

to his ffellowes in ffere.^
his mother kejDt him close
ffor dread ^ of wicked losse,

as hend ^ child and deere.

His mother
called him
Beaufise
because he
was
handsome.

One day

ffor 3 hee was soe ffaire & wise,'*'
his mother cleped him beufisc,''

& none other name ;
& himselfe was not soe wise '^
that hee asked not I- wis

what hee hight ^^ of his dame,
soe itt beffell vpon a day
Gingglaine ** went to play,

' called.— C.

^ stoutere. — C.

^ & profytaLle.— C.

* of sy3r. — C.

^ Gentylk of body, of face bryjt. — C.
6—6 p.fom his to ffere omitted in C. — F.
' douiite. — C.

* dou^ty. — C.

^ [And] for, i.e. because. — P.
'" And forfl loue of liys fayre vyys.

" Beau-vise.— P. bewfis.— C.
'- was fiille nys. — C.
'3 what he was called ; wh«t his Name
■was. See St. II. — P.
'< To wode he.— C.

LIBIUS DISCOKIUS.

417

wild deere to hunt fFor game ;
& as he went oner the Lay,
he spyed a knight was stout & gay,
36 tliai soone he made ifull tame.^

he sees a
knight,
kills him,

then he did on ^ thai 'Knights weede,
& himselfe therin yeede,^

into that rich armoure ;
& when he had done that deede,
to Grlasenbury s"\vithe "* hee }■ eede,

there Lay Kuig Arthur,
& when he came into the hall
amonge the Lords and Ladyes all,

he grett ^ them with honore,
And said, " K-ing Arthur, my Lord ! *'
suffer me to speake a word,

I pray you par amoure ^ :

puts on his
armour,
goes to
Glaston-
bury, to
King
Arthur,

and asks
Arthur

^ " I am a child vncouthe ;
come I am out of the south,

& wold be made a knight.
14 yeere old I am,
& of warre well I cann,

therfore grant me my right."
then said Arthur the King strong
to the child that was soe younge,^

to knight
him, as he's
fourteen,
and can
fight.

> The Cotton MS, reads :
He fond a knyjt, -whare he lay,
In armes ];>at were stout & gay,
I-sclayne & made fulle tame. — F.

2 f«t chyld dede of.— C.

* And anon he gan hym schrede. — C,
■• prompte, Jun. — P.

* did greet. — P.

^ Mais cil li dist : " Ains m'eseoutes.
Artu, veniis sui a ta cort ;
Car n'i faura, comment qu'il cort,
Del primier don que je querrai :

Aurai-le je, u le j' faurai ?
Donne-le moi et n'i penser
Tant esprendre ; ne 1' dois veer."
" Je le vos dons : ce dist li rois."

Le Bel Inconnu, 1. 82-9, p. 4.
' par-amour, or perhaps poixr amour ;
it is not here a compound word, signi-
fying Mistress ; but is a Phrase equiva-
lent to that [in] St. 14, lin. 3.— P.

* Tliis stanza is omitted in C. The
Lamhcth MS. 306 has it.— F.

" A-noon -w/tAoute any dwcllyng. — C.

418

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

asks him his
name.

Ginglaine

says he
doesn't
know,

Imt his
mother
calls liim
Beaufise.

Arthur says
" by God it's
odd you

don't know
your own
name !

" tell me what thou liiglit ' ;
for neuer sithe I was borne
sawe I nener lieere beforne ^
60 noe child soe ffaire of sight."

the child said, " by St. larae,^
I wott not* what is my name !
I am the more vn wise * ;
64 but when I dwelled att home,^
my mother in her game
cleped mee beaufise."
then said'^ Arthur the K.ing,
68 & said, " this is a wonderous thing,
by god & by S' Denise,
that thou wold be a 'K.nighi,
& wott nott what thou hight,
72 & art soe ffaire and wise^ !

I'll give you
one

that your
mother
never called
you,

and that is
Lybius
Disconius "
(the fair
unknown,
or handsome
stranger).

" now I will giue thee a name
heere amonge all you in-same ;
for thou art soe ffaire and free, —
76 I say, by god & by S' lame,
soe cleped thee neuer thy dame,

what woman that euer shee bee ;-
call yee him all tliius,^
80 Lybius Disconius '*' ;
ffor the loue of mee
looke yee call him this name ;
both in ernest & in game,
84 certes, soe hight shall liee.'^ "

\>yn name aply3t. — C.
Ne fond y me be-fore. — C.
Cil li respont : "Certes ne sai,
Mais que tant dire vos en sai,
Que bielfil m'apieloit ma mere ;
Ne je ne sai se je oi pere."

Le Bel Inconnu, 1. 1 15-1 8, p. 5
I not— C. * nys. — C

hame, idem. — ^P. ' spake. — F.

fayreofvys. — C. ' tlnis. — P.

'" lybeau desconus. — C. The French
has, p. :

" Et, por ce qu'il ne se connuist,
li BiAus Desconneus ait non !
Si I'nommeront tot mi baron."
Le beaux Desconus, i.e. the fair un-
known. — P.
" Jsan may ye wete a rowe
\>e fayre vnknowe
Sertes so hatte he. — C.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

419

"Khig Arthur anon-riglit
"With a sword ffaire & bright/

trulye that same day
dubbed thai Child a knight,^
And gane him armes bright ^ ;

fForsooth as I you say,
hee gaue to him. in that ilka
a rich sheeld all ouer gilte

w/th a griffon soe gay,*
& tooke him to Sir Gawaine ^
ffor to teach him on the plaine

of euery princes ^ play.'^

Tlien Arthur

knights

Lybius.

[page 319] gives him
arms

and a shield,

and asks
Gawaine to
teach him.

100

104

108

when hee was made a knight,
of the boone ^ he asked right,^

& said, " my Lord soe ffree,
in my hart I wold be glad
the fiirst battell if I had

that men asked of thee."
then said Arthur the King,
" I grant thee thine askinge,

whatt battell that euer itt bee ;
but euer methinke thou art to young
ffor to doe a good ^^ ffighting,

by ought that I can see.

Lybius

asks Arthur

to let him
have the
first fight
that turns
up.

Arthur
grants this,

but thinks

he's too
j-Qung to
figlit well.

when he had him thus told,
Dukes, Erles, and Barons bold,^'

' Made hym \)0 a knyjt.— C.
- And yaf hym amies bryjt. — C.
^ Hym gertto ■with swerde of niy3t.
-C.

* gryffoiin of say. — C.

* And hym be-tok hys fadyr gaweyn.
-C.

" eche knyjtes. — C.

^ An a seems to have been blotted out

after the 1/ in the MS.— F.

" Other boone, or another boone, or
One other D°.— P.

* Anon a bone \>cr he bad. — C.

'° thing, which follows, has been
marked out in the MS. — F.

" W/t^ oute more resoun
Duk, Erl & baroun. — C.

420

LI13IUS DISCONIUS.

Then all
dine off wiUl
fowl and
venison.

Soon

come in hot

haste a
damsel and
a dwarf.

Her name is
Hellen ;
she brings a
message
from a lady,

and is clad
in green.

washed & went to meate ;
112 of wild fFoule ^ and venison, ^
as lords of gi'eat renowne,

inonglie tliey had to eate.
they had not sitten not a stoure,
116 well the space of halfe an hower,
talking att their meate,^
there came a damsell att that tyde,''
& a dwarffe ^ by her side,
120 all sweating *^ ffor heate ;

the Maidens name was Hellen ;
sent shee was vnto the King,^
a Ladyes messenger.
124 the maiden was ware & wise,

& cold doe her message att device,®

shee was not to ffere ^ ;
the maid was flfaire & sheene,
128 shee was cladd all in greene ''^ ;

& flPiirred 1^ with Blaundemere '^ ;

' take y? heddes of [ = off] all felde
byrdes and wood byi-des, as fesande, pe-
cocke, partryche, woodcoeke, and curlewe,
for they ete in tlieyr degrees foule thynges,
as wormes, todes, and othei- suche. Bo/ce
of Keruynge in Babees Book &c., E. E.
T. Soc. p. 279. See the capital bit
about venison from Andrew Borde, ib.
p. 210-11.— F.

* Of allp manere fusoun. — C.

^ Ne hadde artoure bote a whyle
\ie mouHtaunce of a myle
At liys table y-sete. — C.

* a mayde Ryde. — C.
» dwerk.— C.

* be-swette. — C.

' Gentylle bryjt & schene. — C.
8 i.e. Will, Pleasure. See Chau^
Gloss.— P.

* )>er nas coHtesse ne quene
So semelyche on to seue
]>at niy3te be here pere. — C.

'« Sche was clodejj in tars

Rowme & nodyng skars. — C.
"' pelured. — C.

'2 Blaunchmer, a kind of fur.

He wjire a cyrcote that was grene ;
With blaunchmer it was furred, I weue.
SyrBegore, 701 in Halliwell's Glossary.

This word comes in so oddly that I
could almost be tempted to think that
Chaucer in his burlesque Romance of
Sir Thopas might allude to it sportively,
as thus :

Sir Libeaux and the* Blaundemere
SciU the Blaundemere Eurr mentioned
in his Romance &c. But after all per-
haps this construction is too forced.

N.B. It might be the other Version
VfhicYi Chaucer alludes to.

See Chaucer's Rhyme of Sir Thopas,
where this word seems to be mistaken,
viz.:

Men speken of Romauncos of Pris,

Of Hornechild and of Ipotis
Of Bevis & Sir Gie

Of Sir Libeaux and Blaindamoure

But Sir Thopas bereth the flowre
Of rich Chivabie.— P.

* (or his)

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

421

her saddle was ouergiltc,
& well bordered w/th silke,^
132 & white ^ Avas her distere.^

the dwarfe was cladd w;'th scarlett ffinc,
& flfured well w/th good ^Ermine ; ■'
stout he was & keene ^ ;
136 amonge all christen kind

such another might no man find ^ ;

his cercott ^ was of greene ^ ;
his haire was yellow as fflower on mold,'"
140 to his girdle hang ^' shining as gold/^
the sooth to tell in veretje ;
all '^ his shoone with gold were dight,
all as gay as any ''' knight,
144 there sseemed no pouertye.

The dwarf

wears

scarlet,

is stout.

ha* long
yellow hair.

Teddelyne was his name,'^
wide sprang of him the fame,'''
East, west, North & south ;
148 much he cold of game & glee,

is named
Teddelyne,

' Here saddle & here brydelle yn fere
Fullc of dyamandys were. — C.
The author of the French Eomance gives
a fuller description of Maid Hellen, or
Helie as he calls her. Doubtless it is
his own love, for whom he composed the
Eomance, whom he sketches.

Gente de cors et de vis biele :

D'un samit estoit bien vestue ;

Si biele riens ne fu veue.

race ot blance com flors d'este,

Come rose ot vis colore,

Le iouls ot vairs, bouce riant,

Les mains blances, cors avenant ;

Bel cief avoit, si estoit blonde :

N'ot plus biel cief feme del monde !

En son cief ot un eerclo d'or ;

Ses perles valent un tresor

Sor un palefroi cevau^-oit. (p. 6.) — F.

2 Melk.— C.

3 apud Chauc. Bcstrcr, a AVur-horse, or

Led Horse. Vid. Gloss. — P.

■• One stroke too few in this word in
the MS.— F.

* {:e dwerke was clode)? yn ynde
Bo-fore & ek be-hynde. — C.

« pert.~C.

' timd in the MS.— F.

* Surcoat — A gown & hood the same,
an upper coat, Ch. Gloss. — P.

" was ouert. — C.

'" as ony wax. — C. Not in the French.
— F.

" hung. — P. '2 iienge j,p p]gx. — C.

" als, also.— P.

'^ And kopeh as a. — C.

'^ The French Eomance doesn't name
him till he and Hellen leave the court,
and it calls him Tidogohtins, 1. 2.56,
p. 10.— F. Teaudelayn.— C.

'« MS. same.— F. fame.— P. wellc
bwydo sprong hys name. — C.

422

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

is a pood
fiddler,

minstrel
and jester

a iolly man
witti ladies.

152

156

ffiddle, crowde,' and sowtrye,

he was a merrj man of mouth ^ ;

harpe, ribble ' & sautrye,

he cold much of Minstrelsye,
he was a good lestoure,

there was none such in noe country ;

a lolly man fforsooth was hee
with Ladyes in their bower.

Hellen gives
Arthur her
message :

160

then he bade maid Hellen
fFor to tell her tale by-deene,

& kneele before the King,
the maid kneeled in the hall
among the Lords & Ladyes all,

& said, " my Lord ! w^'thout Leasing

her lady, of
Sinadone,
is in distress,

and begs for
a kniglit to
figlit for her.

Lybius at
once

164

168

172

" There is a strong case toward ;
there [is] none such, nor soe hard,

nor of soe much doloiu'.
my ■* Lady of Sinadone
is brought to strong prison,

that was of great valoure ;
shee prayes you of ^ a Knight
ffor to win her in ffight

With ioy & much honor." ^
vp rose that younge Knight,

[page 320]

* A kind of fiddle.— F.

* Myche he coufie of game,
•with sytole sautyre yn same
harpe fydele & croiifje. — C.

* There is none of this in the French.
— F. Al can they play on gitterne and
rubible. Cook's Tale. The giterne was
a small guitar, and the ribiblo a small
fiddle played by a bow, and not by hand
as the giterne was. Jerome of Moravia
says of the ribble, Ribible, or Ribibe :
— " Est autem ruheba musicum instru-
mentum habens solum duas cordas sono
distantes a se perdiapente, quod quidem,

sicut et viella, cum arcu tangitur." — W. C.
ribble, a fiddle or guittern, Gl. Ch. — P.

* MS. ny.— F.
^ of you. — P.

* The French adds some lines about
the kiss, on which so much turns at the
end :

" Certes moult auroit grant honnor

Icil qui de mal I'estordroit,

Et qui le Fier Baisier feroit.

Mais pros que il li a mestier !

Onques n'ot tel a chevalier.

Ja mauvais hom lo don ne quiere ;

Tot en giroit en vers en biere ! " (p. 8.)

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

423

in his hart he was flPall light,
& said, " my Lord Arthur,

" my couenant is to haue iliai fight
176 fFor to winne thai Lady bright,
if thou be true of word."
the King said without othe,
" thereof thou saiest soothe,
ISO thereto I beare record ;

claims the

fight.

Arthur
assigns it
to him.

184

188

192

196

"god thee giue strenght & might
ffor to wiune thai Ladye bright

With sheeld & with speare dint ! "
then began the maid to say,
& said, " alas thai ilke day

thai I was hither sent ! "
shee said, " this word will spring wyde ;
Sir King, lost is all thy pride,

and all thy deeds is shent,'
when thou sendest a child
^7iat is wittlesse & wild,

to deale doughtilie wz'th dint !
thou hast K.iiighis of mickle maine,
Sir Perciuall & Sir Gawaine,

jBTull wise in Tumament."
tho ^ the dwarffe with great error ^
went vnto King Arthur,

& said, " Sir ! verament

Maid Hellen
grumbles.

and says it's
a disgrace to
Arthur

to send a
witless child
to fight,

when he has
knights like
Gawaiiie &c.

Dwarf
Ted'lelyne

200

204

" this child to be a Avarryour,
or to doe such a Labor,

itt is not worth one ffarthing !
or * hee thai Ladye may see,
hee shall haue battells 5 or three

trulye w/thout any Leasinge ;

' are shent, i. e. disgraced. — P.
2 then.— P.

^ Errour course, running.
* i.e. before. — P.

sa}-s the
child isn't

worth a
farthing.
He'll have to
tight five
battles
before
reaching
Sinadone ;

HalliwelL— F.

424

LIBIUS BISCONIUS!.

the first at
the Bridge
of Perils.

Lybius says
he's not
afraid;

he can
fight,

and will
never give
in : such is
Arthur's
law.

Hellen

sneers at
Ljbius,

and Tedde-
lyne tells
him

to go and
suck his
mammy.

Ai-thur says
" By God
you shall
have nobody
else."

" att the bridge of perill
beside the aduenturous cliappel],
there is the fiirst begining."
208 S/r Lybius anou answered
& said, " I was neiier affeard
flbr no mans threatuinge !

" somewhat haue I lerd ^
212 ffor to play wrth a swerd

there men hath beene slowe.^
the man that fBeethe fFor a threat
other ^ by way or by streete,
216 I wokl he were to-draw.
I will the battell vndertake ;
I ne will neuer fforsake,

fFor such is Arthurs La we."
220 the made ■* answered alsoe suell,^
& said, " that beseemeth thee well !
Avho-soe looketh on thee may know

224

228

232

" thou ne durst for thj" berde
abpd '' the wind of my '' swerde,

by ought that I can see ! "
then said that dwarffe in that stond,
" dead men that lyen on the ground,

of thee affrayd may bee ;
but betweene ernest & game,
I counsell thee goe souke ^ thy dame,

& winne there the degree.*'
the K/»_7 answered anon-right,
and said, " thou gettest noe other 'Kniyht,

by god that s'tteth in Trinytye !

' lered, i.e. learned, see Cli. Gl. — P.

- "Where — have been slaw, Qu. — P.

^ i. e. either. So they still speak in
Shropshire. — P. Or is the contraction
of other. — P.

« The Maid.— P.

* snel, i.e. presently, immediately.

see Gl. ad Ch. — P. Al soe is alsoo in
MS.— F.

« abyde.— P.

" perhaps any : or perhaps she taunts
him, as not a Match for a AVoman. — P.

^ sonke, i.e. suck, Chauc. — P.

LIBIU3 DISCONICS.

425

If thou thinke he bee not wigbt,
23G Goe ^ and gett thee another Knight [page 321 ]
tlwA, is of more power."
the maid ffor ire still did thinke,^
shee wold neither eate nor d[r]inke
240 ffor all that there were ;
shee sate still, without fFable,
till they had vncouered the table,
she and the dwarfFe iu fFere.
244 Km^ Arthur in thai stond

comanded of the table round,
4 knights in ffere,

of the best thai might be found
243 in armes hole ^ & sound,

to arme thai child ffull right ;
& said " through the might o Christ
tliai in fflome * Jordan was baptiste,
252 he shold doe thai he hight,^
& become a Champyon
to the Lady of Sinadon,

& flfell her ffoemen in fl&ght."
256 to arme him they were fFaine,*'
St'r Perciuall & S/r Gawaine,
& arrayed him like a knight ;

Hell en gets
angrj-,
won't eat or
drink
anything.

nor will the
dwarf.

Arthur
orders

his four best
knights to

arm Lybius,

as he'll do
what he
says,

and be the
Lady of
Sinadone's
champion.

Lybius is
armed by
Percival,
Gawaine,

the 3^ was Sir Agrauaine,^
2G0 & the 4":' was Sir Ewaine,^

Agravaine,
and Ewaine :

» The MS. curl to the G i.s like w.—F.

^ The French Romance makes her
leave the court at once in disgust, and
Lybius ride after her and overtake her,
p. 10, 11.— r.

^ whole. — P.

■* i.e. River; Ital. fiume. — P.

* i.e. promised, engaged. — P.

« glad.— P.

' See the note on him in vol. i. p. 145,
— F.

"* Fwaine or Uwayn was the son of
Arthur's sister, Morgan le Fay, and Iiad

VOL. II. F F

a bad opinion of his mother: " ' A,' sayd
syr Uwayn, ' men saith that Merlj^n was
begoten of a deuylle, but I may saye an
erthely deuylle bare me.' " This was
when he stopt " my lady " his " moder "
from killing " the kynge " Vrj^ens, his
" fader, slepynge in his bed." Cuxtoiis
Malcor, i. p. 107. The Cotton MS. has :
The t>yrt>T was syr Eweyn, [Oweyn,

below]
The ferl^de was s)t agrrafrayn.
So seyj> ^e Fren3sahe tale. — F.

426

LIBIUS DISCONIDS.

is clad in
silk.

264

them riglit ffor to behold,
they cast on him right good silko,
a sercote as white as any i milke

thai was worth 20. of golde ;

and has a

hauberk.

Gawaine

gives him a
shield
and helm.

Percival puts
on his
crown ;
Agravaine
brings him
a spear,

and Ewaine
a steed.

Lybius
mounts,

asks

268

272

276

280

alsoe an hawberke ifaire & bright,
w/iich was ffull richelye dight

With nayles good and ffine.
Sir Gawaine, his owne fFather,
hange about his necke there

a sheeld with a griffon,^
& a helme that was fFull rich,
in all the Land there was none such.

Sir Perciuall sett on his crowne,
Sir Agrauaine brought him a speare
thai was good euery where

& of a ffell ffashion.
Sir Ewaine brought him a steode
tha^i was good in euery neede,

& as ffeirce as any Lyon.^
Sir Lybyus on his steede gan springe,
& rode fforth vnto the King,

& said, " Lord of renowne !

Arthur's
blessing ;

Arthur
gives it him,

and hopes
aod

284

288

"giue me jouv blessinge
without any Letting !

my will is fiEbrth me to wend."
the 'Kiing his hand vpp did lifFt,
& his blessinof to him ffaue riarht

as a 'K.nlght curteour"* & hende,
& said, " god thai is of might,
& his mother Marry bright.

' One stroke too few in the MS. — F. brought, and Gawain give him a squire

^ griifyne, qu. — P. "Eobers: moult esteit sages et apers,"

* Tlie French Romance only makes p. 11. — F.

G-awain order Lybius's armour to be * 'ifor curteous. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

427

thai is fflowre of all women,
292 giue tliee gracce fFor to gone

fFor to gett the ouerliand of thy fone,
& speed thee in thy iourney ! Amen ! "

will grant
him grace to
conquer his
foes.

296

2'! parte. <(

300

304

[The Second Part.]

S/r Lybius now rideth on his way,
& soe did thai ffaire may,

the dwarffe alsoe rode them beside,
till itt beffell vpon the 3? day
vpon the 'K.niglii all the way

ffast they gan to chide,
& said, "Lorell ^ and Caitiue !
tho thow were such ffiue,

Lost is all thy pride !
This way keepeth a Knight
thai With euery man will ffight,
his name springeth wyde ;

Lybius
starts with
Hellen and
the dwarf.

They begin

abusing him,

and say that
a knight
near,

308

312

316

"his name is William, de la Brannche,^
his warres may noe man staunche,^

he is a warryour of great pride ;
Both through hart & hanch
swithe * hee will thee Launche,

all that to him rides." ^
then said Sir Lybius,
" I will not Lett this nor thus

to play with him a fiitt !
fibr any thing thai may betide,
I will against him ryde

to looke if thai he can sitt ! "

Sir William
de la
Braunche,

[page 322]

will soon
spear him
through.

Lybius says

whatever
happens he'll
ride at him.

1 Leml base fellow, Homo perditus. (leaf 45, col. 1) Cotton MS.— F.
Lye. — P. ^ stop, stay, resist. — P.

2 Wylloam Celebronchc (leaf 44 b.) ■• soon.— P.

here, and wylleam selobrannehe, 1. 342, ^ and all that — ride, qu. — P.

FF 2

428

LIBItIS DISCONIUS.

Near the
Atlventuroiis
Chapel
they see a
knight
on the
Bridge of
Peril,

well armed.

320

324

328

the rode on then all 3 :
vpon a fFaire Causye.

beside the aduenturous chappell ^
a knight anon they can see
with armes bright of blee,

vpon the bridge ^ of perrill.
he bare a sheeld all of greene
With 3 Lyons of gold sheene,

right rich and precyons.
well armed ^ was that 'K.niglii
as he shold goe to ffight,

as itt was his vsC*

The knight
tells Lvbius

he must
fight or
leave his
harness
there.

Lj'bius

begs leave to
pass.

332

336

340

when he saw Sz'r Lybius with sight,
anon he went to him arright,

& said to him there,
" who passeth here by day or night,
certer ^ with me must flight,

or leaue his harnesse here."
then answered Sir Libyus
& said, " ffor the lone of lesus

lett vs passe now here !
wee be IFarr ffroe our ffreind,
& haue ffarr ifor to wend,

T and this may den in fere.^ "

Sir William
refuses, and
says

he must
fight him.

Sir 'WiW.iam answered thoe
344 & said, " thou shalt not scape soe !
see god giue me good rest,
thow & I mil, or wee goe,
deale stroakes betweene vs tow
348 a litle here by west."

• Eyght to chapell Auntours. — Lam-
beth MS. Be a castelle aunterous. — C.

^ Fr. le Gut Perilleus. — F. Poynt
pc;-ylous. — Lambeth MS. vale perylous.
— C.

s arned in the MS.— F.

* The French adds, p. 13, 1. 330-3 :
Maint chevaher I'ont trouve dure,
Que il avoit ocis al gu^ ;

Moult etoit plains de cruaute,
Blioblieris avoit non.

* certes. — P. * together. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Sir Libyus sayd, " now I see
that itt will none otlier bee ;
goe ffortli and doe tby best ;
352 take tliy course witli thy sliafft
if thou can i well thy craflFfc,
IFor I ame here all prest.^"

356

360

364

then noe longer they wold abyde,
but the one to the other gan ryde

w^'th greatt randaun.^
Sir Libyus there in "* that tyde
smote Sir wilh'ftm on his side

With a speare iFelon ^ ;
but Sir will/flm sate soe ffast
that his stirropps all to-brast,

he leaned on his arsowne ;
Sir Lybius made him stoupe,
he smote him over the horse croupe

in the fFeeld a-downe ;

his horsse ran ffrom him away.
368 Sir wilh'am not long Lay,
but start anon vpright,
and said, " Sir, by my- in ffay,
neuer beffore this day
372 I ffound none soe wight !
now is my horsse gone away !
flight on [foot],*^ I thee pray,
as thou art a 'Knight worthye."
376 then sayd Sir Lybius,

" by the leaue of Sweete lesus
therto ifull ready I am.'^ "

429

Lybius says

Charge
away !

They
charge ;

Lybius hits
Sir William
on the side,

drives him
over his
saddle-back,

and grounds
him.

Sir William
starts up

and asks
Lybius to
fight on foot.

' con. — P.

''i.e. ready. — P.

^ Ap? G. Doiig. randoun. The swift
Course, Flight or Motion of any thing.
Fr. randon, idem. Gl. G.D. — P.

* MS. therein.— F.

* fel, felon, feloim, -wicked, also cruel,
fierce. Gl. Chauc— P.

6 on [foot] I &c.— P. a fote.— C.
on fote. — Lam.

' am I.— P.

430

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

They do so

till the fire
flies from
their helms.

Sir Wilham

cuts ofE a
corner of
Lyhins's
shield.

380

384

388

then together tliey went as tyte,*
& with, their swords they gan smite ;

they ffought wonderons Longe ;
stroakes together they lett fflinge
that they ffyer out gan springe

ffrom of their helmes strong,
but Sir willmm de ^ la braunche
to Sir Lybius gan he launche,

& smote on his sheild soe ffast
that one cantell ^ iFell to the ground ;
& S^r Lybius att that sonde"*

in his hart was asfast.

[page 323]

Lybius

cuts off the
coif and
crest of Sir
William's
helm,

and his
beard.

Sir William's
sword breaks
in two :

he prays for
his life.

then Si'r Lybius with all his might
392 defended him anon-right,

was ^ warryour wight & slye ;
coyfe ^ & crest do'vsTie right,
he made to ffly with great might,
396 of Sir Willmms lielme on hye ;
& with the point of his sword
he cut of Sir willmms herd,
and touched him ffull nye.
400 Sir WilKam smote S^r Lybius thoe
' as that his sword brast in tow

® that many men might see with eye.

then Sir "Willi am. began to crye
404 & sayd, " ffor the Loue of Marrye,
on line let mee weelde !

itt were great villanye

ffor to make a 'K.night dye
408 wepoulesse in the feeld."

' quickly. — F.
^ MS. do.— F.
^ cautle, a Piece, a part. Gl. Ch. — P.

* Perhaps stounde, time, momcMt,
space. — P. Sonde is message. — F.

* as, qu. — P. as. — C. and L.

^ coif-cle-fer, the hood of mail worn by
knights in the twelfth century. Fair-

holt. The second seal of Henry I. re-
presents him without a helmet, the cowl
of mail being drawn over a steel cap
called a coif-cle-fer in contradistinction
to the chapelle-de-fer worn over the mail.
Planche, i. 94.— F.

' That his, &c.— P.

* As men, &c. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

431

412

then spake Sir Lybius

& sayd, " by the leaue of lesus !

of liife gettest thou no space •
but if thou wilt sweare anon,
or thou out of the ffellcl gone,

here before my fface,

Lybius
grants it
him

on condition

416

420

424

" & on knees kneele cIoT\Tie,
& swere by my sword browne

that thou shalt to Arthur wend,
& say, ' Lord of great renowne !
I am in battell ouerthrowne ;

a knio-ht me hither doth send

that men cleped thus,
Sir Lybius Disconius,

vnknowen hm'ght and hend.' "
S/r willmm mett ^ him on his knee ;
& the othe there made hee,

& fibrward gan he wend.

that he
swears to go
to Arthur

and say that
Lybius sends
him.

Sir William
swears.

428

432

thus depaHed all the rout.
Si'r willmm to Arthurs court

he tooke the ready way ; ^
a sorry case there gan fifall :
3 knights * proude and tall

Sir wilham mett that day;
the 3 K-nights all in ffere
where his ernes ® sonnes deere,

stout they were and gay.

and starts
for Arthur's
court.

His three
cousins
meet him,

' For the next stanza and a half, the
French has, p. 18 :

" Ens a la cort Artu le roi,
A lui en ires de par moi."
2 ? sett.— F.

5 The French Romance sends him home
wounded, puts him to bed, and there he
sees the three knights. — F.

* The French makes them only his

" compaignons," and him their " signer."

Their names are :

Elius li blans, sires des Aies,
Et li bons chevaliers de Graies
Et Willaume de Salebrant.
* e7ne, Uncle. See Jiin. came. See

Gl. ad Chauc. &e. — P. A.-Sax. cam,

uncle. — F.

432

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

and ask him
who has
wounded
him.

" Sir Lybius
Disconius,

436 when tliey saw Sir wilKam bleed,
& alway hanged downe his head,
they rode to him with great array,

& srid, " Cozen will !
440 who hath done to you this shame ?

& why bleedest thou soe long ? "
hee said, " Sirs, by St. lame !
one thai is not to blame ;

a stout ~Kmght & a stronge —
Sir Lybius disconius hee hight —
to ffell his enemyes in ffight ;

he is not ffarr to Learne ;
a dwarfe rydeth with him in fere
as he was his Squier ;

they ride away fFull yarne.'

444

448

and he has
made me
swear

not to stop
till I get to
Arthur's
com-t,

and never to
bear arms
against
liim."

His cousins
promise to
avenge him :

Lybius isn't
worth a flea;

" but one thing greeueth me sore,
452 that he hath made me sweare
on his sord soe bi'ight,
that I shold neuer more,
till I come to K.ing Arthur,
456 Stint by day nor night ;

and alsoe to him I ame yeelde
as ouei'come into the ffeelde
by power of his might ;
460 nor against him ffor to bears
neither sheeld nor speare ;
thus I haue him hight."

then said the 'Knights 3 :
464 " well auenged shalt thou bee
certes without ffayle !

ffor hee one against vs 3,

hee is not worthe a fflee
468 ffor to hold battell ^ !

[page 324]

yerne, inter al. nimble, Cli. Gl, — P.

battayle, — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

433

472

goe fforth & keepe tliiiie othe
though tliou be neuer soe wroth.;

wee will him assayle.
or he this fforrest passe,
wee will his armour vnlace,

tho itt were double maile."

they'll soon
unlace his
armour.

476

480

484

theroff wist nothing that wight
Sir Lybius, that gentle 'Knight,

but rode a well good pace ;
he & tliat maiden bright
made together that night

game & great solace,
shee cryed him niercye
ffor shee had spoken liim villanye ;

shee prayed him to fforgiue her that tyde ;
the dwarffe was their squier,
& serued them both in ffere

off all that they had need.

Lybius
rides ou
with Hellen.

She begs his
pardon for
having
abused him.

492

496

on the morrow when itt was day,
fibrthe the rode on theii" way

towards Sinadowiie.
then they say ^ in their way
3 Knights stout and gay

came ryding ffrom Caerleon ;
to him they sayd anon-right,^
" Traitor, turne againe and ffight !

thou shalt lose thy renowne !
& that maide fFaire & bright,
wee will her lead att night

her by vnto a towne,"

Next day

the three
cousins
meet Lybius,

and call on
him to fight.

1 saw.— P. ? Perhaps th(> MS. has a
w made over the y, or an e after it. — F.
- The French puts the fight with these

three knights (p. 34) after that with the
two giants (p. 23).— F.

434

LIEIUS DISCONIUS

Lybiub is
ready,

charges
the eldest,
Sir Baner,

and brealcs
his thigh in
two.

Dwarf
Teddelync
rides Baner's
horse

to Helleu,

and she says
Lybius is a
good
champion.

S/r Lybius to them gan crye,
500 " fFor to iEglit I am all readye
against you all in-sam.e.' "
a 2 prince proude of pride,
lie rode against them that tyde
504 With mirth sport and game,
the Eldest brother then beere
to S/r Lybius w/th a Spere,
S/r Baner was his name.^
508 Sir Lybius rode att him anon
& brake in tow his thigh bone,
& lett him Lye there lame.^

the ^nigTii mercy gan crye
512 when S/r Lybius certainely
had smitten him downe.
the dwarfFe tlmi hight Teodline
tooke his horsse by the raine,
516 he lept into the arsoone ^ ;
he rode anon w^^th that
vnto the mayd where shee sate
soe ffayre of ffashyon.
520 then laughed tlmt Maiden bright,

& said, " fforssooth this young Knight
is a ffull good Champyon ! "

' i. e. all together ; it seems a contrac-
tion of the Fr. ensemble. See G.D. Gl.
alsame, sub. verb, same.— P.

* As, q.-^Pencil note.

^ Willaumes vint a lui premiers, 1.
1052, p. 38. The French Rom. remarks
on the knights attacking singly, in the
good old times, as contrasted with the
cowardice of the then modern ones :

Et a eel tens, costume estoit
Que qiiant i horn se combatoit,
N'avait garde que de colui
Qui faisoit la bataille a lui.
Or Ta li tens en febloiant
Et cis usages decaans,
Que XX et V en prendcnt ini !
Cis afaires est si commun

Que tuit le tienent desorm^s ;
La force fait le plus adi^s,
Tos est mues en autre guise,
Mais dont estoit fois et francise,
Pities, proesse et cortoisie,
Et largesse sans vilonnie.
Or fait cascims tot son pooir,
Tos entendent au decevoir. (p. 38.)

■• The French makes Lybius kill
Willaume (or Sir Baner) :

Mort le trcbuce del ceval.
II ne li fera huimais mal ! (p. 40.)
Then Helin de Graies attacks Lybius,
and gets his right arm broken. — F.

^ Fr. Ar^on, a saddle bow, Per Meton.
Saddle.— 'P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

435

524

528

532

1 the 2*^ brother, he beheld
how is brother lay in the fFeild

& had lost strenght & might ;
he smote Sir Lybius in that tyde
on the sheeld with much pride,

with, his speare ffull right.
Sir Lybius away gan. beare [page 325]

With his good speare

the helme of that knight,
the youngest brother ^ then gan ride,
& hitt S/r Lybius in that tyde

as a man of much might,

The second
cousin

charges
Lybius.

Lybius

unhelms

him.

The third
cousin

533

540

544

& said ta hira then anon,
" Sir, thou art by St. lohn

a ffell Champyowne ;
by god that sitteth in trinity e,
flight I -vvill With thee,

I hope to beare thee downe." '
as warryour out of witt,
on Sir Lybius then hee hitt

With a ffell ffauchyon ;
soe stifflye his stroakes hee sett,
^7iat through helme ^ & basenett ■*

he earned Sir Lybius crowne.

says he
should

like to fight
Lybius,

and cuts
through

his helm and

bascinet
into his
head.

Sir Lybius was served in that stead
548 when hee ffelled ^ on his head

^Ziat the sword had drawen blood ;

Lybius

'~' l>e myddelle bi'o)?fr com 3crne
Vp-on a Steele sterne

Egre as lyotm.
Hym J>03te hys body woldc berne
But he my3t al so 3erne
Felle lybeaus a-doun. — C.
'' Sir Gramadone, the French calls
him, 1. 1122, p. 40.— F.

^ helmet or head-i^iece, Fr. D? Galea.
—P.

* Bascinet, a light helmet, shaped
like a skull-cap, worn with or without a
moveable front. Fairholt. — F.

5 felt.— P. The Lambeth MS. reads :
Tho wax Lybeous a-greued
When ho felt on his hed.
The Cotton has :

Tho was ly-beaus agreede
AVhan he felde on hedde. — F.

436

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

waves his
sword.

says two
against one
isn't fair
(the second
cousin
having
joined in
again ?),

552

556

about his head the sword he waned, —
all thai hee hitt, fForsoothe hee cleeued,

as warryour wight and good ; —
Si'r Lybius said s withe thoe,
" one to flight against 2

is nothing good."
fiast they hewed then on him
With stroakes great and grim ;

against ^ them he stifflye stood,

and cuts off
the second
cousin's
right arm.

The third
cousin

yields to
Lybius,

and cries
for mercy.

560

564

568

2 & through gods grace

he smote the eldest in thai place

vpon the right arm.e thoe ;
hee hitt him soe in thai place, —
to see itt was a wonderous case, —

his right arme fiell him firoe.^
the youngest saw thai sight,
& thought hee had noe might

to flight against his ffbe ;
to S/r Lybius hee did vp-yeeld
his good Speare & sheeld ;

mercy he cryed him thoe.^

Lybius
grants it

on condition
that he and
his two
brothers
go to Artliur,

572

576

anon S^'r Lybius said, " nay,
thou shalt not passe this away —

by him thai bought mankind —
but thou & thy brethren twayne
plight jouv trothes without Layine

tliai yee will to 'Kiing Arthur wende,
& say, ' Lord of great renowne !
in battaill wee be ouercome ;

' 'gainst. — P.

2-2 The Cotton text omits these lines,
and in the next ones makes both brothers
yield to Lybius. — F.

^ The French makes the battle with

the third knight last all night till next
day ; then the horse of Sir Gramadone des
Aies slips and falls, Lybius seizes the
prostrate rider, and he is obliged to
yield, p. 41-2.— F,

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

437

a Kniglit vs hither hath send
580 ffor to yeeld thee tower & towune,
& to bee att thy bandowne ^
euermore wrthouten end.'

and give np
their all to
liiiu.

584

588

592

" & but if you will doe soe,
certes I will you sloe

as I am true Knight."
anon they svvare to him thoe ;
that they wold to Arthur goe,

their trothes anon the plight.
Sir Lybius & that ffaire May
rode fforth on the way

thither as they had hight ;
till itt beffell on the 3? day
the ffell together in game & pley,

hee and that Maiden bright.

They swear
to do this.

and Lybius
rifles on with
Hellen.

On the third
day

596

600

604

they rode flPorthe on west
into a wyde IForrest,

& might come to noe towne ;
the ne wist what way best,
ffor there they must needs rest,

& there they light a-downe.
amonge the greene eues ^
they made a lodge with, bower & leaues,

With swords bright and browne.
Sir Lybius & that maiden bright [pago32G]
dwelled there all night, ^

that was soe ffaire of ffashyon.

they are
benighted in
a forest

and camp
out.

' Fr. bandon, "A son bandon," i. e. at
his will and Pleasure. Gl. Gr. Doug. — P.

2 eaves. Metaph. from a house build-
ing.-P.

' The French picture is prettier:

Li Deseonn^us se dormoit
Sur I'erbe fresce ii rcposoit ;
Dales lui gist la dumoisele,
Deseur son brae gist la pucelc ;
Li uns dales I'autre dormoit,
Li lomignols sor els cantoit. (p.

23.)

438

LIDIUS DISCONIU^.

Tlio dwarf
keeps watch,

sees a great
fire,

wnkes
Lybiiis,

and says
they urnst bo
off,

ns he smells
ronst meat.

G08

612

GIG

then tlio dwarife began to wake,
flbr noe tlieevies sliold take

away their horsses with guile ;
then ffor fFeare he beg-an to quake ;
a great ffyer heo saw make

ffrom them but a mile.
" arise," he said, "worthy 'Knight !
to horsse that wee were dight

ffor doubt of more perill !
certes I heare a great best ^ ;
alsoe I smell a savor of rost,

by god & by S'- Gyle ! "

Lybius

rides off,

and finds

two

giants,

a black one
holding a
maid by the
bosom,

620

S"! part.<

624

628

[The Tliird Part.]

S/r Lybius was stout & gay,

& leapt vpon his palffrey,
& tooke his sheeld & speare

& rode fforth ffull ffast.

2 gyants hee ffound at Last,
[that] 2 strong & stout were.
The one was blacke as any sole,^
the other as red as ffyerye cole,

& ffoule bothe they were,
the blacke Gyant held in his "* arme
a ffaire mayd by the barme,^

bright as rose on biy ai" ^ ;

' burst, report, like the discharge of a
gun : It is still called bost in Shropsh.
—P.

* Who.— P.

^ A.-S. sol, soil, filth, mire, dirt.
Bosworth. Fr. souiller, to sojde, slurrie,
durtie, smutch, beray, begrime. Cot-
grave. The Cotton stanza is :
Jjat on \yas Eed & lohlyche.
And \>at oper swart as pychc,

Grysly bo^o of chere.
\>at oon held<; yn hys barme
A maydc y-clepte yn hys arme,
As bryjt as blosle on brere. — F.

•' hus in tlie MS. with a dot.— F.
The Froncli is :

Car uns gaians moult la pressoit,

A force baisier le voloit,

Mais cele ne 1' pooit soufrir,

Mais se voloit laissier morir.

* Sinus, gremium. — P. A.-S. bearm,
the womb, lap, bosom. Bosworth. — F.
A mayde i-clypped in his barme. — L.

" brero, so in Chauc. — P. Bryar is
one of tlie words entered under care in
Levins's Manipulus or Rhyming Diction-
ary, p. 209, col. 1, ed. 1867.— F.

LIBICS DISCONIUS.

439

the red Gyant ffall yarne

C32 swythe about can turne

a -wild bore on a spitt ;

ffaire the ffyer gan berne.

the maid cryed fFuU yerne,

C36 for men shold itt witt ;

shee said, " alas & euer away
that euer I abode this day
With 2 devills for to sitt !
640 helpe, Mary that is soe mild,
for the loue of the ' child,
that I be not fforgett ! "

Str Lybius said, "by S' lame !
644 fibr ^ to bring that maid ffrom shame
itt were ffall great price ;
but fibr to fight with both in shame ^
it is no childs game,
648 they be soe grim and grise.'* "
he tooke his course with his shaft
as a man that cold his crafi't,
& he rode by right assise :
652 the blacke he smote all soe smart
through the Huer, long ^ & hart
that he might neuer rise.

roasting a
boar on a
spit.

The maid
cries out

for help.

Lj-bius says

it's no child's
play to fight
both giants.

but he
charges the
black one,

and runs
him right
through the
heart.

656

660

then ffled that maiden sheene,

& thanked^ Marye, heauens queene,

that succour had her sent.
then came mayd Ellen
& the dwarfie by-dene,^

& by the hand her hent,

The maid

Hellen takes
her

' perhaps thy. — P.
2 for.— r. qu. MS. ffea.— F.
^ in same, i. e. together, ensemble, Fr.
-P.

* id. ae grisly, horrid, horrible. — P.
a lung.— P.

* d added by Percy. — F.

' MS. " & by the dwarffe dene," but
the tmesis must be a copier's mistake.
— F. And the Dwarf by-dene. — P.
Sche & here dwerk y-mene. — Cot.

440

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

into the
forest,

and she
prays for
Lybius's
safety.

The red
giant
hits at
Lybins with
the boar,

and knocks
his horse
down.

Lybius
fights with
his sword.

The giant
lays on
Lybius with
his spit.

664

668

672

676

680

684

covers him
with boar's
grease,

& went into the greanes,!

& lodged them vnder the leaues

in a good entent ;
& shee besought lesus
fFor to helpe Sir Lybius

that hee was not shent.

the red Gyant smote thore^
att S/r Lybius with the bore

as a woolfe thai were woode ;
his Dints he sett soe sore,
that Sir Lybius horsse therfore

downe to the ground yode.^
then Sir Lybius with ffeirce hart,
out of his saddle swythe he start

as spartle ■* doth out of fyer ;
feir[c]ely as any Lyon
he ffought With his fFawchyon

to quitt the Gyant his hyer.

^ the Gyants spitt sickerlye
was more then a cowle tree^

that he rosted on the bore ;
He laid on S^'r Lybius fFast,
all the while the spitt did last,

euer more and more.
the bore was soe hott then,
that on S/r Lybius the grease ran

[page 327]

' i.e. Groves, Bushes. So in Chaue.
—P.

^ i. e. there, metri gratia, so iu Chauc.
—P.

' went. — ^P. The French makes Lybius
kill the other giant first :

II . . fiert celui premieremant
Qui esfor9oit la damoisele.
Si la feru les la mamiele.
Le fer li fist el cuer serrer ;
Les ioils del cief li fist torbler ;
Mort le trebuce el feu ardant. (p. 27.)
The Cotton text (leaf 46 back, col. 2)

follows the French :

}je blake geaunt he smote smert

l>orgh the lyuere, longe, & herte, "
)7«t neuer he my3te aryse. — F.

* sparkle. — P. sparkyll. — L. sperk.
— C.

^ This stanza is not in C. or L. — F.

^ ? Phillipps's coul-stajf: " Coul, a
kind of Tub, or Vessel with two Ears to
be carry'd between two Persons with a
Coid-staff." See Lambarde's Per.ambu-
lation, p. 367, and Strutt, ii. 201, says
HalliweU, under Cowlstaff. — F.

LIBIUS DISCO.NIUIS.

441

riglit ffast thore.'
C88 the gyant was stiffe & stronge,
15 fFoote he was Longe ;

hee smote Sir Lybius fTull sore.

692

696

700

Euer still the gyant smote
att Sir Lybius, well I wott,

till the spitt brast in towe.
then as mian thai was wrath,
ffor a Trunchyon fforth he goth

to ffight aga[i]nst his ffoe,
& With the End of thai spitt
S/'r Lybins sword ^ in 3 he hitt.

then was Sir Lybius wonderous woe.
or he againe his stalFe vp caught,
Sir Lybius a stroke him rought

thai his rio'ht arme ffell him ffroe.

and batters
him till

the spit
breaks.
Then he gets
a truncheon,

and splits
Lybius" s
shield with
it,

but drops
his stail.
Lybius cuts
off his right
arm.

the Gryant ffell to the ground,
704 & Sir Lybius in thai stond
smote of his head thoe:
in a ffrench booke itt is ffound.^
to the other he went in thai stond,*
708 & serued him right soe.

he tooke vp the heads then
& bare them to thai ffaire maiden
thai he had woone in ffight.
712 the maid was glad & blythe,
& thanked god often sithe

thai euer he was made a K.nighi.

Sir Lybius said, " gentle dame,
716 tell me now what is yo?fr name

then his
head.

and gives
both heads
to the
maiden.

She

' There is nothing of this grease
business in the French and Cotton texts.
— F.

2 scheld. — Cot. The French has not
the passage, — F.

VOL. II. G G

* Eenals de Biauju's text omits the
cutting off of the right arm, but makes
Lybius split the giant's head to the
teeth.— F.

* stound. — P.

442

LIBIUS DISCONIDS.

tells him
that her
father is

an earl,

Sir Arthore,

and her
name is
Violet.

720

724

& wliere that you were borne."
"Str," she said, "by Sf lame,
my ffather is of ricb fFame,

& dwelletli here beforne ;
lie is a Jjord of mucli might,
an Erie & a Noble Knight ;

his name is S[ir] Arthore,
& my name is Vylett,^
thai the Gyant had besett

for the Castle ore.

She was ont
walking

when the
giant sprang
on her.

and would

have

destroj'eii

her,

had it not

been for

Lyblus.

Christ

reward him !

^28

732

736

" as I went on my demeaning ^
to-night in the eueni[n]ge,

none euill then I thought ;
the gyant, wi'th-out leasing,
out of bush he gan spring,

& to the ffyer me brought,
of him I had beene shent,
but thai god me succour sent

thai all this world hath wrought.
Sc'r 'Kndghi ! god yeeld thee thy meed,
ffor vs thai on the roode did bleed,

& wc'th his blood vs boug-lit ! "

They all ride
to

Without any more talking
740 to their horsses they gan spring,^

' Vilett, Violette.— P. Vyolette.— Cot.
The French gives the name and story
differently :

. . nommee sui Clarie . .

Et Saigremors si est mes frere,

Li jaians me prist ces mon pere.

En un vergier hni mais entrai

Et per moi deduire i alai.

Li jaians ert desous I'entree,

Trova la porte desfremee ;

Iluec me prist, si m'enporta,

Ici son conpaignon trova. (p. 32.) — F.

^ probably going a walking, demener,

the same as promener, qu. — P.
Yesterday yn the mornynge
Y wente on my playnge.

"Cot. MS. in Eitson.
^ The French text makes them first
have a grand feast on the grass off the
giants' food. Squire Eobers distinguishes
himself as cook, seneschal, butler, mar-
shal, chamberlain, and squire, helped by
the dwarf, p. 32-34. Eobers is a most
useful personage all through the French
story. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

443

744

748

& rode fFortli all in-same,
& told the Erie in euery thing •
how he wan in flighting

his Daughter fFrom woe & shame,
then were these heads sent
vnto 'Kmg Ai'thnr ffor a present

With much mirth & game,
that in Arthurs court arose
of Sir Lybius great Losse ^

& Sb right good name.

Sir

Ar there's,

and Lybius
sends the
giants' heads
to King
Arthur.

752

756

"60

4^ parte,

^ the Erie, ffor that good deede,
gaue S/r Lybius for his meede

sheeld and armour bright,
& alsoe a noble steede
that was good in euerye need,

in trauayle & in ffight.

[The Fourth Part.]
now Sir Lybius and his May
tooke their leaue, & rode their way
thither as they had hight.*
" Then they saw in a parke [page 328]

a Castle stiffe & starke,^

that was ffull maruelouslye dight ;

764

wrought itt was with lime & stone, -
such a one saw he neuer none, —
- with towers stiflfe & stout.

Sir Arthore
gives Lybius

and a noble
steed.

Lybius rides
on towards
the Waste
Land,

and sees a
castle

* erl tydynge.— Cot.

* lose, praise. — F.

^ The Cotton text has an extra stanza
here, in which Sir Arthore offers Lj'bius
his daughter Yyolette to wife, but the
offer is declined, leaf 47 b. MS., p. 30,
Eitson. The French has neither of the
stanzas. — F.

* bey Eyde forb alle ]pre

Toward \>e fayre 0)16,

Kardeuyle fore so|> hyt hyjt. — C.
Here follow in the French a page and
a quarter of what M. Hippeau terms
" Digression de I'Auteur : II sera fiddle
a celle qu'il ne pent encore nommer
s^inde, mais qu'il appelle /'a moidt a/'inec.''
The next adventure with Sir Gefferon,
or Part IV, is omitted. — F.
* i. e. strong. — P.

444

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

which he
thinks vei'3'
strong.

Hellen tells
him that a
brave knight
lives there :

Sir Lybius said, " soe haue I blis !
wortliy dwelling here itt is
'68 to them thai stood in doubt ! "
then laughed thai Maiden bright,
& sayd, " here dwelleth a K-uighi,
the best thai here is about.
r72 who-soe will w/th him ffight, —
be he Baron or be he knight,—
he maketli him to loute.

whoever
brings him
a lady

fairer than
his own,
gets a white
falcon ;

but if she is
not so fair,
Sir Gefferon

cuts his head
off.

Lybius
declares he'll
fight
Gefferon,

and produce
Hellen as
his love.

r76

^so

784

788

792

796

" see well he loueth his Leman
that is soe ffaire a woman,

& a worthy in weede,
who-soe bringeth a fFairer then,
a ioly ffawcon as white as swan

he shall haue to his meede.
& if shee be not soe bright,
w^'th Sir Gefferon he must ffight ;

& if he may not speed,
1 his [head] shall be ffrom him take,
& sett ffull hye vpon a stake,

truly e withouten dread.

" the sooth you may see and heere ;
there is on euery corner^

a head or tow ffull right."
Sir Lybius sayd al soe soone,
" by god & by S' lohn !

w('th Sir Gefferon will I ffight,
& chalenge the lolly ffawcon,
& say thai I haue one in the towne,

a lemman al soe ^ bright ;
& if hee will her see,
then I will bring ^ thee,

be itt day or by night." ^

— F.

his [head] shall. — P.

Percy has added an e at the end.

MS. alsoe, and in line 790.— F. al

soe. — P

* Only half the ti in the MS.— F.
^ by day or night, or dele by. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

445

800

804

808

the dwarffe sayd, "bj Sweete lesus !
gentle Sir Lybyiis ' Disconiys,

tliou puttest thee in great perill.
S^r Giffron La fFraudeus,^
in ffighting he hath an vse

Knights fFor to beguile."
Sir Lybins answered and sware,
& said, " therof I hane no care !

by god & by S\ Gryle,
I mil see him in the fFace
or I passe out of this place,

ffor all his subtulle wile ! "

The uwarf
warns him

of Gefferon's
wiles.

Lybius
doesn't care
for 'em ; he
tcill fight.

Without any more que sty on
812 the^ dwelled still in the towne
all night there in peace.
on the morrow he made him readie
ffor to winne him the Masterye
816 certes^ wtthouten Lease.
he armed him ffull sure
in the sayd Armor

that ~K.ing Arthurs ^ was,
820 & his horsse began he to stryde ;
the dwarffe rod by his syde
to that strong palace.

Sir Gyffron la ffraudeus
824 rose vp, as itt was his vse,
in the morrow tyde

ffor to honor sweete lesus.

then he was ware of Sir Lybius ;
828 as a prince of much pryde

Next day
Lybius

and rides to

Gefferon's
castle.

Gefferon

sees him,

' There is a stroke too many after the
u ill the MS.— F.

^ SjT GyfFroun le flowdous. — Cot.
3 they.— P.

♦ MS. eerter.- F.

^ erl autores. — Cot., which must be
right. — F. sir Arthores, or Knighi A?--
thores. — P.

446

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

and asks why
he comes.

832

ffast he rode into thai place.

Sir lefFron maruailed att thai case,

& loud to him did crye
With voyce loud and shrill :
" comest thou fFor good or ill ?

tell me now on hye."

" To fight
you," says
Lybius ;

" you have
no such fair
maiden as I
have :

give mo
your falcon
for King
Arthur.

836

840

844

S('r Lybius said al soe ' tyte,
" certes I haue greate delight

With thee fFor to flight !
thou hast [said] great despite ; ^
thou hast a Leman,^ none so whyte

by day or by night
as I haue one in the towne,
ffairer of ffashyon

for to see with sight,
therfore thy lolly fFawcowne,
to Km^ Arthur with the crowne

bring I will by right."

[page 329]

My lady is in
Cardigan ;

we'll set
yours and
mine in the
market,
and see
which is
the fairer."

848

852

856

S^r Geffron said al soe right,

" where shall wee see thai sight,

whether the ffairer bee ? "
Sir Lybius said, " wee will fiull right
in Cardigan see ;^/iat sight,^

there all men may itt see ;
in the middes of thai Markett,
there shall they both be sett

to looke on them soe ffree ^ ;
& if my Leman be browne,
fFor thy lolly ffawcowne

iust I will With thee."

' MS. alsoe, and in 1. 847.— F.

^ Thou seyste a foule dispite. — Lam.

' Lennau in the MS. — F.

* In Cardeuyle eyte ry3t. — Cot.

* bothe bond & fre. — Cot.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Si'r Geffron said alsoe then,
860 " I wold ffaine as any man
to-day att yondertyde.^
all this I grant thee well,
& out of this Castell
864 to Cardigan ^ I "will ryde."
their gioues were there vp yold,
that fforward ^ to hold,
as princes proud in pryde.
868 S;'r Lybius wold no longer blinn,*
but rode againe to his inn
& wold no longer abyde.

he said to maid Ellen
872 that was soe bright & sheene,

" looke thou make thee bowne !
I thee say, by S' Quintin,
Si'r Gefferons Leman I will winn :
876 to-day shee will come to towne,
in the midds of this cytye,
that men may you see,

& of you bothe the ffashyon ;
880 & if thou be not soe bright,
with. Sir Gefiron I shall flight
to winne the lolly e fiawcowne."

the dwarfie answered, " for- thy ^
884 that thou doest a deed hardye ^
fibr any man borne,
thou wilt doe by no mans read

447

GefEeron

Lybius rides
back, and

tells Hellen
to get ready.

as she is to
be shown
against
Gefferon's
love.

The dwarf
tells him it's
a foolhardy
business ;

* forte ondertyde. — P. \>js day at
vnderne tyde. — C. This daye at vnder-
tide.— L.

2 Karlof. — Cot. Kardyle. — Lam.
^ A.-S. forewcard, agraement. — Y.

* blim in the MS.— F.

* for thy, therefore, according to Gl.
Ch. & Gr.D., here it should seem to be
forthwith.—^. Cot. omits this stanza.

The Lambeth MS. has :

The DwerfF answerd and seid,
" Thow doste a savage dede !

ifor any man i-borne
Tow wilt not do by Redo,
But faryst with thi madd hedo
As lorde that will be lorne."
" hardye, qu. — P. MS. not clear.-

-F.

448

LIBIUS Disco>;ius.

he"d better
go on his
way.

Lybius won't
hear of this.

8SS

892

for tboii florest in thy child head

as a man that wold be lorne !
& therfore I thee pray
to wend iForth on thy way,

& come not him beforne."
S/r Lybius said, " that were great shame !
I had leuer w/th great grame '

w/th wiUi horsses to be torne."

Hellen
decks herself

■with a violet
mantle.

and precious
stones.

896

900

904

maid Ellen, fiaii-e and free,
made hast sickerlye

her flfor to attyre
in Keicheys ^ that were white,
for to doe all his deUght,

w/th. good ^ gold wyer.
a vyolett mantle, the sooth to say,
iFurred well wzth gryse gay,*

shee east about lier Lyer ^ ;
the stones shee had about lier mold
were pi'ecyous & sett with gold,^

the best in that shire.

and rides on
a palfrey

to Cardigan
market.

908

912

Sa* Lybius sett that ffaire May
on " a right good ^ PalfFrey,

& rode fforth all three,
euery man to other gan say,
" heere cometh a ffaire May,

And louelye ffor to see ! "
into the Markett hee rode,
& boldly there abode

[page 330]

' i.e. grief, sorro'w; vexation, anger;
madness: trouble, affliction, Gl. ad
Chauc.— P.

^ Kercheffs, qu. — P. keuechers. — C.
kerchevys. — L.

^ aravde 'wyth. — Cot.

* Pelured vrith grys & gray. — Cot.

^ swjTe (neck). — Cot.

® A sercle vp-on here molde,
Of stones & of golde. — Cot.
Mold, the suture of the skull;
fashion, appearance. — Halliwell.

' om, or ? one, in the MS. — F,

* Vp-on a pomely. — Cot.

form,

LIBIUS DISC05IUS.

449

in the middes * of that citye.
916 anon the saw Geffiron come ryde,
& 2 sqniers by his side,
& na more meanye ^ :

Totbem
oomes

920

924

928

he hare a sheelde of greene,
richelye itt was to be scene ' ;

of gold was the bordnre,
flight itt was With fflowers
& alsoe With rich colours,

Kke as itt * were an Emperour,
the •' squiers did with him ryde ;
the one bare by his side

3 shafts good & stonre.^
the other bare, his head vpon,
a gentle lolly ffawcon "

tfiat was laid to wager ;

with two
squires

(one bearing
a falcon)

932

936

940

& after did a Lady ryde,
ffaire & bright, of Much pryde,

cladd in purple pall,
the people came flfarr & wyde
to see that Ladye in that tyde,*

how gentle ^ shee was and small ;
her mantle was of purple ffine,
well fForred with good Armine,

itt was rich and royall ;
a sercotte sett about her necke soe sweete
With dy amend & with Margarett,

& many a rich Emerall ;

and his fair
ladT.

purple.

her surcoat
set with
diamonds,
pearls,
and
emeralds ;

* niddes in the MS. — F.

* attendants. — P.

' He barf i>e schelde of goulcs,
Of sylner thre whyte otiles. — C.
He bare the shelde gowlvs,
OS sylner three white owlys. — L.

* hee.— P.
' two.— P.

' Idem ac cture, inge/is, crassus. Lve.
—P.

• I wow/d read ler-fancon. see st. 37
[1. 977] below. — P. gerfawcon^. — C.

« To se here bak & syde. — Cot.
(which has many variations in the follow-
ing lines). — P.

* forte, gimp. — P.

450

LIBIUS mSCONIUS.

her hue
rose-red,

her hair
golden,

her brows
like silk,

her eyes
grey.

The lookers-
on

944

948

952

her colour was as tlie rose red ;
lier haire thai was on lier head,

as gold wyer itt shone bright ;
her browes were al soe i silke spread,
fFaire bent in lenght & bread ;

her nose was fFaire and right ;
her eyen gray as any glasse ;
niilke white was her fFace.

the said thai sawe tliai sight,
her body gentle and small,
' her beantye ffor to tell all,

noe man with tounge might.'

put two

chairs for
the ladies,

and decide
that

Gefferon's
is the fairer.

Hellon is
only fit to be
her laundry-
maid.

956

960

964

unto the Markett men G:an brine:
2 Chaires ffor to sitt in,

their bewtye ffor to descrye.
then said both old & younge, —
fforssooth Without Leasing

betweene them was partye, — ^
Geffrons Leman was ffaire & cleere
as euer was any rose on bryer,^

fforsooth Without Lye.
Maid Ellen, the Messenger,
seemed to her but a Launderer ■*

in her nurserye.

Lybius then
challenges
Gefferon to
fight.

968

972

then said S«r Geffron la ffraudeus,®
" S/r Knight, by Sweet lesus,

thy head thou hast fforlore ^ ! "
" nay ! " said Sir Lybius,
" thai was neuer my vse !

iust I will therfore ;

> MS. alsoe.— F.

2 This Line in a Parenthesis. — P.
^ brere. — P. There is no short stroke
to the y in the MS.— P.

■• i. e. Lavmderess, Laundress.— P.

le fludous. — Cot.

lost.— P. The Cotton MS. reads :
Syr lybeaus Desconus,
Yys hank )>o\\ hast for-lore.

LIBIUS DISCOiNIUS.

451

976

" & if thou beare me clowne,
take my head on thy ffawchyon,

& hom.e With thee itt lead ;
& if I beare downe thee,
the lerfiaucon shall goe with, mee

maugre thy head indeed.

980

984

988

" what needeth vs more to chyde ?
but into the saddle let vs glyde,

to proue our mastery."
either smote on others sheeld the while They charge
with crownackles ^ that were of Steele,

with great envye.
then their speares brake assunder ;
the dints ffared as the thunder

that Cometh out of the skye.
trumpetts & tabours,
herawdyes & good desoures,^

Their stroakes ffor to ^ descrye. [page 33i]

and their
spears break.

99 2

996

1000

Geffron then began to speake :
" bring me a spere that will not breke,

a shaft with one crown all !
ffor this young ffeley ffreke
sitteth in his saddle steke *

as stone in Castle wall.
I shall make him to stoope
swithe ouer his saddle croope,

& giue him a great ffall,
tho he were as wight a warryour
as Alexander or Arthur,

Sir Lancelott or Sir Perciuall."

GefEeron
calls for a
spear that'
won't break,

and he'll
soon unhorse
Lybius !

1 coronals. — Cot. Coronel, the upper
part of a jousting-lance, constructed to
unhorse, but not to -svound, a knight.
Fairholt, p. 426 (-with a cut of one).
— F. This seems to be the same as Crow-
nail, St. 40 [of MS., 1. 993 here], both

seem to signify the heads of th^ spears.
—P.

^ disours, tellers, narraters. — F.

^ gon. — Cot.

* steke for stuck, rhithmi gratia. — P.

452

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

They charge
again.

Gefferon

loses his
shield.

1004

1008

1012

then the Knights both tow
rode together swithe thoe

w/th great reii[d]o\yne ' :
Sir Lybius smote Sir GefFron soe
that his sheild ffell him ffroe

into the ffeeld againe.^
then laughed all that was there,
& said without more,

Duke, Erie, or Barron,
that " the saw neuer a Knight,
ne noe man abide might

a course of Sir Geffron."

The third
course,
Gefferon
does no-
thing.

The fourth,

1016

1020

another course gan the ryde :

S^'r Geflfron was aggreeued that tyde

ffor hee might not speede.
he rode againe al soe '^ tyte,
& Sir Lybius he gan "* smite

as a doughtye man of deed.

Lybius

bi'eaks

Gefferon's

back,

and wins his
falcon.

1024

1028

1032

Sir Lybius smote him soe ffast
that Sir Geffron soone he cast

him and his horsse a-downe ;
Sir leffrons backe bone he brake
that the ffolkes hard itt cracke ;

lost was his renowne.
then they all said, lesse & more,
that Sir Geffrons had Lore

the white Gerffawcon.^
the people came Sir Lybius before,
& went w/th him, lesse & more,

anon into the towne ;

' With welle greet Eaundoun. — Cot.
^ I would read adowne. see below, st.
45. — P. a-doun. — Cot. a-downe. — L.

MS. alsoe.— F.
MS. gam.— F.
Only half the w in the MS.— F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

453

1036

& Sir GefFron fFrom the ffeeld
was borne home on his sheild

with care and ruefFull mone.
the Gerflfawcon sent was,
hj a kniglit that hight Chandas,'

to bring to Arthur wrth tlie crowne ;

GefEeron is

carried

home.

The falcon
is seat by
Chaudas

1040

1044

& rote ^ to him all that dead,^
& With him he gan to leade

the fFawcon that Sir Lybius wan.
when the Kdng had heard itt read,
he said to his 'knights in that stead,

" Sir Lybius well warr can !
he hath me sent with honor
that he hath done battells 4

since ^7iat he began ;

1048 I will him send of my treasure,

flFor to spend to his honor,

as fialleth'* ffor such a man."

to King
Arthur,

who praises
L3bius,

1052

1056

a 100" ready ^ prest

of ffloryins to spend with the best,

he sent to Cardigan towne.
then Sir Lybius held a feast
that lasted 40 dayes att Least

with Lords of renowne.^
& att the 6: weeke end
hee tooke his leaue, ffor to wend,

of duke, Erie, and Barron.

and sends
him to
Cardigan
£100 of
florins,
with which
Lybius
makes a
forty days'
feast.

and then
takes his
leave.

' There was one Chandos a herald,
whose book is preserved iii Worcester
College Library, Oxon. — P.

2 He wrote, sic legerim. — P.

" deed.— P.

* fitteth, qu.— P.

^ ready, speedy. — P.

^ The Cotton text sends the falcon
by a knyght that hyght Gludas, to King
Arthur; and Arthur sends Lybius back
a hundred pound of florins to Cardelof,
where Lybius holds feast forty davs.
(MS. leaf 49, col. 2 ; ed. Ritson, p. 42).
— F.

454

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

[The Fifth Part.]

[The Adventure of the Hound, and the Fight with Sir Otes de Lile.]

Lybius rides

towards
Sinadon.

He hears a
horn,

and the
dwarf says
it's

1060

5! parte

1064

1068

'Sir Lybius and his ffaire May-
rode ffortli on theii' way

towards Sinadon.
then as they rod in a throwe,^
<^ homes heard they lowd blowe,
& hoinds ^ of great game,
the dwarffe said in thai throwe,^
" that home I well know
many yeeres agone ;

Sir Otes de
Lile's.

1072

" Thatt home bloweth S/r Ortes de lile,
That serued "* my Ladye a while

seemlye in her hall ;
& when shee was taken with, guile,
he ffled from that perill

west into worrall.^ "

[page 332]

Then they
see a
beautiful
hound

1076

1080

but as they rode talking,
they saw a ratch ^ runinge

ouerthwart the way.
then said both old & young,
" fFrom the ffirst begining

they saw neuer none soe gay.

' a short space, sed vid. infra, perhaps
in a row. — P. A.-S. \>rah, a space, time.
— F.

^ hounds. — P.

^ a cast, a stroke. It. short space,
Chauc. GL— P.

* seruede. — Cot.

s Wyrhale.— Cot.

^ Hatches. Genus Canum : Braccones,
Lye. Jun. — P. A.-S. rcpce, a rach, a
setting dog ? Lye, in Bosworth. ? a dog
hunting by scent.— F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

455

hee was of all couloures
that men may see on flowers
betweene MidsumHier & May.
1084 tlie Mayd sayd al soe ^ soone,

" soe faire a ratch. I neuer saw none,
nox' pleasanter to my pay ^ !

of all sorts
of colours.

Hellen
wishes sli3
lal it.

1088

1092

1096

" wold to God that I him ought 3 ! "
Sir Lybins anon him caught,

& gaue him to maid Elen.'*
they rode fforth all rightes,
& told of ffighting with 'Knights

fibr ladyes bright & sheene.
they had rydden but a while,
not the space of [a] Mile

into that fibrrest greene ;
then they saw a hind sterke,^
& 2 grayhounds that were like

the ratch that I of meane.

So Lybius
catches it
and gives it
her.

Soon tl.ey

see a stag
followed by
two grey-
hounds,

1100

1104

the hunted ^ still vnder the Lind ^
to see the course of that hind

vnder the fforrest side,
there beside dwelled that "Knight
that Sir Otes de lile hight,

a man of much pride ;
he was cladd all in Inde,**
& flTast pursued after the hind

and stop to
watch her.

Sir Otes de
Lile

1 MS. alsoe.-F.

^ satisfaction, liking. — P.

^ owned, possest. — P..

■* The French text makes the hound
stop with a thorn in its foot; Hellen
takes it out, rides oflf with the dog, and
a huntsman sees it under her cloak.
She refuses to give it up to him or his
master, and so Sir Otes, or L" Orgiiillous
de la Lande, rides oif for his armour, and

fights Lybius. — F.

* stout Hind. — P.

^ hovede (stopt). — Cot.

^ Properly a Teil or Lime tree, but
in these ballads it seems to be used for
Trees in general. — P.

* i.e. azure or blue as used by Lydg.
— black according to Sp. Gl. ad Ch.
—P.

456

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

rides by on a
bay,

llOS

sees Lybiiis
and Hellen,

and
remonstrates

witli them
for taking
his hound.

Lybius says
he means to
keep it.

Sir Otes
warns him
to look out
for his life.

Lybius calls
him a churl.

Sir Otes
rebukes him ;

1112

lllG

1120

1124

1128

1132

1136

1140

vpon a bay distere ;
loude lie gan his liorne blow,
for the hunters shold itt know,

& know where he wei'e.

as he rode by that woode right,
there he saw thai younge TLnight

& alsoe thai ffaire May ;
the}' dwarffe rode by his side.
S/'r Otes bade they shold abyde,

they Ledd ^ his ratch away :
" fFreinds," he said, " why doe you soe ?
let my ratch ffrom you goe ;

good for you itt were.
I say to you without Lye,
this ratch has beene my

all out this 7 yeere."

S/r Lybius said anon tho,

" I tooke him with my hands 2,

& w^'th me shall he abyde ;
I gaue him to this maid hend ^
thai With me dothe wend

riding by my side."
then said Sir Otes de lile,
" thou puttest thee in great -periW

to be slaine, if thou abide."
Sir Lybius said in thai while,
" I giue right nought of thy wile,

churle ! tho thou chyde."

then spake Sir Otes de lile,
& said, " thy words be vile !

churle was neuer my name !
I say to thee without ffayle,
the countesse of Carlile

certes was my dame ;

' The last d has a tag to it.— F.

2 gentle, kind. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

457

1144

1148

1152

" & if I were armed now
as well as art thou,

wee wold flight in- same.
or thou my ratch ifrom me reue,'
we wold play, ere itt were eue,

a wonderous strong game."
S*r Lybius said al soe ^ prest,
" goe fforth & doe thy best ;

Thy ratch with mee shall wend." [page 333]
they rode on right ^ west
througe a deepe fforrest,

then as the dwarfFe them kend.'*

if he were
armed, he
would fight
him.

Lybius says
" Do your

best,"

aud rides on.

1156

1160

1164

Sir Otes de lile in that stower
rode home into his Tower,

& iFor his ffreinds sent,
& told them anon-rights
how one of Arthurs K.nights

shamely had him shent,
& had his ratch e away Inome.^
then the sayd all and some,^

that " theese shall soone be tane ;
& neuer home shall hee come
tho he were as grim a groome

as euer was Sir Gawaine." ^

Sir otes

tells his
friends

how badly
Lybius has
treated him.

They say
they'll soon
take Lybius.

they dight them to armes
with gleaues ^ and gysarmes,^
as they wold warr on take :
1168 Knights and squiers

They and
their friends
arm,

' bereave, take away. — P.
2 alsoe, MS.— F.

^ th is crossed out between t and w.
— F.

* taught, made known. Gl. Ch. — P.

* y-nome, taken. Sax. niman, to take,
hinc nim. 'Lye. — P.

* sone in MS. — F.

' t'au3 he were t'ojtyere gome

Thau Lauwcelot du lake. — Cot.

M. Hippeau prints "tliogh tyer," which
doesn't look much like " doughtier " at first.
MS. is clear, leaf 50, col. 2, 1. 5.— F.

*• gleave, a sword, cutlace, Fr. glaive.
— P. swerdes. — Cot.

^ gysarme, a hulbort or Bill. Sk. — P.

VOL. JI.

H H

458

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

leapt on their disteres
ffor their Lords sake.

see Lybins,

and say
they'll kill
him.

Lybius

advises
Hellen

1172

1176

1180

vpon a hill trulje

Sir Lybius they can espye,

ryding a well good pace,
to him gan they loud crye,
& said, "thou shalt dye

ffor thy great trespas ! "
S('r Lybius agaiae beheld
how ffull was the ffeild,

for many people there was ;
he said to Maid Ellen,
" ffor this ratch I weene

to vs commeth a carefall case.

to hide in
the forest.

He will
abide the
battle.

Lybius's foes

Gre at him
with bows

and wound
him.

He rides
down men
and horses,

" I rede thai yee withdraw
1184 yonder into the woods wawe,^
jour heads for to hyde ;
ffor here vpon this plaine,
tho I shold be slaine,
1188 the battell I will abyde."
into the fforrest the rode ;
and Slv Lybius there abode
of him what may betyde.
1192 then the smote at him with crossebowes,
With speare, & with bowes turkoys,^
^7iat made him wounds wyde.

S/r Lybius with his horsse ran,
1196 & bare downe horsse and man ;

' wode schawe. — Cot. wawe is used
in Chaucer for a wave, but that can
hardly be the sense here. — P. ? Waw,
•wall. Jamieson. — F.

^ i. e. longbowes. Fr. Turquois,

Turkish, such as the Turks use. Gl. ad
CD.— P. See Strutt, p. 66, ed. 1830.
— F.

With bowe and wit/* arblaste
To hym they schote faste. — Cot.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

459

1200

ffor notliing wold he spare,
euery man said then
tliat hee was the fFeend Sathan

thai wold mankind iForfare ^ ;

like Satan,

1204

ffor he thai Sir Lybius raught,
his death wound there he caught,

& smote them downe by-deene.
but anon he was besett,
as a ffish in a nett,

with groomes ^ ffell and keene ;

but is beset

1208

1212

1216

for 12 K.nighis verelye

he saw come ryding redylye

in armes ffaire & bright ;
all the day they had rest,
for the thought in the fforrest

to see Sir Lybius thai Knight,
in a sweate they were all 12, —
one was the Jjord himselfe

in they ^ ryme to read right : —
they smote att him all att once,
ffor they thought to breake his bones

& ffell him downe in ffight.

by twelve
knights

wlio have
waited for
him ,

and all

attack him
at once.

1220

1224

ffast togcether can the ding' :

& round they stroakes he gan fflinge

among them all in fere ;
fforsooth Without Leasing
the sparkells out gan springe

of sheeld and harnesse ■* cleere.
Sir Lybius slew of them 3,
& 4 away gan fflee

Lybius

kills three
of them ;
four flee.

• perdere, perire. A.-S. forfarcm, ' the. — P. There is nothing of this

Lye. — P. incident in the French. — F.

'2 men.— P. ^ Only half the n in the MS.— F.

H H 2

460

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Sir Otes and
his four Bons

And wold not come him nere
1228 the horcl abode in that stoure,
& soe did his sonnes 4,
to sell their Hues deere.

fp.igc 334]

strike at
Lybius.

nis blood
flows,

his sword
breaks,

Sir otes cuts
into his
head,

1232

1236

1240

then they gaue ' stroakes riue,^
he one against them 5,

& ffought as they were wood,
nye downe they gan him bring ;
as the water of a Spring

of him ran the bloode ;
his sword brake by the hilte ;
then was he neere spilt ;

he was fiFull madd of moode.
the horcl a stroake on him sett
through helme and Basnett,

in the skull itt stoode.

and he
swoons ;

but soon
he revives.

seizes liis
axe,

1244

1248

1252

then in a svvoone he lowted lowe ;
he leaned on his saddle bow

as a man that was nye slake ;
his 4 sonnes were all a bowne ^
ffor to pensh ■* his Acton,^

double Maile and plate ;
but as he gan to smart,
againe he plucked vp ^ his hart,

as the Kinde ^ of his estate ;
& soone he hent in his fl&st
an axe that hanged on his sadle crest.

almost itt was too late.

and kills
three horses.

then he ffought as a 'Knight ;
1256 their horsses ffell downe right.

' gan. — P.

* rive, To thrust, stab, to rend, &c.
Gl. ad Ch.— P. ? rife, all about.— F.

' ready. — P.

* perce. — Cot. persyne. — Lam. MS.

^ Pr. Hocqueton. — P.
" Vp he pullede. — Cot. (leaf 50, back,
col. 2.) He pulled vp. —Lam.

' Four strokes for in in the MS. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

461

1260

1264

he slew att stroakes 3.
& when the horcl saw the ffight,
of his horsse a-downe gan Hght,^

away hee ffast gan flSee.
Sir Lybius noe longer abode,
but after him ffast he rode,

& vnder a chest of tree ^
there he had him killed ;
but the Jjord him yeelded

att his will ffor to bee,

Sir Otcs

Lybius
catches him,

and Sir Otes
yields up
himself

& ffor to yeeld him his stent, ^
1268 treasure. Land, and rent,
Castle, hall, & tower.
Sir Lybius consented therto
in * fforward that he wold goe
1272 vnto King Arthur,

& say, " Lord of great renowne !
in battell I am ouerthrowne ;
& sent thee to honor,"
1276 the hord granted theretill,
ffor to doe all his will.

they went home to his tower,

& anon Maiden Ellen
1280 wi'th knights ffiueteene

was ffeitched into the Castle,
shee & the dwarffe by-deene
told of his deeds Keene,
1284 & how that itt befell
that hee had presents ^ 4
sent vnto K.mg Arthur,

and all his
lands and
goods.

and agrees to
go to King
Arthur

and honour
him.

They go to
Sir Otes's
castle.
Hellen is
brought
there.

and tells Sir

otes

that he is

Lybius's

fourth

present to

Arthur,

' And on hys courser ly;t. — Cot.

2 a chesten tree, i. e. a Chesnut Tree.
Sic legerira. vid. Gri, ad Chauc, — P.
chesteyn. — Cot. chesteyne. — Lam.

' his stint, ajncd Salopietiscs, signifies

his measure, his quantity, his share,
— P, be sertayne extante. — Cot.

* MS, him.— F, in,— Cot.

^ presentes, — Cot, persones. — Lam,

462

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Lybiua

recovers
from his
wounds

and rides on

towards

Siuadon.

Sir Otes goes
to Arthur,

and tells him
how Lybius
beat him.

thai lie had woone fFull well,
1288 tlie Lord was glad & blythe,
& thanked god often sithe,
& alsoe S! Michall,i

tliat such a noble KJaight
1292 shold fFor that Ladye ffight

that was soe fiaire and ffree.

in the towne dwelled a 'Knighi :

att the ffuU ffortnight
1296 Sir Lybyus ^ there gan bee,

& did heale him of his wounds
bothe hole and sound
by the 6 weekes end.
1300 then Bir Lybius and his May
rode fforthe on their way,

to Sinadon to wend ;
and alsoe the Lord of that tower
1304 went vnto K.ing Arthur,

& prisoner him did yeeld,
& told how a 'Kyiight younge
in ffighting had him woone,
1308 & ouercome him in the ffeeld ;

& said, " LoJvZ of great renowne !
I am in battell brought a-downe

With a 'Knight soe bolde."
1312 King Arthur had good game,
& soe had they all in-same

that heard that tale soe told.^

[page 335]

' The Cotton text omits the rest of
this part. The French of the whole
part is very different. — F.

^ One stroke too many for u in the
MS. There means, I suppose, the house
of the knight of 1. 1294. The Lambeth
MS. has :

Lybeous a fourtenyght
Then with him came lende,

He did hclen his wounde,
And made him hole and sownde.
Corresponding nearly with our text. — F.
' The French puts in here its tale of
the Falcon or Sparrow-hawk, which M.
Hippeau summarises thus, p. x. :

L'Inconnu, Eobert, Helie, et son naii,
aper(;oivent, en sortant du bois [where
Lybius has vanqiushed V Orgxdllous de

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

463

1316

6f parte

1320

1324

[The Sixth Part.]

[Lybius's Adventure at the lie Dore.]

'IS^ow let TS rest awhile
of Sir Otes de lile,

& tell wee other tales.
Sir Lybius rode many a mile,
sawe * aduentures many & vile

in England ^ & in Wales,
till itt befFell in the monthe of June,
when the ffenell ^ hangeth in the towne
. all greene in seemlye manner,''
The midsum?Her^ day is ffaire & long;
merry is the ffoules songe,

the notes of birds on bryar ^ ;

Lybius sees
adyentures

in England
and Wales.

On Mid-
summer day

la Lande, our Sir Otes], un castel cl'ou
descend, pour venir a leur rencontre,
une dame richement vetue et d'une
beaute ravissante. EUe leur apprend
que celui quelle aimait a ete tue par un
chevalier redoutable qui habite le cha-
teau. La se trouve, dit-elle, un epervier
perche sur un baton d'or. La damoi-
selle qui pourra s'en emparer sera pro-
clamee la plus belle ; mais elle devra
se faire aceompagner par un chevalier
assez hardi pour oser se mesurer avee le
maitre de I'epervier. La pauvre damoi-
selle, desireuse d'obtenir le prix de la
beaute, avait conduit a ce chateaii son
ami qui avait succombe dans une lutte
inegale. " Je le vengerai, et vous serez
reconnue comme la plus belle ! " dit
rinconnu, qui trouve I'occasion d'un
nouveau triomphe. Giffld, le fils
cV 0, est terrasse an effet; et, comme
rinconnu apprend que la jeune fille
pour laquelle il vient de se battre est
Marguerie, la fille du roi d'Ecosse, Ago-
lant, il I'a fait conduire chez son pere
par un chevalier dont la valeur et la
loyaute sont eprouvees. Helie reoon-
nait en elle sa cousine ; elle lui fait de
tendres adieux. "Je ne sais," dit-elle
avec sensibility, " si jamais je vous re-

verrai, mais je voixs aimerai toujours ! "
— F.

' One stroke too many for the w in
the MS.— F.

* Among aventurus fyle

In Yrland. — Cot.
and sey awntours the while
and [iu] Irlande. — Lam.
Vile = fele'7 numerous. — F.
^ cerfille and finale Chervil & fennel
fela mihtigu twa Two very * mighty

(ones)
)>a wyrte gesceop These worts formed
witig drihten (The) wit-fulf Lord

halig on heofenum Holy in heavens
)>& he hongode sette Them he set hung-
up +
and ssende on vii. And sent to the 7

worulde worlds

earmum and eadi- For the poor & the

gum rich

eallimi to bote. For a remedy § for

all.
Leechdovis, iii. 34-7, ed. Cockayne.
■* P. has added an e to the r. — F.
sales. — Cot. saale. — Lam.

5 One stroke too few in the MS. — F.

* briere. — P.

As notes of the nyjtyngales. — Cot.
And notis of the nyghtyngale. — Lam.

* fair and. — Cockayne.
t Wise he and witty is.— C.

X he suspended.— C.
§ Panacea. — C.

464

Lybius

sees a fair
city,

which
Hellen
tells him

is He d'Ore,

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

S*r Lybius then gan ryde
1 328 along by a riuer side,
& saw a fFaire Citye
With pauillyons of much pride,
& a castle fiaire & wyde,
1332 and gates great plentye.

he asked fFast what itt hight :
the maid said anon-right,
" Sir, I will teU thee ;
1336 men clepeth itt lie dore ; •

there hath beene slaine 'Knights more
then beene in this countrye

and that a
lovely lady
is kept there

by the giant
Mangys,

to whom
every knight
must bow,
and lay down
his armour.

1340

1344

1348

" ffor a Ladye that is of price,
her coulour is red as rose on rise.^

all this cuntry is in doubt
ffor a Gyant that hight Mangys,^
there is noe more such theeues ! *

that JjSidye hee lyeth about ;
he is heathen, as blacke as pitch ;
now there be no more such

of deeds strong & stout ;
what 'K.night that passeth this brigg,
his armes he must downe ligg,

& to the gyant Lout.^

" he is 20 « ffoote of lenght,
1352 & much more of strenght

' Isle Dor, Fr. Yledor.— Cot. II-
deore. — Lam. The French has a long
description of the Castle, but nothing
about the giant Mangys. It is a knight,
Malgiers li Gris (p. 77), who there de-
fends the entrance to the castle ; and if he
conqiiers every comer for seven years
(or nine according to M. Hippeau) he is
to wed La Dame aitx blanches Mains.
The knight has killed 143 opponents,

and cut their heads off (p. 71, 1. 1985),
when he is overcome by Lybius. — F.

^ sprig, twig, shrub, Jun. Lye. — P.

^ Maungys. — Cot.

* Nowhere hys pere ther nys. — Cot.
Nowhere is non suche. — Lam.

^ MS. Cot. omits the next twelve lines.

-F.

thirty. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

465

1356

1360

then other 'Knights ffiue.
Sir Lybius ! now ' bethinke thee,
hee is more grimwner ffor to see

then any one aliue ; ^
he beareth haires on his brow
like the bristles of a sow ;

his head is great & stout ^ ;
eche arme is the lenght of an ell,
his ffists beene great & ffell,

dints ffor to driue about,"

She warns
Lybius not
to fight him.

1364

1368

1372

Sir Lybius said, " maiden hand !
on our way wee will wend

ffor all his stroakes ill.
if god will me grace send,
or this day come to an end

I hope him ffor to spill.^
tho I be young & lite,^
I will him sore smyte,

& let god doe his will.
I beseech god almight
that I may soe with him ffight,

that giant ^ ffor to kill."

Lybius says

that by
God's help
he'll kill
him before
the day ends.

1376

1380

then they rode fforth all 3
vnto that ffaire cytye,

men call itt lie dore ^ ;
anon Mangy can they see
"^on a bridge of tree,

as grimm as any bore ;

Near

He d'Ore

they see
Maugys

' well. — Lam.

2 That thou with him ne maeched bee,
He is gryme to Diseryue. — Lam.

^ grete as an hyve. — Cot.

* Cot. inserts here :

I have y-seyn grete okes
Falle fore wyndes strokes,

J?e smale han stonde etylle,
and omits the last three lines of the
stanza. Lam. does the same, altering
the words a little. — F.

* lite, little.— P.

« MS. grant. — F. giant, qu. — P.

' Ylledore. — Cot. Iledoloz^r. — Lam.

466

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

■with a black
shield,

a spear
and sword.

1384

liis sheilcl waB blacke as ter ' ;
his paytrill,2 his cronper,^

3 mammetts ^ there-in were ;
the were gaylye gilt with, gold ;
& a spere in his hand he did. hold,

& alsoe his sword in ffere.

Mangys asks
Lybius who
he is,

and advises
him to turn
back.

Lybius

refuses.

1388

1392

1396

He cryed to him in despite,
& said, " ifellow, I thee quite ! ^

now what thou art, mee tell ;
& turne againe al soe ^ tyte
ffor thine owne proffitt,

if thou loue thy selfe well."
Sir Lybius said anon-right,
" 'King Arthur made me a Knight.

vnto him I made my vow
that I shold neuer turne my backe
ffor noe such devill in blacke.

goe ! make thee readye now ! "

[page 336]

They charge

(Lords and
ladies

N"ow Sir Lybius & Mangys,
1 400 Of horsses ^ proud of price

together they rode full right ;
both LortZs & Ladyes there
Lay on pount tornere ^
1 404 to see that seemlye sight,

' tar. — F. perhaps as Aster, Haster,
or Aster is a word still used in Shrop-
shire, signifying the back of the chimney.
"As black as the Haster" is a common
expression ■with them..- — P. pych.— Cot.
pycche. — Lam. The French knight's
shield is Sinojjle, greene colour (in
Blazon). — Cotgrave :
Les eseus a sinople estoit,
Et mains blances parmi avoit (p. 73). — F.

^ Poitrel, T^eyXve[,antilcna : The breast-
armour for a horse. Jun. — P.

^ croupere. — P.

■* Mammet, a puppet, an Image, a

false-god. Jun. — P. One stroke too
many in the MS.— F.

^ Say, Jjcu fela'w yn whyt. — Cot. &
Lam.

« MS. alsoe.— F.

' On Horses. — P. On stedes. — Cot. &
Lam.

' ? Pont Tornere, the name of the
bridge. — F.

Leyn out yn poroet tours. — Cot.

Laynen in her toures. — Lam.

The French text brings them all out
of the castle, except La Dame aux
blanches Mains. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

467

1408

& prayed to god loud & still,
" if that itt were his will,

to helpe that cristyan knight ;
& the vile Gyaunt
that beleeuetli in Termagant,

that lie might dye in ffight ! "

pray th.at

Lybius may

kill

Mangys).

1412

1416

1420

theire speres brake assnnder,

their stroakes ffared as the thunder, >

the peeces gan out spring,
euery man had great wonder
that Sir Lyhius had not beeue vnder

att the ffirst begininge.
anon they drew sords bothe ;
as men that were ffull wrothe,

together gan they dinge :
Sir Lybius smote Mangyes thoc
that his sheild fFell him ffroe,

in the fFeild he gan itt filing.

Their spears
break ;

they draw
their

swords ;

Lybius cuts
away
Mangys's
shield ;

1424

1428

1432

Mangyes gan smite in that stead
St'r Lybius horse on the head,

& dashed out his braine ;
his horsse fell downe dyinge.
S^'r Lybius sayd nothing,

but start vp againe ;
an axe in his hand he hent anon
that hunge on his sadle arson, ^

& smote a stroake of maine
through Mangis horsse swire,^
earned him throng long* & liuer,^

& quitt him well againe.

Mangys kills

Lybius's

horse,

and I^ybius

kills his.

' The first part of thunder is blotted
in the MS. — F. donder. — Cot. thonder.
—Lam.

2 ar9on. Fr. i.e. saddle bow.— P.

" swire, swere, the neck. Gl. ad Ch.
—P.

* through lung. — P.

* P. has added an e to the end of
Nicer. — P.

fore-karf bon and lyre. — Cot.
forkarve bone and lyre. — Lam.

468

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Then each

wounds the
other badly,

and they
fight from
six to
evensong.

Lybius asks
leave to get
some drink.

1436

1440

1444

descriue the stroakes cold no man
thai were giuen betwene them then ;

' to bedd peace was no boote thoe ;
deepe wounds there they caught,
ffor they both sore iFought,

& either was others fFoe.
ffro : the hower of prime
till it was euensong time,

they ffought together thoe.
Sir Lybius thirsted then sore,
& sayd, " Mangy es, thine ore ^ !

to drinke lett me goe ;

1448

1452

" & I will grant to thee,
what loue ^ thou biddest mee,

such happe if thee betyde.
great shame itt wold bee
a K.7iight ffor thirst shold dye,

& to thee litle pryde."

Mangys
gives it him,

but as he
lies down
drinking

knocks him
into the
river.

Lybius gets
out,

1456

1460

1464

Mangies granted him his will,
ffor to drinke his fiB.ll

Without any more despite,
as Sir Lybius lay ouer the banke,
through his helme he dranke ;

Mangyes gan him smite
that into the riuer he goes,
but vp anon he rose ;

wonderffull he was dight
With his armour euery deale ;
" now by S' Micaheel

I am twise as light !

' It was no boot then to bid (propose)
peace.— P. Cot. and Lam. have differ-
ent lines. — F.

' mercy. — F.

^ bone. — C. & Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

469

1468

1472

1476

"what -weenest thout ffeend fere ?
that I vncliirstened were

or thou saw itt with sight ?
I shall, ffor thy baptise, [page 337]

well qu[i]tte thee thy service,

by the grace of god almight."
a new battell there began ;
either fFast to other ran,

& stroakes gaue with might,
there was many a gentleman,
and alsoe Ladyes as white as swan,

they prayed all ffor the Knight.

and tells
Mangys

he'll pay
him out.

They fight
again ; |

1480

but Mangis anon in the ffeild
earned assunder Sir Lybius sheild

With stroakes of armes great,
then Sir Lybius rann away
thither were Mangis sheild Lay ;

& vp he can itt gett.

Mangys

cuts Ly bias's
shield in
two.

Lybius gets
Mangys' 8
shield ;

1484

1488

1492

& ran againe to him ' ;
with stroakes great and grim

together they did assayle ;
there beside the watter brimne
till it waxed wonderous dimm,

betweene them lasted that battell.^
Sir Lybius was warryour wight,
& smote a stroke of much might ;

through hawberke,^ plate and maile,
hee smote of by the shoolder bone
his right arme soone and anon

into the ffeild With-out ffaile.

and they
fight on

till Lybius

cuts off
Mangys's
right arm.

' One stroke too many in MS. — F.
2 battayle.— P.

' coat of mail, thro' plate ^- mail, is
used both by Milton & Spencer. — P.

470

Mangys

flees.

Lybius
pursues him,
and cuts his
back in two,

and his head
off.

Lybius goes
into the
town,

and is
received by
the beautiful
Madam de
Arnioroure,

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

' when the gyant that gan see
1406 that he shold slaine bee,

hee ffled with much maine.
Sir Lybius after him gan hye,
& with strong stroakes mightye
1500 smote his backe in twaine.

thus was the Gyant dead :
Sir Lybius smote of his head ;
then was the people ffaine.^
1504 Sir Lybius bare the head to the towne ;
the mett him with a ffaire i^vocession,
the people came him againe.

a Ladye white as the Lyllye fflowcr,
1508 hight Madam de Armoroure,^
receiued that gentle Knight,
& thanked him in that stoure

' The Ashmole MS. 61 reads :
Tho gyante gane to se
That sleyne schiild [he] be :

He stode to fense A-3eyne,
And at ^e secuwd stroke
Syre lybeus to hym smote,

And brake hys Arme in tweyne.
The gyaute ]>er he leiiyd,
lybeus smote of hj's hede,

There-of he was full feyne ;
He bore J^e hed in-to l>e toune.
WitA A feyre prosessyouw

The folke come hym A-jene.
That lady was whyte As flowre
That men callyd denamowre.

&c. &c.

2 glad. — P. And of J^e batayle was
fayn. — Cot.

^ The French text has a glowing des-
cription of the lady's beauty (p. 78-9) :

Sa biaut6 tel clarte jeta,
Quant ele ens le palais entra,
Com la lune qu'ist de la nue . .
Plus estoit blance d'une flor,
Et d'une vermelle color
Estoit sa face enlumin^e :
Moult estoit bele et colorcio.
Les oels ot vair, boce riant,

Le cors bien faict et avenant ;

Les levres avoit rermelletes,
[one Line wanting in the MS.]

Boce bien faite por baisier,

Et bras bien fais por embracer.

Mains ot blanees com flors de lis,

Et la gorges, desous le vis.

Cors ot bien fait, et le cief blont ;

Onques si bele n'ot el mont.

Ele estoit d'un samit vestue,

Onques si bele n'ot sous nue.

La pane en fu moult bien ouvr^e

D'ermine tote escheker^e ;

Moult sont bien fait li esehekier,

Li orles fu mout a prisier ;

Et deriere ot ses cons jetes ;

D'un fil d'or les ot galones.

De roses avoit i capel

Moult avenant et gent et bel ;

D'un afremail son col froma.

Quant ele ens el palais entra.

Molt i ot gente damoisele,

Onques nus horn ne vit tant bele.

La dame entre el palais riant,

Al Desconneu vint devant . .
There is a further description of her
in her ccmise at p. 84-5. — E.

* la dame damore. — Cot.
la dame Amoure. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

471

1512

1516

tliai liee wold lier succour

against tlwX fFeend to fliglit.
into the cliamber shee him ledd,
& in purple & pall sliee him cledd,

& in rich rOyall weede ;
& profferred him w/th honor
ffor to be lord of towne & tower,
& her owne selfe to meede.

who clothes
Mm in
puri^le,

and offers
him her
lands and
herself.

1520

1524

1528

St'r Lybius ffrened * her in hast,
& loue to her anon he cast,

ffor shee was ffaire and sheene.
alas, tliai hee had not beene chast !
ffor afterwards att the Last

shee did him betray & teene.^
12 monthes and more
S/r Lybius tarryed thore,^

& miTnayden wtth I'enowne,
thai he might neuer out scape
ffor to helpe & ffor to wrake'*

the Ladye of Sinadone ;

He gives her
his love,

but she
betrays him
at last.
Lybius stays
twelve
months
there,

1532

1536

ffor f /tat ffaire Lady
told ^ more of Sorcery

then such other ffiue ;
shee made him great melodye,
of all manner of minstrelsye

tliai any man cold discreeue.

beguiled by
the Lad3''3
sorcery,

' asked. — P. grantede. — Cot.

* enrage, vex, grieve, G\. ad G.D.

N.B. This does not appear from any-
thing Ayhich follows in this Ballad: un-
less it be her detaining him by her
enchantments in these stanzas. — P.

' there : so in Chauc. — P. The French
Komanco keeps Lybius only a night in
the castle. The Lady comes to him in
her chemise, leans on his breast :

Ses mameles et sa poitrine

Furent blances comme flors d'espinc ;

Se li ot desus son pis mis. (p. 85-6.)
She desires his love. He wants to
kiss her, but she draws back, as that
would be lechery till lie had married
her, and leaves his room. Ho has
'troubled dreams, thinking he holds her
all night in his arms, and next morning
he resolutely rides awa}', but returns after
freeing the Lady of Sinadowne. — F,

* wreak, i.e. revenge. — P.

^ for cold, knew. — F,

472

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

for, when

looking on

her,

he thinks

himself in

Paradise.

1540

wten he looked on her flPace,

him thought certainlye tlmi hee was

in paradice aliue,
with ffantasye and fayrye ;
& shee bleared his eye

with ffalse sorcerye.

[The Seventh Part.]

At last,
Helleu meets
him,

and

reproaches
him

with his
faithlessness
to Arthur

and the Lady
of Siuadon.

Lybius is
touched to
the heart.

and they
ride off that
night.

Lybius

makes Sir
G-efEelett his
steward.

1544

1548

7'J Parte.1

till itt beffell vpon a day
he mett w*th Ellen thai may

betwene the Castle and the tower
Then vnto him shee gan say,
" thou art ffalse of thy ffay *

vnto King Arthur !
ffor the loue of that Ladye
that can soe much curtesye,

thou doest thee dishonor !
1552 My Ladye of Sinadon
may long lye in prison,
& thai is great dolour ! "

Sir Lybius hard her speake,
1556 him thought his hart wold breake
ffor sorrow & ffor shame,
att a posterne there beside
by night they gan out ryde
1560 ffrom thai gentle dame.

hee tooke with him his good steede,
his sheeld & his best weede,
& rode fforth all in- same ;
1564 & the 2 steward stout in ffere,
he made him his Squier,

Sz^r Geffelett ^ was his name.

[page 338]

» faith.— P.

2 Her.— Cot. Hir. -Lam.

Gyfaet.— Cot. Gurflete.— Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

473

•1568

1572

1576

they rode fForth. on their way,
but lightly on their lourney,

on bay horsses and browne ;
till itt befiell vpon a day
they saw a Citye fFaii^e and gay,

men call itt Sinadowne,^
wtth a Castle hye & wyde,
and pauillyons of much pride

thai were of ifaire iFashyon.
then said S/r Lybius
" I haue ^ great wonder of an vse

that he saw ^ in the towne ; "

and they
ride on

till they
see Sina-
downe.

Lybius asks
why they are

they gathered dirt & mire ifull fiast
1580 which. befFore was out cast,*
they gathered in I- wis.
Sir Lybius said in hast,
" tell me now, mayd chast,
1584 what betokeneth this ?

they take in all their hore ^
that was cast out beffore !
methinke they doe amisse."
1588 then sayd Mayd Ellen,

" Sir Lybius, w/thout Leasing
I will tell thee why itt is.

"there is no K-ing soe well arrayed,

1592 tho he had before payd,

that there shold take ostell,^
ffor a dread of a steward
that men call Sir Lamberd ;

1596 he is the constable of the Castle.

drawing into
the city tlie
dirt that
was before
cast out of
it:

What does
it mean ?

Hellen
answers

that no one
can lodge
there

for fear of
Sir Lamberd.

' synadownc. — Cot. Lam. La Cite
Gaste is the French name of Sinadownc ;
but this preliminary castle is called
Galigcms. — F.

2 He had (or).

3 I see.— P. The Cotton MS. reads :

But lybeaus desconus

VOL. II.

He hadde wondere of an vus
t>rtt he saw do yn tounc.
* For gore, and feu, and full wast,
That there was out y-kast. — Cot.
° Sax. horh, fimus, scruta, phlegma.
limus, Bens. Voc. — P.

" Fr. Jiostcl, hospitium, Domus.— P.

474

LIBIUS DISCONIUSi

If Lybius
asks for
lodging,

Lamberd

will joust
with Mm ;

1600

but ride into the Castle gate,
& aske thine inne theratt

both ffaire and well ;
& or he bidd thee nede,
lusting he will thee bedd,

by god & by Sf Michaell !

and if

Lamberd

wins,

all the

people in the
town will
throw dirt
on Lybius ;

and unless
he fights,

he'll be
called a
coward.

1604

16U8

1612

" & if he beare thee downe,
his trumpetts * shalbe bowne,

their beaugles ^ ffor to blow ;
then ouer all this towne,
both mayd & garsowne ^

but dirt on thee shall throwe ;
& but thou thither wend,
vnto thy Hues end

cowarde thou shalt be know ;
& soe may King Arthur
losse all his great honor

for thy deeds slowe ! "

Lybius says
he'll fight
Lamberd

and free the
lady.

He and his
squire ride
to the
Castle,

1616

1620

1624

Sot Lybius sayd, " that were despite !
thither I will goe ffull tyte,

if I be man on liue ;
ffor to doe Arthurs delight,
& to make that Lady quite,

to him I will driue.
S>iv Geffelett, make thee ready,
& lett vs now goe hastilye,

anon that wee were bowne."
they rode fforth on their gate
till they came ^ to the Castle gate

That was of great renowne.

[page 339]

' Trumpetters. — P.
^ bugles, hunting horns
a wild bull, Lye. — P.

from bugle,

Fr. Gargon, Boy. — P.
cane in the MS. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

475

1628

1632

1636

& there they asked Ostell
in that ffaire Castell

fFor a venturous knight,
the porter iFaire & well
lett them in fFull snell,

& asked anon-right,
" who is jouv gouernor ? "
they sayd, " King Arthvir,

a man of much might,
to be a king he is worthye,
he is the fflower of Chiualrye,

his ffone to ffell in ffisfht."

and ask for
lodging.

The porter

asks who
their
Governor is.

"King
Arthur,

the flower of
chivalry ! "

1640

1644

1648

the porter went without flPable
to his lord the Constable,

& this tale him told :
" Sir, w^'thout any IFable,
of Arthurs round table

be comen 2 knights bold,
the one is armed fFull sure
With rich & royall armoure,

With 3 Lyons of gold."
the LorfZ was gladd & blythe,
& said to them ffull swythe,

lust w^th them hee wold :

The porter

tells
Laniberd

that two of
Arthur's
knights have
come.

Lamberd
says they

16.52

1656

" bidd them make them yare ^
into the ffeeld ffor to ffare
wi'thout the Castle o-ate."

the porter wold not stent,^
but euen anon went

to them lightlye att the yate,
& sayd anon-rightes,
"yee aduenturous knights,

are to get
ready to
fight.

The porter

tolls them

' ready, Sax. Gearwe. — P. se gearwa, Bosworth.— F.

stint, stop. — P.

476

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

ffor nothing thai yee Lett ;
1660 Looke jour slieelds be good & strong,
& yowr speres good and long,
sheild, plate, & Basnett,

to ride into
the field,
and his
lord will

figlit them.

They ride in,
and wait for

Laonberd,

1664

1668

1672

" & ryde yon into the ffeild ;
my Lord -with, speare and sheild

anon with yon will play."
Sir Lybins spake words bold,
& said, "this tale is well told,

& pleasant to my pay.* "
into the feld the rode,
& boldlye there abode

in their best array. ^
S[ir] Lamberd armed flhll weele
both in Iron and in Steele

tJiat was both stont & gay ;

whose shield

is black,

his armour
too.

Two sqnires
attend him,

1676

1680

his sheeld was sure & ffine,
3 bores heads was therin

as blacke as brond brent,^
the bordnre was of rich armin, —
there was none soe qnent * a ginn *

ffrom Carlile into Kent, —
& of the same paynture
was his paytrell & his armoure.

in lande where ener he went,
1684 2 sqniers w^'th him did ryde,
& bare 3 speares by his side

to deale with doughty e dint.

1688

then thai stout stewared
thai hiffht Sir Lamberd

' liking. — P.

2 As best bro^t to bay.— C.
As testis brought to baye.— Lam.

' i. e. burnt brand. — P.

^ qnent, queint. — P.

^ ginne, trick, contriTance. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

477

1692

1696

armed him ffull well & bright,
& rode into the ffeild ward —
ffeircely as any Libbard —

there abode him that knight,
him tooke a speare of great shape ; '
he thought he came to Late.

when he him saw with sight,
soone he ^ rode to him tliat stond
with a speare tliat was round,

as a man of much misfht.

and he rides
into the
field as fierce
aa a leopard.

Lybius
charges him.

1700

1704

1708

Either smote on others sheeld
tliat the peeces ffell in the ffeild

of theire speares long,
euery man to other tolde
" that younge K.night is ffull bold."

to him with a speare he fflounge ;
Sir Lamberd did stifflye ssitt ;
he was wrath out of his witt

ffor Ire and ffor teene,^ [page 340]

& sayd, " bring me a speare !
ffor this Knight is not to Lere,

soone itt shalbe seene." '*

and both
shatter their
spears.

1712

1716

then they tooke shaftes round,
with crownalls sharpe ground,

& ffast to-gether did run ;
either proued other in that stond
to give either theire deaths wound,

with harts as ffeirce as any Lyon.
Lamberd smote Sir Lybius thoe
that his sheeld ffell him ffroe

They charge
again with
fresh spears.

Lamberd
knocks

Lybius's

' He smote liys schaft yn grate. — C.
He sette his shelde in grate. — Lam.
2 Lybeawus. — C. Lybeous. — Lam.
^ anger, madness, vexation. — P.

He cryde, "Do come a strangcrc

schaft !
3yf artoiirs kny3t kan craft,
Now liyt schalle be sene.— Cot.

478

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

sliield on tlic
ground,

into the ffeild a-downe ;
1720 Sir Lamberd liim soe liitt

that vnnethes ' liee miglit sett
vpright in his arsownie,^

and nearly

unhorses

him.

Lybius cuts
ofE

Lamberd's
helm,

and makes
him rock in
his saddle
like a child
in a cradle.

1724

1728

1732

his shaft brake with, great power.
Sir Lybius hitt him on the visor

that of went his hehne bright ;
the pesanye,^ ventayle,'* & gorgere,^
With the helme flQew fibrth in fere,

& Sir Lamberd vpright
sate rocking^ in his sadle
as a chyld in a cradle

without maine & might,
euery man tooke other by the lappe,
& laughed and gan their hands clappe,

barren, Burgesse, and 'Knight.

Lamberd

gets another
helm.

and they

charge

again.

Lybius

1736

1740

Sir Lamberd, he thought to sitt bett ;
another helme he made to ffett,'^

& a shaft ffull meete.
& when they together mett,
either other on their helmes sett

strokes grim & great,
then Sir Lamberds speare brast,
& Sir Lybius sate soe ffast

' scarcely. — P.

" saddle. — P. arsoun. — C.

^ pysaiie. — C. pesanie. — Lam. In
The Anturs of Arther, st. xlv. ed. Eob-
son, p. 21, is:

He girdus to Syr Gauane
Thro3he ventaylle and fusane ;
on whicli Dr. Eobson observes, p. 99,
" This was either the Gorget or a substi-
tute for it. In the Acts of Parliament
of Scotland (anno 1429) vol.. ii. p. 8,
it is ordered that every one worth 20^.
a year, or 100/. in moveable goods, ' be
wele horsit and haill enarmyt as a gen-

till man ancht to be. And uther sym-
pillare of X lib. of rent, or L lib. in
gudes half hat, gorgeat or 'pesaune, with
rerebrasares, vambrasares, and gluffes of
plate, breast plate, and leg splentes at
the lest, or better gif him likes.'" — F.

* auentayle. — C. ventail. The Part of
the Helmet wAech lifts up. Johns. — P.

* Gorgere, id. ac Gorget. The Piece
of ArmoKr which defends the throat.
Johns. — P.

" One stroke too many in this word in
the MS.— P.

' fett, fetch.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

479

1752

1756

in the saddle there hee ^ sett,
1744 that they Constable Sir Lamberd
ffell of his hoi'sse backward,
SOB sore they there mett.

Sir Lamberd was ashamed sore.
1748 Sir Lybius asked if he wold more.^

he answered and said " nay !
ifor sithe that euer I VN^as bore,
saw I neuer here beffore

none ryde soe to my pay !
by the faith that I am in,
thou art come of Sir Gawayines kin,

thou 3 art soe stout and gay.
if thou wilt flight ffor my Ladye,
welcome thou art to mee,

by my troth I say ! "

Sir Lybius sayd, " sikerlye
1760 I will flight for my Ladye ; ■*

I promised soe to "King Arthur ;
but I ne wott how ne why
who does her that villanye,
1764 ne what is her dolor ;

but this maid that is her mesenger,
certes has brought me here
her fibr to succour."
1768 Sir Lamberd said in that stond

" welcome, Sir 'K.night of the table round,
into my strong tower ! "

then mayd Ellen anon-rightes
1772 was fleitchcd fibrth with 5 Knights

unhorses
Lamberd,

and asks

Mm if he

wants any

more.

" No," says

Lamberd,

"you must be
of Gawame's
blood ;

will you
fight for
my lady ? "

" Certainly I
will.

Hellen has
brought me
here to help
her."

Lamberd
welcomes
him to his
tower.

' One stroke too many in this word in
the MS.— F.

- The French omits this question ;
makes Lampars go to Lybins and say :
" Sire," fait-il, " 9a, descendes ;
Par droit aves I'ostel conquis ;
Vos I'aueres a vo devis,"

then embrace Hellon or Hilic, and ask
her what she did (at Arthur's court).— F.

^ A letter is crossed out at the end of
this word in the MS. — F.

■* fFey3tc y schallc for a hidy. — 0.
ifyght y shall for thy ladye. — Lam.

480

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Hellen and
the Dwarf
are fetched

and relate

Lybius's

adventures.

1776

1780

beffore S/r Lamberd.
sliee & tlae dwarife by-deene
told of 6 battells ^ keene

that he bad done tbitberward
tbe sayd thai Sir Lybius tben
bad ffougbt witb strong men,

& beene in stowers bardye.
tben tbey were glad & blytbe,
& tbanked god alsoe sitbe ^

thai be were soe migbtye.

Lybius and
Lamberd
talk of old
heroes.

Lybius asks
what knight
has im-
prisoned the
Lady of
Sinadowne.

1784

1788

1792

tbey welcomed bim w^'tb mild cbeere,
& sett tbem to supper

witb mucb mirtb and game.
Sir Lybius & S*r Lamberd in fFere
of ancyents thai beffore were

talked botb in^-same.
Sir Lybius sayd, " witb-out ffable,'*
tell me now, Sir Constable,

wbat is tbe K.nights name
thai batb put in prison
my Ladye of Sinadon

thai is soe gentle a dame ? "

[page 341]

" No knight;

but two
clerks.

sorcerers,
named

1796

1800

Sir Lamberd said, " soe mote I gone,
Knif/his tliere beene none

thai dare bar away Lead ;
2 Clarkes beene ber ffone,
ffull ffalse in body & in bone,

thai batb done tbis deed,
tbey be men of Masterye
tbeir artes ffor to reade of Sorcerye[;

' Tolde seven dedes. — Cot.
2 fele syde.— C. fele sythe. — Lam.
Swithe' is quickly. — F.

3 im in the MS.— F.
* There is none of this in the French.
— F.

LIBIUS DISCONITJS.

481

Mabam ^ tlie liiglit one in cleede,
1804 & Iron higlit the otlier verelye,-
cla[r]ckes ^ of Nigromancye,
of tliem wee liaue great dread.

Mabam
and Iron,

necro-
mancers,

1808

1812

1816

" this Mabam & Irowne
haue made in the towne

a palace of quent gin ^ ;
there is no Erie ne barren
that has hart as Lyon

thai dare come therin ;
itt is all of the fFaierye
wrought by Nigromancye,

that wonder it is to winne.
there they keepe in prison
my Ladye of Sinadowne,

that is of 'Knights kinn.^

have made a
curious
palace that
no one dare
enter,

as it's
wrought by

necromancy;
and there
they keep the
Lady of
Sinadowne,

"oftentimes wee her crye ;
1 820 ffor to see ^ her wtth eye,

therto we haue no might,
this Mabam & Iron trulye
had sworene to death trulye
1824 her death fibr to dight,
but if shee grant vntill
ffor to do Mabams will,
& giue him all her right
1828 of aU that Dukedome fiayre,
therof is my ladye heyre
that is soe much of might.

" shee is soe meeke & soe ffaire ;
1832 therforc wee be in dispayre

and will put
her to death,

unless she

gives up her
dukedom to
Mabam.

' Syr Maboune.— C.

■syr Irayn hys hroi>er.
-Lam.
3 Clarkes.— P.

■• Curious contrivance. — P.
-C. Irayne. ^ The n is made over an e, or vice

versa, in the MS. — F.

^ A w follows and is crossed out. — F.

482

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Lybius says
that by
Jesus's help

he'll cut ofE
the heads of
Mabam and
Iron,

and restore
the lady to
her rights.

Then they
sup ;

and many
come to

hear about
Lybius,

and listen to
him.

flfor the dolour that shees in."
then sayd Siv Lybius,
" through the helpe of lesus
1836 that Ladye I will winne ;
& Mabam & Iron,
smite of there anon

tlieire heads in thai stoure,
1840 & wine that Lady bright,
& bring her to her right

with ioy & much honor." '

then there was no more tales to tell
1844 in that strong Castle.

to supp & make good cheere,^
the Barrons & Burgesse all
came to that seemlye hall
1848 ffor to listen & heare

how S^"r Lybius had wrought;
& if the K.ni(jht were ought,
his talking for to harke.^
1852 they ffound them sitting in ffere
talking, att their supper,

of 'Knights stout and starke.

' C. omits the next twelve lines, (and
alters many before). — F.
- Tlio was no more tale

I the Castell grete and smale,
But stouped and made hym blytlie.
-Lam.
' His crafte for to kj1;he. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

483

[The Eighth Part.]

[Of Lybius's Adventures in Smadowne, and how he conquers the Lady's Enchanters.]

1856

1860

8<1 parte

1864

& after they went to rest,
& tooke their likeing i as them list ^
in that Castell all night.
On the morrow anon-right
Sir L^bius was armed bright ;
fFresh he was to flight.
! Sir Lamberd led him algate ^
right vnto the Castle gate ;

open they were fFull right ;
no man durst him neere bringe
fforsooth, with-out Leasing,
Barron, Burgess, ne K.night,

All go to bed.

Next
morning

Lamberd
takes
Lybius to
the castle
gates,

but no man
dai-es go in
with him.

1868

1872

1876

But turned home againe.
S('r Gefflet his owne swaine"*

wold w^'th him ryde,
but Sir Lybius ffor certaine
Sayd he shold backe againe, ^

and att home abyde.
Sir Gefflett againe gan ryde ^
with Sir Lamberd fFor to abyde ;

& to lesu Christ they ^ cryed,
fFor to send them tydings gladd
of them that long had

destroyed their welthes wyde.

His squire
wants to,

but Lybius
forbids liun.

[page 342]

All pray for
the sorcerers'
deaths.

' Only half the n in the MS.— F.

- t'O toke i>eye hare reste,
In lykynge as hem leste. — C.
Tho toke they ease and Keste,
And lykynges of the beste. — Lam.

3 at all events, by all means.— P.

The French makes Lanpars describe

to Lybius what he will see, and what
he is to do, in .la Cite Gaste, (p. 98-
100).— F.

* youth, servant. Jun. — P.

^ The Cotton text makes Gefflett stop
at tlie castle, 1. 1754. — F.

" so. the People. — P.

484

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Lybius rides
into the

sees horns,
hears music,
and sees
a bright fire.

Lybius rides
fartlier in,

880

1884

1888

S/r Lybius, K.night curteons,
rode into that proud joalace/

& att the hall he light.
trumjDetts, homes, & shaumes ^ ywis
he ffound beffore the hye dese,^

he heard, & saw wi'th sight.
a fFayre fFyer there was stout & stowre
in the midds of the flore,

brening ffaire and bright.'*
then ffurther in hee yeed,
& tooke wi'th him his steede

thai helped him to flight.

and can see

nothing

but minstrels

with their
harps, &c.,
all playing.

1892

1896

1900

ffurthermore he began to passe,
& beheld then euerye place

all about the hall ;
of nothing, more ne lesse,
he saw no body that there was,

but minstrells cladde in pall,
with harpe, ffidle & note,^
& alsoe With Organ note, —

great mirth they made all, —
& alsoe fiddle and sautrye ^ ;
soe much of minstrelsye

ne say ^ he neuer in hall.

and a torch
before every
man.

Lybius

can't find
any one to
fight,

1904

1908

before euery man stood
a torch ffayre and good,

brening ffuU bright.
Sir Lybius Euermore yode ^
ffor to witt ^ with Egar mood

who shold with him ffight.

' The French text describes the
palace, p. 101. — F.

^ shaumes, a Psaltery ; a Musical In-
strumcj^t like a Harp. Chau. Gl. — P.

3 Dese, Deis. The high table.— P.

* Was ly3t & brende bry3t. — C.

That tente and brende bright. — Lam.
^ rote. — C. lute and roote. — Lam.
" a Psaltery, vid. Supra. — P.
' saw. — P.
* went. — P.
» know.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

485

1912

liee went into all tlie corners,
& beheld the pillars

thai seemelye ^ were to sight ;
of lasper ffine & Cristall,
all was fflourished in the hall ;

itt was fFull ffaire & brig-ht.

but only sees

jasper

pillars,

the dores were all of brasse,
1916 & the windowes of ffaire glasse,
thai jmagyrje itt was driue.
the hall well painted was ;
noe ffairer in noe place ;
1920 maruelous ffor to descriue.
hee sett him on the hye dese :
then the minstrells were in peace
thai made the mirth soe gay,
1924 the torches thai were soe bright
were quenched anon-right,

& the minstrells were all away

the dores & the windowes all,
1 928 the bett ^ together in the hall

as it were strokes of thnnder ;
the stones in the Castle wall
about hira downe gan ffall ; —
1932 thereof he had great wonder ; —
the earth began to quake,
& the dese ffor to shake

thai was him there vnnder ^ ;
1936 the hall began for to breake,
& soe did the wall eke,

as they shold ffall assunder.

brass doors,

in the

decorated

hall.

Ho sits on
the dais,
and at once
the music
stops,

the torches
go out.

the

minstrels

vanish.

the doors
and windows
clash
together,

all the stones
of the wall
fall down,

the earth
quakes.

the liall and
walls begin
to crack.

as he sate thus dismayd,
1940 he held himselfe betrayd.

' In line 1910 in the MS.— F.

They beat. -P.

'■' there undo:'. — 1'

486

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Then he
hears horses
neigh. He
says there's
some one to
fight,
and sees

two men of
arms

well arrayed.

One rides
into the
hall,
and tells
Lybius he
must fight
them.

Lybins

is quite
willing.

mounts,

1944

1948

1952

1956

1960

1964

1968

then horses heard hee nay :
to himselfe then he sayd,
" now I am the better apayd,

for yett I hope to play."
hee looked fFoi-th into the ffeild,
saAV there with, speare and sheild '

men of armes tway,^
in pnrple & pale armonre
well harnished in thai stoure,

wi'th great garlands gay.

The one came ryding into the hall,
& to him thus gan call,

" Sir 'Knight adnenturous !
such a case there is befall ;
tho thou bee proude in pall,

ffight thou must with vs.
I hold thee quent of ginne ^
if thou my Ladye winne ^

thai is in prison."
Sir Lybius sayd anon-right,
"all ffresh I am ffor to ffight,

With the helpe of goddes sonne."

Sir Lybyus with good hart
IFast into the saddle he start ;

in his hand a speare he hent,
& ffeircly he rode him till,
his enemyes ffor to spill ;

ffor that was his entent.

[page 343]

' There is a stroke between the e and
i in the MS.— F.

^ The French postpones the darkness,
&c., and makes Lybius first see and fight
a single knight (p. 103, Eurains lifiers,
p. 119), and put him to flight; then fight
another (Mahons, p. 1 19), on a horse with
a horn in his forehead, and fire shooting
out of his nostrils, (p. 105-8). Then
comes the darkness, and a horrible noise :

Lybius thinks of La Damoisellc mix
blanccs mains, and commends himself
to God; the Wivre (Lat. vipera) appears,
comes near him, and kisses him; he is
stupefied ; a voice tells him who he is ;
he dreams ; and on waking sees the
lovely Esmeree, who tells him her story.
— F.

^ clever of contrivance.— P.

^ wime MS.— F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

487

but when tliey had together mett,
either on others helme sett

with speares doughtye dent.
1972 Mabam his speare all to-brast ;
then was Mabam euill agast,

& held him shameffully shent.

& with, that stroke ffelowne *
1976 Sir Lybius bare him downe
ouer his horsse tayle ;
flfor Mabams saddle arsowne
brake there- with, & fell downe
1980 into the fFeild without fiayle.
well nye he had him slone ;
but then came ryding Iron

In a good hawberke of mayle ;
1984 all ffresh he was to f&ght,

& thought he wold anon-right
Sir Lybius assayle.

Sir Lybius was of him ware,
& speare vnto him bare,

& left his brother still,
such a stroke he gaue hime thore
that his hawberke all to-tore ;

that liked him fFull ill.
their speares brake in 2 ;
swords gan they draw the

with hart grim and grill,^
199G & stiffly e gan to other ffight ;

either on Other proued their might,

eche other flPor to spill.

then together gan they hew.
2000 Mabam, the more shrew,^

1988

1992

and charges.

Mabam
shivers his
spear,

and is cut
over his
horse's tail
by Lybius,

and nearly
killed,
but that
Iron attacks
Lybius,

who rides at
him.

and rends
his hauberk.

They draw
their swords,

and hew at
one another.

felou stroke, i.e. a murderous stroke.

—P.

- idem ac grisly. Gl. ad Ch. — P.

^ shrew, apud Chancer est, a VUlainc;
here it seems to signify shrewd, cunuiug,
artful.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Mabam
gets up,

and attacks
Lybius too,

but he
defends
himself like
a man.

Mabara (t.i.
Iron)

chops off
Lybius's
steed's neck.

Lybius cuts
Iron's thigh
in two,

dismounts.

and fights
Mabam.

The sparks

fly.

vp he rose againe ;
he heard & alsoe knew
Iron gaue strokes ffew ;
2004 therof he was not ffaine ;

but to him he went fFuU right
ffor to helpe Iron to ffight,
& auenge him on his enemye.
2008 tho he were neuer soe wroth,

S^r Lybius fought against them both
and kept himselfe manlye.

when Mabam saw Iron,'
2012 he ffought as a Lyon

the hnight to slay w/th wreake.
beffore his ffardar arsowne
soone he earned then downe
2016 Sir Lybius steeds necke.

Sir Lybius was a worthy warryour,
& smote a 2 his thye ^ in that stoure,
skine,^ bone, and blood.
2020 then helped him not his clergye,
neither his ffalse Sorcerye,*

but downe he ffell with sorry moode.

Sir Lybius of his horsse alight,
2024 with Mabam fibr to ffight.
in the ffeild both in ffere

strong stroakes they gaue with might,

that sprakeles ^ sprang out ffull bright
2028 ifrom helme and harnesse cleere.

as either ffast on other bett,^

both their swords mett.

' Yrayn saw Mabonn. — Cot. Lam.

2 There is the long part of another h
in the MS.— F.

3 ? skime in the MS.— P.

* \>o halp hym no3t hys armys,
Hys chaiuiteniewt, ne hys charmys.
—Cot.

Ne halpe hym not his Armour,
His chaunteme?«ts, ne his chambur.
-Lam.

5 ? MS. spaakeles.— P.
" did beat.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

489

As yee may now lieare. tP'^s" ^■^■^'i

2032 Mabam, that was the more shrew,
the sword of Sir Lybius he did hew
in 2 quite and cleare.

then Sir Lybius was ashamed,
2036 & in his hart euis ^ agramed ^
ffor he had Lost his sword,
& his steed was lamed,
& he shold be defamed
2040 to 'Kiiuj Arthur his lord,
to Iron lithelye ^ he ran,
& hent vp his sword then

that sharpe edge '^ had & hard,
2044 & ran to Mabam right

& ffast on him gan ffight,
& like a madman he ffared.

Mabam
cuts Lybius's
sword in
two.

Lybius
gets angry,

catches up
Iron's sword,

runs to
Mabam

but euer then ffought Mabam,
2048 as he had beene a wyld man,
Sir Lybius ffor to sloe.
but Sir Lybius earned downe
his sheild w('th that ffawchowne
2052 that he tooke Iron ffroe :
true tale ffor to be told,^
the left hand with the sheild
away he smote thoe.
2056 then sayd Mabam him till

" S«r ! thy stroakes beene ill !
gentle Knight, now hoe,*'

" & I will yeeld me to thee
2060 in lone and in Loyal tye

and cuts off
his shield

and left
hand.

Mabam

offers to

surrender

himself,

1 for euir, or evil. — P. sore. — L;im.
Cot. omits it. — F.

2 agramed, displeased, grieved. Gl.
ad Chaue. rather {arjramecV) angered.
A.-S. Gram. Furor. Lye. — P.

VOL, IL K K

^ litliely, gently, (nimbly). — P.
•* The d has two bottoms in the MS.,
or the word is cidgc. — F.
^ teld, rhythmi gratia. — P.
" i. e. now stop. — P.

490

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

and to give
up the Lady
of Sina-
downe,

for Iron's

sword was
poisoned,
and will iiill
him.

2064

2068

att tliine owne will,
& alsoe that Lady iFree
that is in my posstee,^

take her I will tliee till ;
ffror tlirougli that sli[r]iieed dint
my hand I haue tint ^ ;

the veinim will me spill ;
fForsooth without othe
I venomed them both,

our enemy es ffor to kill."

Lybius
refuses.

calls on him
to fight
again,

2072

2076

2080

splits his
head in two.

S/r Lybins sayd, "by my thrifft
I will not haue of thy gift

ffor all this world to w[i]nn !
therfore lay on stroakes swythe !
the one shall cut the other blythe

the head of by the Chin 3 ! "
then Sir Lybius and Mabam
flPought together ffast then,

& lett flfor nothing againe ;
that Sir Lybius that good K-night
earned his helme downe right,

& his head in twayne.''

' poste, apud Cliauc. est Power. Vid.
Gl.— P.
- lost.— P.
* One stroke too many in the MS. — F.

* The French adds (p. 108):
Del cors li saut i fiimiere,
Qui molt estoit hideuse et fiere,
Qui li issoit parmi la boce, &c. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

491

[The Ninth Part.]

[How Lybius disenchants and weds the Lady of Sinadowue.]

2084

2088

2092

JSTow is Mabam slaine ;
& to Irom lie went againe,

With sword drawne to ffiglit ;
ffor to liaue Cloiien liis braine,
9'1 Parte <( I tell you ffor certaine

lie went to him ffull right ;
but when lie came there, ^
away he was bore,

into what place he nist.^
he sought him ffor the nones ^
wyde in many woones * ;
to ffig-ht more him List.

Lybius goes
to kill Iron,

but he has
vanished,

and can't be
found.

2096

2100

as he stood, & him bethought ^
that itt wold be deere bought

that he was ffrom him fare,
ffor he wold w^'th sorcerye
doe much tormenrtye,

& thai was much care,
he tooke his sword hastilye,
& rode vpon a liill hye.

Lybius

may give
him trouble.

Lybius

> thore.— P.

2 MS. list. ? nist, knew not.— F.
nyste. — Cot. nuste. — Lam.

3 the nones, or nonce, on purpose ; de
industria. Jun. purposely. — P.

' iixme, a house, habitation.- — P.

^ Neither the French, nor Cot., nor
Lam., has the seeing and slaying of the
knight wliieh follows here. Cot. reads :

And whawne he ne fond hym no3t.

He held hymself be-cau3t.
And gan to syke sarc,

And seydc yn word and )'0U3t,

" Jjys wyll be sore a-boiijt

Jpflt he ys th?fs fram me y-fare."
^ On kne hym sette >«t gentyllc kny3t,
And prflyde to marie bry3t, ^
Keuere hym of hys care.
For the last three lines, Lam. substi-
tutes :

" He will with sorcerj'e
Do me tormentrye

That is my mosto care."
Sore he sat and sighte ;
He muste whatc do her myght ;
He was of blysso all bare.
(1. 2122-7 here).— F.

492

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

sees a

knight in a
valley,

& looked round about.
2104 then lie was ware of [a] valley ;
thitherward he tooke the way
as a sterne K.7iight and stout.

rides to him,
and cuts his
head off,

then comes
back.

and goes to
the hall

to look for
the Lady of
Sinadowne.

He mourns,
because he
can't find
her.

2108

2112

as he rode by a riuer side
he was ware of him thai tyde

Tpon the riuer brimm :
He rode to him ffull hott,
& of his head he smote,

ffast by the Chinn ;
& when he had him slaine,
ffast hee tooke the way againe

for to haue that lady gent.
2116 as soone as he did thither come,
of his horsse he light downe,

and into the hall hee went

2120

2124

[page 345]

& sought thai ladye ffaire and hend,
but he cold her not find ;

therfor he sighed ffull sore.'
still he sate moumi[n]g
ffor thai Ladye ffaire & young;

for her was all his care ;
he ne wist what he doe might ;
but still he sate, & sore he sight,

of loy hee was ffull bare.

A window
opens,

2128 but as he sate in thai hall,

he heard a window in the wall,

ffaire itt gan vnheld ; —
great [wonder ^ ] there with-all
2132 in his hart gan ffall ; —
as he sate & beheld,

' sair. Scotice. — P. * fear or dread. — P. wonder. — Cot. wondyr. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

493

a woi'ine ' out gan pace
With a womans fiaco
2136 that was younge & nothiBg old.

the wormes tayle ^ & her winges
shone fFayre in all thinges,
& gay fFor to beholde.

and out

creeps a

worm (or

serpent)

with a

young

woman's

face,

shining

wings,

2140 grisly e great was her taile,

the clawes large w/thout ffayle ;

Lothelye ^ was her bodye.
Sir Lybius swett for heate,
2144 there sate in his seate

as all had beene a ffire him by.*
then was Sir Lybius euill agast,
& thought his body wold brast.
2148 then shee neighed him nere ;

& or S/r Lybius itt wist,
the worme w/th mouth him Kist,
& colled about his lyre.^

2152 & after thai kissing,

the wormes tayle & her wing

big claws
and tail,

and a loathly
body.

It comes to
Lybius,

kisses him
on the
mouth,

its tail and
wings fall
off,

' Fr. vdvre. Phillips gives " Wyver,
the Name of a Creature little known
otherwise than as it is painted in Coats
of Arms and described by Heralds : "Tis
represented by Gwillim as a kind of
flying Serpent, and so may be deriv'd
from Vipera, as it were a winged Viper
or Serpent ; but others will have it to be
a sort of Ferret call'd Vh'crra in Latin."
De Biauju's description of it may be
compared with the English :

A tant vit i aumaire ouvrir

Et una WiVRE fors issir,

Qui jetoit une tel clart^

Com i cierge bien enbrase.

Tot le palais enluminoit,

Une si grant clarte jetoit.

Hom ne vit onqites sa parelle.

Que la bouce ot tot vermelle ;

Parmi jetoit le feu ardent ;

Moult par estoit hideus ot grant ;

Parmi le pis plus grosse estoit
Que i vaissaus d'un mui ne soit ;
Les iols avoit gros et luisans,
Comme ii escarbocles grans;
Contreval I'aumaire descent,
Et vint parmi le pavement.
Quatre toises de lone duroit,
En la queue iii neus avoit.
C'onques nus hom ne \'it grcignor,
Ains Dius ne fist cele color,
Qu'en li ne soit entremellee,
Dessous sambloit estre doree.
(pp. 110-11).— F.

2 Hyre body. — Cot. Lam.

^ i.e. loathsome. — P.

* Maad as he were.— C.

As alle had ben in fyre. — Lam.

* apud Scot, flesh. Apud Chauc. /ere is
the Complexion or Air of the face. — P.
Swj-re. — Cot. Lam. Coll is to embrace ;
Fr. colUe, an imbracing about the necke.
Cotgrave.

494

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

anfl a lovely
woman

Btands

naked before
him.

She tells
him

ho has slain

two

sorcerers,

who turned
her into a
serpent

till she
should kiss
Gawaine
or one of
his kin.

ffell away her firoe ;
she was ffaire in all thing,
2156 a woman without Leasing ;

fairer he saw neuer or thoe.*
shee stood vpp al soe ^ naked
as christ had her shaped.
2160 then was Sir Lybius woe.

shee sayd, " god that on the rood gan bleed,
Sir 'Knight, quitt thee thy meede,

ffor thou my ffone wold sloe.^

2164 " thou hast slaine now ffull right
2 clarkes wicked of might

that wrought by the ffeende.
East, west, north and south,
2168 they were m.asters of their mouth ; "*
many a man they haue shend.
through their inchantment,
to a worme the had me meant, ^
2172 ne woe to wrapp me in

till I had k[i]ssed S/r Gawaine
that is a noble 'Knight certaine,
or some man of his kinn.

* De Biauju sends her back into lier
cupboard after the kiss, stupefies Lybius,
and reveals his name and parentage to
him, — Giglains, son of Gauvains (Ga-
waine), and^a/ee as Blances Mains, then
sends him to sleep, and on his waking
shows him the lady at her toilet (p. 115),
fairer than any one else in the world,
except she of the Blances Mains (who
excels Paris's Elaine, Isex la blonde,
Bliblis, Lavine de Lombardie, and Morge
la fee, (p. 152). This all takes place in
L'llle de la Monthestee (p. 116); and
the lady declares herself as the daughter
of le hon roi Gringars. She narrates
how Mabons and Eurains enchanted the
6000 inhabitants and made them destroy
the city, and then tiu^ned her into a
worm. Of the town she says :
. . caste ville par droit non
Est appelee Senaudou ;

Por ce que Mabons I'a gast^e,
Est Gastecites apelee. (p. 120.)
But as the story has been sketched in
the Introduction, I only note here that
the lady's name, Blonde Esmeree, is
not given till p. 130, when she is starting
for Arthur's court. — F.
2 MS. alsoe.— F.
^ God yelde J?e dy whyle,
i>at my fon \>o\x woldest slo. — Cot.
God yelde the thi wille,
My foon thou woldest sloo. — Lam,
'* Be wordes of hare mouthe. — Got.

With maystres of her moxithe. — Lam.
* this word signifies mingled, mixed,
ap? G. Doug. Chauc. &c. — P.
To warme me hadde J^ey y-went
In wo to welde and wend. — Cot.
To a worme they had me went.
In wo to leven and lende. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

495

2176

2180

ffor * thoti liast saued my liffe,
Castles 50 and ^ ffiue

take to thee I will,
& my selfe to be tliy wilFe
riglit wi^tliout striiFe,

if itt be your will." ^

then was he glad & blythe,
& thanked god often sythe *
2184 That him tJiat grace had sent, [page 346]
& sayd, " my LorcZ ^ faire & ffree,
all my lone I leaue with thee,
by god omnipotent !
2188 I will goe, my haclye bright,
to the castle gate flPull right,

thither ffor to wend
ffor to feitch jour geere
2192 that yee were wont to weare,
& them I will you send.

She promises
Lybiiis
fifty-five
castles

and herself
as his wife.

Lvbius is
blithe,

and proposes
to fetch the
lady's

clothes from
the castle.

" alsoe, if itt be yo^^r will,
I pray you to abyde still
2196 till I come ^ againe."

" Sir," shee said, " I you praj
wend fforth on your way,^
therof I am ffaine."

if she will
stay till he
comes back.

2200 Sir Lybius to the castle rode,
there the people him abode ;

Lybius rides
to the castle

' because.— P. ^ ]yjs_ amd.— F.

^ 3yf hyt ys artours wylle. — Cot.

■ And hit be Arthures will. — Lam.

* Time — also, since, afterwards. Gl.
Chauc. — P. Cot. has for this and the
next sixteen lines:

And lepte to horse swj-Jje,
And lefte l>«t lady stylle.

But euer he dradde yruyn.

For he was no3t y-slayn,

With speche he wolde hjm spylle.

Lam. has nearly the same words, but
omits the last line but one. — ^F.

^ Ladye.— P.

« cone in MS.— F.

' " I you pray " the writer of the MS.
was going to repeat, and got as far as
p : then he stopt, put in on after /,
added r to 7/0", and wat/ to the ]), so
that the words are " I on your pway."
— F.

496

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

and tells the
people that
Mabam and
Iron are
slain.

to lesii clir[i]st gan tliey crjc
ffor to send them ty dings glad
2204 of them thai Long had

done them tormentrye,
S;"r Lybius is to the Castle come,
& to Sir Lamberd he told anon,
2208 and alsoe the Barronye,*
how S/r Mabam was slaine
& Si'r Iron, both twayine,
by the helpe of mild Marye.

He sends a
rich robe

2212

2216

when tliai 'K.nigJit soe keene
had told how itt had beene

to them all by-deene,
a rich robe good & ffine,
well fFurred wi'th good Ermine,

he sent that Ladye sheene ;

and garlands
to the lady,

and all the
people of
Sinadowne
go and
fetch her
home.

They crown
her,

Kerchers and garlands rich
he sent to her priuiliche,^
2220 tliat mayd ho wold home bring. ^
& when shee was readye diglit,
thither they went anon-right,
both old and young,

2224 & all the ffolke of Sinadowne
with a ffaire procession.

the Ladye home they ffett,
& when they were come to towne,
2228 of precyons gold a rich crowne
there on her head the sett.

and thank
God.

they were glad and blythe,
& thanked god often sithe

' i. e. The Barrens collectively.— P.
^ i.e. privily. — P.

^ A-non vritA-out dwellynge. — Cot.
A byrd hit ganne hir brings. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

497

2232 thai ffrom woe them had brought,
all the LorcZs of dignity e
did him homage and ffealtye,
as of right they ought.

2236

2240

they dwelled 7 dayes in the tower
there S(*r Lamberd was gouernor,

with mirth, loy, and game ;
& then they rode wi;th honor
vnto King Arthur,

the Knights all in-same.

Lybius ami
the lady stay
seven days
there,
and then
ride off to
Arthur.

' It is SO very wrong of the copier or translator to have broken off the story
without giving the wedding between Lybius and his love, that I add it here from tlie
three unprinted MSS. as well as the Cotton one. The Lincoln's Inn and Ashmolo
MSS. have more stanzas than the Cotton and Lambeth ones.

Lincoln's Inn MS. Hale, No. 150, art. /.,
lai^i leaf.

hay Jjonkj-d god almy3t,
Bojje Arthour and his kny3t,

jiat heo [ne] liadde* schame,
Arthour 3af as blyue
Libeus j^at may to wyue

l^at was so gent a dame.

Yeo murthe of j^eo brydale,
Nomon con wif? tale

Telle hit in no geste.
In Jjat semly sale
Weore lordes monye and fale,

And ladyes wel honeste.
\>ev was ryche seruyse
Jio\>6 to fool and wyse,

To leste and to meste.
Jjer wan j^ay yche jifthes, [back of loaf]
vche mynstral a ry3htis,

And so??ime jjat weore vnprost.

Sir Gawayn, kny3t of renoun,
saide to ]peo lady of synaydoun,

" Madame, treouely,
he J>at weddid |-e wif? pruyde,
y gat him by a forest syde

On a gentil lady."

Ashmole MS. 61, leaf o8b.
They thankyd god of his my3ht<'s,
Ivynge Ai'thoK?- And hys kny3htes,

That sche had no schame.
Arthoz^r 3ane be-lytie [leaf 59]

Syre lybeus ]i>at mey to wj-ue,

That was so jent;"ll A dame.

The my[r]the of ]>at brydall
May no man tell with tale

Ne sey in no geste :
Yn J'flt sembly sale
Where brydfs grete and smale,

And lad( s full honeste ;
There was many A mane,
And seruj's gode wone

Both to most and leste.
Fore soth j^e mynstralle s Alle
That [were] wit/^-in )?«t halle

And t 3yftes of l>e beste.

Syre lybeus moder so fre
Come to i>at mangerre ;

Hyre rudd was rede as ryse ;
Sche knew lybeus wele be s3-3ht,
And wyst wele A-none ry3ht

That he was of mych pryse.

Sche went to ser gawene.
And seyd, " wit/«-outen leyne

* Ans, blotted, stands here in the MS.— F.

t had.— F.

498

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

{Lincoln's Inn MS. continued.)

Jeanne \ at lady blyj^e was,
And fill ofte kyssed his fas,

And liaylsel \_sic'\ hym sykyi'ly.
Sir Libeus J^an wold kyj^e :
he wente to his fader swyj^e,

And kyssed him tymes monye.

he kneoled in j^at stoundc,

And saide, kneoland on gronnde,

" for godis loue al weldaud,
t^at made Jjeo world so round,
fayre fadir, or y foude,

blesse me wij> Jjyn liond."
l^at hynde kny3t Gawayn
blessyd j^eo child wij? mayn,

And made him seoj'f'e vp stande.
he comaundyd kny3t and sweyn
To clepe Libeus " Gengelayne,"

J'at was lord of lond.

fourty dayes ]>ay dwellyd.
And heore feste faire heold

wijj Arthoure ))eo kynge.
As ]>Q0 gest vs tolde,
Arthour wi|> knyjtis bolde

horn gonne l>ay bryngf.
twenty yere J>ay lyued in-same
-vn\> muche gleo and game,

he and j^at swete J'yuge.
Ihesu Cryst oure saneour.
And his modir t>at swete flour,

spede TS at our nede !

Explicit Lebiu;(s de-sconius [?MS.]

{Ashmole MS. continued.)

Thys is owrc chyld so fi-e."
Than was he glad and blyth,
And kyssed \\ym many A sythe.

And seyd, " \>at lykes me."

Syre gawen, knyjht of renowne,
Seyd to \>& lady of synadouH,

" Madame, treuly
He \>at hath be wedyd v/ith pride,
Y gate hym vnd[er] A forest syde

Off a gentyll lady."
Than b«t lady was blyth.
And thankyd hy??i many A syth.

And kyssed hywi sykerly.
Than lybeus to hym wan,
And \>er he kyssed )>ai man ;

Fore soth treuly

He fell on kneys \n );>at stoured,
lybeus knelyd on \>e grouwd.

And seyd, "fore god All weldinge
That made )>e werld rownd,
Feyre fadfr, wele be 36 fownd !

Blysse me witA ^our blyssynge ! "

That hend kny3ht gawene
Blyssed hys sons -with mayne,

And made hy/« vp to stond.
And comandyd kny3ht and sweyne
To calle hym gyngelyane.

That was lorde of lond.

Forty deys \>er they duellyd, [leaf 59&.]
And grete fest )pe\ held

'With Axthour ]>c kynge.
As }>e gest hath told,
Avihour with kny3htes bold

Home gane hym brynge.
X 3ere J^ei lyued in-same
With mekyll gle and game,

He atid tliat suete thynge.
Ihesu cryst owre snwyour,
And his moder \>at suete floure,

To heuene blys vs brywge !

Here endes Jpe lyfe —

y telle 30W with-outeti stryfe —

Oif gentyll libeus disconei^s.
Fore his saule now byd 30
A pater noster And An Aue,

Fore be loue off Ihesus,
That he of hys sawle haue pyte,
And off owrys, iff hys wyll be,

When we sehall wend ber-to.
And 3e b«t haue herd b«t talkynge,
3e sehall haue be blyssinge

Of Ihesu cryst All-so.

[Finis.']

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

499

Cotton, Calig. A. ii.fol. 57, col. 2.

And Jjonkede godes myjtes,
Artoure and hys kny3tes,

p«t he ne hadde no schame.
Artoure yaf here al so * blyue,
Lybeauus to be hys wyfe,

pat was so gentylle a dame.

pe loye of \>at bredale
Nys not told yn tale,

Ne rekened yn no gest.
Barons and lordynges fale
Come to t>at semyly sale,

And ladyes welle honeste.

per was ryche seruyse

Of alle \>at men koul> deuyse,

To lest & ek to mest.
pe menstrales yn bourf & hallo
Hadde ryche yftes w/t/i-alle,

And J^ey hat werjm vnwrest.

Fonrty dayes {^ey dwellede
And hare feste helde

W/t/i artoure J^e kyng.
As \>e frenssche tale teld,
Artoure v/ith kny3tes held

At horn gan hem brynge.

Fele 3ere J>ey leuede yn-same
W/t/« moche gle & game,

Lybeauus & \>at swete I'yng.
Ihe>su cryst oure sauyoure,
And hys moderc J>at swete floure,

Grauwte vs alle good endynge.

Amen.

Explicit libeaxius desconus.

Lambeth MS. 306, leaf 106.

They thanked god wit^ al his myghtis,
Arthur aud alle his knyghtis,

That he hade no shame.
Arthur gave als blyre
Lybeous that lady to wyfe,

That was so gentille a dame.

The myrro2<r of that brydale
No man myght telle with tale

In Ryme nor in geste.
In that semely Saale
Were lordys many and fale,

And ladies fulle honeste.

There was Eiche Sendee
Botlie to lorde and ladyes,

To leste and eke to moste.
Thare were gevyn riche giftis,
Euche mynstrale her thriftis.

And some that were vnbrest.

fifourty dayes thei dwelden.
And ther here feste helden

Wz't/i Arthur the kynge,
As the ffrensshe tale vs tolde.
Arthur kyng, with his knyghti's bolde,

Home he gonne hem brynge.

Sevyn yere they levid same
With mekylle loye and game,

He and that swete thynge.
Nowe Ihcsu Criste oure Savioure,
And his moder, that swete floure,

Grawnte vs gode Endynge ! Amen.

Explicit libious Disconyus.

* MS. also.

500

This piece has been already printed from the Folio, just as it is
by Jamieson in his Popular Ballads and Songs (1806).

The other versions of the old ballad are, Gil Morice given by
Percy in the Reliques from a printed edition current in Scot-
land, Child Noryce and Chield Morice given by Motherwell
from recitations, 3 stanzas of a traditional version given by
Jamieson. The number of these versions shows how popular the
ballad was. Another proof is its use by Langhorne, by Home, and
others, as the basis of longer, more pretentious works. Of the
said versions Gil Morice and Chield Morice closely resemble each
other, and are infinitely less forcible than the other two. They
are intolerably prolix. The fire is quenched with much water.
They are the offspring of men who possessed the faculty of Midas
with a difference — they turned everything they touched into
dross. The other two versions are admirably terse and vigorous,
and have a right to places in the first ranks of our ballad-poetry.
Undoubtedly the less corrupted is the Folio version ; but, un-
happily, it is somewhat imperfect.

This is indeed a noble specimen of our ballad-poetry in all its

strength. For the overpowering vigour of its objective style it

may be compared with Little Musgrave and Lady Bernard.

How vivid every picture it paints is ! how effective every stroke !

Not a word is wasted. The writer is too absorbed in the action

of his piece to indulge in any comments, or moralisings, or

superfluities of any sort.

Semper ad eventum festinat, et in madias res,
Non seciis ac notas, auditorem rapit.

vid. Scottish Edition which is evidently a modern Improvement. — P.

CHILDE MAURICE. 501

This abstinence from all reflections and sentimentalities is in-
describably impressive. The ballad-writer of later times is too
often like the guide who introduces the traveller to a tine
cathedral, and disturbs the glorious effect of the sight with his
intrusive conceited garrulity. This old writer presents us with
a wonderful spectacle without putting in ever a word of his own.
You forget the guide, and are given up wholly to the effect of
the spectacle. If we could never consider the heavens without
havinof suggested to us the names of the stars and their sizes and
distances from the earth ! This old writer is content to let his
tale produce its own effect. He conceives it in all its tremendous
force, too really to permit him to criticise or dally with it in
any way. Feeling much, he says little. Hence the intensity of
his narration.

What strange wild pictures he paints I The Child in the silver

wood,

sitting on a block
With a silver comb in his hand,
Kembing his yellow lock.

— the foot-page hasting on his errand with the presents of the
grass-green mantle and of the gold and precious stone rings —
the husband and his wife's son drying on the grass or a sleeve
their bright brown swords — the victor, his supposed rival's head

cut off, how he

pricked it on his sword's point,

Went singing there beside,
And lie rode till he came to the lady fair

Whereas this lady lied,
& says " Dost thou know Child Maurice head

If that thou dost it see ?
And lap it soft and kiss it oft,

For thou lovedst him better than me.

the mother recognising in her slain lover her one only son.

That terrible passage in the Bacchce of Euripides, where the
scales fall from Agave's eyes, naturally suggests itself as one
looks at that last picture; though there, indeed, the horror of

502

CHILDE MAURICE.

tlie situation is deepened by the fact that her own hands have
done the deed :

ea, Ti Kiv(T(Xo) ; rl (pfpo/Mat r65' eV x^/'O''' !

Then answers Cadmus :

&dpri(rov avrh Kol ffacpianpov jj-dde,
Ar, opoo /j.4yiffTov &\yos tj TaKakv iyib.

KA. p.o>v aoi \iovri (paiferai irpoanKevai ; •

Ar. oijK • aWa Vlfvdeus t] rd\aiv exw Koipa.

Child
Maurice,
while
hunting,

tells his
footpage

to go to John

Steward's

wife.

greet her as
many times
:is there are
knots on a
net,

and ask her

IjHILDE Maurice hunted ithe sikxen ' wood,

he hunted itt round about,
& noebodye that he ffound therin,
4 nor none there was wzth-out.

^ & he tooke his sihier combe in his hand,

to kenibe his yellow lockes ;
he sayes, " come hither, thou litle fFoot page,
8 that runneth ^ lowlye by my knee ;
ffor thou shalt goe to lohn stewards wiffe
& pray her speake w/th mee.

" & as itt ffalls out many times,
12 as knotts beene knitt on a kell,''

or Marchant men gone to Leeue London
either to buy ware or sell,

" I, and greete thou doe that Ladye well,
16 euer soe well ffroe mee, —

And as itt ffalles out many times [page 347]

as any hart can thinke,

1 The downstroke of the r of siluen is
made twice over. — F.

2 Prof. Child dots two lines as miss-
ing, before lines 5, lo, & 21, and after
line 64. Ballads ii. 313-16.— F.

3 MS. rumeth.— F.

* Kelle, reticulum, retiaculum (Catho-
licon). Beticula a lytell nette or kalle.
Reticinellum, a kalle (Ortus) . . . The
fashion of confining the hair in an orna-

mental network, which occasionally was
jewelled, seems to have obtained in
England from the time of Henry III.
until that of Elizabeth, and an endless
variety of examples are aiforded by
illuminated MSS. and monumental effi-
gies. It was termed cal/e or kelle, a
term directly taken, perhaps, from the
French cale, Latin calantica or callus.
"Way in Promptoriuni, p. 270, note '. — F.

CHILDE MAURICE.

503

" as sclioole masters are in any schoole house
20 writting with pen and linke, —
fFor if I might, as well as shee may,
this night I wold wi'th her speake.

" & heere I send her a mantle of greene,
24 as greene as any grasse,

& bidd her come to the sillier wood
to hunt w^th Child Maurice ;

" & there I send her a ring of gold,
28 a ring of precyous stone,

& bidd her come to the siluer wood ;
let flfor no kind of man."

one while this litle boy he yode,
32 another while he ran ;

yntill he came to lohn Stewards hall,
I- wis he neuer blan.

to come and
hunt with
him.

He sends her
a ring.

The footpage
goes to Jotua
Steward's
hall.

& of nurture the child had good ;
3G hee ran vp hall & bower ffree,
& when he came to this Lady ffaire,
sayes, " god you saue and see !

" I am come ffrom Ch[i]ld Maurice,
40 a message vnto thee ;

& Child Maurice, he greetcs you well,
& euer soe well ffrom mee.

" & as itt ffalls out oftentimes,
44 as knotts beene knitt on a kell,

or March ant men gone to leeue London,
either ffor to buy ware or sell,

" & as oftentimes he greetes you well
48 as any hart can thinke,

or schoolemas/ers in any schoole
wryting vflth. pen and inkc ;

and gives
the lady-

Child
Maurice's
message :

he greets
her as many
times as
there are
knots on
her cap,

504

CIIILDE MAURICE.

he sends her
a green
mantle

" & lieere lie sends a Mantle of grecne,
52 as greens as any grasse,

& lie bidds you come to the siluer wood,
to liunt With Child Maurice.

and a gold
ring,

and begs her
to come to
the wood to
him.

" & lieere he sends you a ring of gold,
56 a ring of the precyous stone,

he prayes you to come to the siluer wood,
let ffor no kind of man."

" now peace, now peace, thou litle ffootpage,
60 ffor Christes sake, I pray thee !

ffor if my lorcZ heare one of these words,
thou must be hanged hye ! "

John
Steward
overhears
this,

orders his
steed

and armour,

lohn steward stood vnder the Castle wall,
& he wrote the words euerye one,

& he called vnto his horskeeper,
" make ready e you my steede ! "

I, and soe hee did to his Chamberlaine,
" make readye then my weede ! "

rides to the
wood.

& he cast a lease ^ vpon his backe,

& he rode to the siluer wood ;
& there he sought all about,
72 about the siluer wood,

finds Child
Maurice,

and asks
what he
means.

& there he ffound him Child Maurice

sitting vpon a blocke,
with a siluer combe in his hand
76 kembing his yellow locke.

he sayes, " how now, how now. Child Maurice ?

alacke ! how may this bee ? "
but then stood vp him Child Maurice,
80 & sayd these words trulye :

' ? leash, thong, cord. See lees, lese in Halliwell. — F.

CHILDE MAURICE.

505

" I doe not know yowr Ladje," lie said,

*' if thai I doe her see."
" iFor tliou liast sent her loue tokens,
84 more now then 2 or 3 ;

" ffor thon hast sent her a Mantle of greene,

as greene as anj grasse,
& bade her come to the siluer woode
88 to hunt With Child Maurice ;

The Child
Bays he
doesn't know
John's wife.
"And yet
■you've sent
her love-
tokens,

a green
mantle,

" & thou [hast] sent her a ring of gold,

a ring of pi'ecyous stone,
& bade her come to the siluer wood,
92 let ffor noe kind of man.

" and by my ffaith, now, Child Maurice,

the tone of vs shall dye ! "
" N'ow be my troth," sayd Child Maurice,
96 " & thai shall not be I."

[page 348]

and a gold
ring,

and bade
her come to
the wood to
you I

One of us
shall die."

but hee pulled forth a bright browne ' sword

& dryed itt on the grasse,
& soe ffast he smote att lohn Steward,
100 I-wisse he neuer rest.

then hee pulled fforth his bright browne sword,

& dryed itt on his sleeue ;
& the ffirst good stroke lohn stewart stroke,
104 Child Maurice head he did cleeue ;

John draws
his sword,
splits the
Child's head,

& he pricked itt on his swords poynt,

went singing there beside,
& he rode till he came to thai Ladye ffaire

wheras this ladye Lyed ;

carries it on
his sword-
point to his
wife.

VOL. II.

' Only half the n in the MS.
L L

506

CHILDE MAURICE.

and tells her
to kiss it.

and sayes, "dost tlioii know Child Manrice licad

if thai thou dost itt see ?
& lapp itt soft, & kisse itt offt,
112 ffor thou louedst him better then mee."

She says
he has
killed her
oaly child.

John

Steward
reproaches
his men for
not staying
him in his
^^■rath ;

but when shee looked on Child Maurice head,

shea neuer spake words but 3,

" I neuer beare no Child but one,

116 & you haue slaine him trulye."

sayes, " wicked bo my merrymen all,

I gaue Meate, drinke, & Clothe !
but cold they not haue holden me
120 when I was in all thai wrath ?

"he has slain
.lis wife and
uer son.

124

" ffor I haue slaine one of the curteouse[s]t K.nighis

thai euer bestrode a steed !
soe haue I done one [of] the fairest Ladyes

thai euer ware womans w^eede ! "

fiiiis.

507

Here apparently one endeavours to reconcile an offended swain
to his offending mistress. He had begged a kiss, it would seem,
and been denied it ; had concluded that his Phillis cared nothing
for him. Deaf to all the pleas urged in her behalf, he rejoices
that he has escaped from her. We do not know any other copy
^f the song.

ShEPARDES hoe ! Shepards hoe !
harkes how Phillis ^ calles thee ! La : La : La :
Philis hoe : PhilHs hoe !
4 " shall I lose my Phillis ? noe, noe, noe ! "

" what ailes thee Shepard [that thou] looke soe sadd ? why are you

< sad?

where is thy louely lasse shold make thee gladd r "
" ay me ! my -mistress proues vntrue, "My love is

8 & my louely lasse hidds me adew ! "

" Shepards, fiye ! Sheperds, ffye !

doe not wrong thy lasse, & noe cause whye." Ko, sUeia

" Phillis noe, Phillis noe !
12 but if sliee jiroue light in loue, He let her goe."

thus wee poore mayds must beare the blame,

w/w'ch ^ inconstant men deserue the same.

if ought be ill, tis our amisse,
16 but a womans word is noe iudge in this.

" Come away ! Come away ! Comoand

look at her.

see ! the louely e lasse tripps ore the lay."

" lett her goe ! lett her goe ! « xot i let

20 neuer more shall my loue say mee noe.''

her go.

' The first I is much like an s in the tliose of the MS. Before the first La
MS. The colons in lines 2 and 3 are Percy inserts hoe. — F. - while. P.

L J. 2

508

PHILLTS HOE.

She

wouldn't
kiss me I"

" fFye sliepard ! thou thy loue dost wrong !
ffor maides, the dare not doe amidst a throng."
" O, beg I did but one pore kisse ;
but shee with coy disdaine said noe by lys. '"

Don't be
jealous,

" lelous loue, lelous loue,

herafter doth vnconstant proue."

" many ffind,^ many ffind

women & their words are like the winde.

men sweare the loue, & do protest ;

but when a woman sweares, shee doth but lest.

who Testes with loue, playes with a bayte

that doth wound the hart with slye deceipte."

love your
love again ;

women must
have their
way.

" Shepards swaine, Shepards swaine,

let thy lasse inioy thy loue againe !

Iff maids pray, if maids pray,

women in their wants will haue noe nay ;

thus women they must learne to wooe,

when men fforgetts what nature bidds them do."

" if women wooe, tis much abuse,

tlio cuningly they coyne^ a coy excuse."

"No, I'm not
such a fool.

We shep-
herds are as
coy as
kings."

" Haples shee, hapless shee
thai doth loue ^ soe base a swaine as thee !
"happye I, happye I :
44 that ffortune haue such ffolly for to flflye !
base minds to basenes still will filee,
but honor in an honored hart doth lye.
tho base, my mind true honor brings ;

ffins.

48 [w]ee shepards in our loues are as coy as Kings."

' noe Iwis. — P.

^ There is a t.-ig to tho d. — F.

' MS. coyme.— F.

■* Three strokes for the ?«. — F.

509

[In 3 Parts.— P.]

" Guy & PiiiLLis " is simply a resiome, with some slight additions
from other sources, of the old romance of Guy of Warwick ; " Guy
& Amaranth " and " Guy & Colbrand " are versions, one modern,
by Samuel Eowlands, the other much older, of scenes in that
romance.

The presence in the MS. Folio of three pieces dealing with
Sir Guy is a sign of the immense popularity he enjoyed, if any
sisfn were needed. But indeed there is no lack of evidence of
his warm acceptance with the Middle Ages as well in foi-eign
countries as in England. Certainly among the heroes of romance
he was one of the most popular. At home, Arthur, and Sir
Bevis, and he, surpassed all others in. the extent and endurance
of the admiration they attracted. There is nothing more touching
anywhere than the story of the last moments of Guy. Such was
its intrinsic interest, that it won the ear of the world solely on
the strength of it ; for the story seems never to have been worthily
told. Not one of the three poems treasured up in the Folio
is of any considerable literary value. Nor can higher praise be
bestowed on the old romance. " Guy of Warwick," says Ellis,
" is certainly one of the most ancient and popular, and no less
certainly one of the dullest and most tedious of our early
romances." Dull and tedious it emphatically is. This jewel
then has never yet been skilfully set. But its preciousness was
appreciated in spite of the rude craftsmen into whose hands it

' A curious old Song, but very incorrect.— P.

510 GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

had fallen. Its lustre glorified its clumsy encasements as the
beauty of the beggar-maid her unworthy dress.

As shines the moon in cloudy skies
She in her poor attire was seen.

The oldest form in which we have the story is that of an Anglo-
Norman romance, Romanz de Gui de Warwyk, extant, as Ritson
informs us, in the library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge
(1. 6), and in the University Library (More 690), Harl. MSS.
No. 3775, King's MSS. 8 F. ix. There are two fragments of it
in the Bodleian (printed in the British Bibliographer, iii. 268 ;
see Introduction to the Abbotsford Club edition of the copy of
the English romance in the Auchinleck MS.). Other fragments
were found in the cover of an old book by Sir Thomas Phillips.
There is also a copy in the Bibl. Imperiale (MSS. de Colbert,
4289), Paris. There was a copy at Bruges in 1467, at Brussels
in 1487, as we learn from Barrels' account of the Librairies du
Fils du Roi Jean Charles V., &c. (See Guy de Warwick,
Abbotsford Club, Introduction.) This French work was com-
posed probably in the thirteenth century. Its composer may
possibly have been Walter of Exeter, as is stated by Carew in his
Survey of Coriwxdl. Whoever composed it, and wherever, it
was done into English early in the fourteenth century, which
English version is mentioned in the Prologue to Hampole's
Speculum Vitce, or Mirrour of Life, written about 1350, amongst
the popularities of the day :

I warne you firste at the begynnyngo

That I will make no vayne carpj'nge

Of dedes of armes, ne of amours,

As does mjmstellis & gestours,

That maketh earpynge in many a place

Of Octarione & Isenbrace,

And of many other gestes

And namely when they come to festes,

Ne of the lyf of Bevis of Hamptoune

That was a knyght of grete renoune,

Ne of Syr Gye of Warwyke. (ajmd Warton, II. Eng. P.)

GDY AND COLEBRANDE. 511

and by Chancer in the Rime of Sir Topas (about 1380) as one of
the romances of price of his day. Of it the oldest copy extant is
preserved in the Auchinleck MS. There are others in Caius
College and the Public Libraries, Cambridge. It was still in
demand in the sixteenth century, and was then printed by
Copland, and by Cawood. The romance was then condensed, as
was the custom, into a ballad. In 159^ Kichard Jones has
entered on the Eegister of the Stationers' Company " A pleasante
songe of the valiant actes of Gruy of Warwicke to the tune of Was
ever man so tost in love.'''' This is the " Gruy & Phillis " of the
present volume. The common title, says Percy, is " A pleasant
song of the valiant deeds of chivalry atchieved by that noble
knight Sir Guy of Warwick, who for the love of fair Phelis became
a hermit & dyed in a cave of craggy rocke, a mile distant from
Warwick." Of this ballad there are copies in the Bagford, the
Pepys, and the Koxburghe Collections. The legend was after-
wards rendered into prose, and in that shape printed again and
again down to very recent times. In the British Museum Library
there is a copy of the 7th edition of a cheap printed prose version,
1733. Ellis speaks of this popular form as "to be found at
almost every stall in the metropolis." The Anglo-Norman ro-
mance was converted into prose in 1525.

But the story was not given up wholly to the romance-writers
and their followers. The oldest other recital of it now extant
may possibly be that ascribed to Grerard of Cornwall, printed by
Hearne in the Appendix to his edition of the Annates de Dun-
stable. This Historia Guidonis de Werwyke is preserved in
MS. 147, Magd. Coll. Oxford. "There is not however anything
else of Gerard's in the Magd. MS. (which the compiler has seen),
and the short piece which has been printed is written at the end
of Higden's Polychronicon, on the same page with it, and
preceding its copious index." (See Macrai/s Manual of British
Historians.) Of Gerard's date and life nothing whatever is

512 GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

known. " He is said to have written a book De Gestis Britonum,
and another De Gestis Regum West-SaJC07iU7n, which are referred
to three times by Th. Eudburn in his History of Winchester. Thin
also mentions him in his catalogue of historians in Holinshed,
p. 1590." This piece, whenever written and by whomsoever,
describes the famous fight with Colbrand much as the Folio MS.
version narrates it. An entry in the Eegistry of the priory at
Winchester, quoted by Warton in his History of English Poetry,
tells us that when Adam de Orleten, bishop of Winchester, visited
his cathedral priory of St. Swithin in that city, " Cantabat jocu-
lator quidam, nomine Herebertus, Canticmn Colbrondi, necnon
gestum Emme regine, a judicio ignis liberate in aula prioris."
The first certain historical mention of the great Saxon champion
is to be found, as Eitson points out, in the Eobert de Brunne's
translation with additions, made cwc. 1338, of Peter Langtoft's
Chronicle, written circ. 1308.

That was Guy of Warwik, as the boke sais,
There he slouh Colbrant with hache Daneis.

The story of Gruy's abnegation of his wife, and his lonely uncom-
forted end in the cell he had hewn for himself, is told in chapter
clxxii. of the Gesta Romanoruon, compiled in all probability
about the same time with Langtoft's Chronicle. This compilation,
made to serve mediaeval preachers for purposes of illustration,
naturally took that part of the story that exemplified their
favourite teachings. Towards the end of the same, the fourteenth
century, Henry Knighton, Canon of Leicester, in his Ghronicon
de Eventihus Anglice ah anno 950 ad 1395, recounted the old
tale at full length. He introduces it with a sort of apology.
" Set quia historia diet! Gruidonis," he writes, " cunctis seculis
laudabili memoria commendanda est, in presenti historia immiscere
curavi." Then he relates, with circumstances, how " Olavus rex
Dacias," " Golanus rex Norwegian," and " dux Neustrise," invaded
England and besieged King Athelstan for a space of two years

GUY AND COLEBRANDE. 513

in Winchester. They had enlisted in the service of their expe-
dition a vast Saracen, "de Africa quendam gigantem, Colebrandum
nomine, qui eo tempore fortissimus et elegantissimus reputabatur
in orbe," described subsequently as " diabolic* statura3," and by
Guy when he stands face to face with him as "non homo, iramo
potius spiritus diaboli in effigie hominis latens." Eventually a
truce, " treuga," was agreed to, and the determining of the war
by a single combat. But there seemed scant hope of finding a
match for Colebrand, who was of course put forward to maintain
the Scandinavian cause. Then follows, as in "Guy& Colbrand,"
an account of the vision that appeared to the perplexed King
Athelstan, and how, obeying it, and posting himself " ad altam
primam " at one of the city's gates, he saw amongst the entering
crowd " virum elegantem cursantem, de una sclauma alba vestitum,
et unum sertum de albis rosis in capite tectum, fustemque grandem
in manu ferentem ; set multum erat debilitatus et discoloratus
anxietateque minoratus, eo quod nudipes laboravit, barbamque
prolixam habuit." This wild woe-begone figure was Guy — Guy
in deep distress for his sins, and caring only to escape from hos-
pitalities to pray for indulgence and pardon. But he is moved
at last to vmdertake the combat with the giant. " Fecit se armari
de melioribus armaturis regis, et cinxit se gladio Constantini [the
sword of Constantino the Great and the spear of Charlemagne
were among the presents given to Athelstan by Hugh, Duke of
the Franks] lanceamque sancti JMauricii in mauu tulit." Then
the fight is described with extreme minuteness. Colbrand seems
overpowering till Guy cuts off his sword-arm ; " Quod Dani
videntes, multum ex hoc contabuerunt, et Deos suos in Colu-
brandi adjutorum cum ejulatu magno invocare coeperunt." And
then comes the final scene in the hero's life.

In 1410, as Dugdale (Baron, i. 243) relates on the authority
of Eous, to whom we shall come presently, Guy's fame was well
spread abroad at Jerusalem ; for the Soldan's lieutenant hearing

514 GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

that Lord Beauchamp, theu travelling- in the Holy Land, " was
descended from the famous Gruy of Warwick, whose story they
had in books of their own language, invited him to his palace ;
and royally feasting him presented him with three precious stones
of great value, besides divers cloaths of silk and gold given to his
servants." The history of Sir Guy, as Percy points out {Reliques,
vol. iii.), "is alluded to in the old Spanish romance, ' Tirante
el bianco ' which, it is believed, was written not long after the
year 1430." About the middle of the fifteenth century Rudburn,
who has been mentioned above in a quotation, a Benedictine
of Winchester, called Junior to distiifguish him from another
chronicler of the same name who died Bishop of St. David's in
1441, gives some account of the great combat. Leland in his
Collectanea, fol. 595, quotes "ex chronicis Thoraoe Eudbourne
monachi Wintonensis " this amongst other passages : " Tertio
Ethelstani anno, duellum inter Colbrondum Danum & Gruidonem
comitem de Warwik, extra borealem civitatis Wintouiensis pla-
gam, in loco qui modo Hidemede, olim Denmarsch appellatiis est,
prope monasterium de Hida. Insignum vero victorise servatur
sica prgedicti Colbronde gigantis, cumqua truncatum erat ; caput
ejus a Gruidone comite de Warwik in eccl. cathedrali Winton'te
usque in hodiernum diem.' Rudbourne describes the fight more
fully in his Historia Major Wintonensis (apud Wharton's Anglia
Sacra). There the "Rex Dacorum " is " Anelaf;" the scene of
the combat is Hyde Mede ; the " gigas " is " mirce longitudinis,
invisus, inhumanus ac non malse meditationis ignarus." Lydgate,
contemporary with Rudbourne, versified the above-mentioned His-
toria Guidonis de Werwyl-e just as Samuel Rowland, something
more than a century after him, retold the conflict of Guy with
Amaranth in the form given in this volume. Lydgate's work,
never yet printed, is preserved among the Bodleian MSS. and

' "This history remained in rude transept of the cathedral till within
painting against the walls of the north my memory." Warton, H. E. P.

GUY AND COLEBRANDE. 515

in Harl. MS. 7333 f. 35. b.' Eevised by one Lane, it was
licensed to be printed in 1617 (Harl. MSS. 5243)/ but the licence
seems never to have been acted upon. Later on, in the latter
half of the fifteenth century, John Eons, appointed priest, or one
of the two priests, at the chapel at Griiy's Cliff near Warwick
(erected, with a statue of Gruy, by Eichard Beauchamp in 1422),
" labored and finished " a " roll " (now in the Ashmolean Museum,
Oxford, numbered 839) contaiuing a biography of him in whose
honour he held his office, for whose soul he offered dail}'' prayers.
Dugdale pronounces him " a diligent searcher after antiquities,
and especially of this coimty," and one that "hath left behind
him divers U'otable things, industriously gathered from many
choice manuscripts, whereof he had perusal in sundry monastries
in England and Wales, which now, through the fatal subversion
of those houses, are for the most part perisht." Eous narrates as
sober facts the story of the romance :

Dame Felys, daughter and heireto Erie Rohand, for her beauty called
Felyle belle, or Felys the fayre by true enheritance, was countesse
of Warwyke, and lady and wyfe to tbe most victorionse Knight, Sir
Gnj, to wliome in his woinge tyme she made greate straungenes, and
caused him for her sake, to put himself in meny greate distresse, dangers
and peril] s ; but when they wer wedded and bn but a litle season
togither, be departed from her to her greate hevynes, and never was
conversaunt witbher after, to her vnderstandinge ; and all the while she
kept her cleane and trew lady and wyf to him, devout to godward, and
by way of Almes, greately helpinge them that wer in poore estate. Sir
Gy of Warwyke, flower and honor of Knighthode, sonne to Sir Scyward,
baron of Walingforde, and his lady and wyfe Dame Sabyn, a florentyne
in Italy of the noble bloode of the contrey, translate from Italy vnto
this lande, as Dame Genches, Saynt Martyns sister, borne in Grcko
lande, was maryed here, and had in this lande noble SajTict Patryke,
that converted Irelande to the Christian faythe. This worshipfull
Knio-ht Sir Gy, in his actes of warre ever consydered what parties had
wronge, and therto wold he draw, by which doinge his loos spred so

' See Appendix at the end of this Introduction.

516 GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

farre that lie was called the worthiest Knight lyvinge in his dayes.
Then his most speciall and chief Lady that he had sette his hart of
most, Dame Felys, applied to his will and was wedded to him. This
noble warryor Sir Gy, after his mariage consideringe [what] he had
don for a womans sake, thought to besset the other part of his lyf
for Goddes sake, departed from his lady in pilgrynieweede as hir
shcAvys, which rayment he kept to hia lyves ende, and did menyigreate
battells, of the which the last was the victory of Colbrond at
Winchester by the warninge of an angell. And from thence, vnknowen
savinge to the Kinge only, come to Warwyke, receyved as a pilgryme
of his owne lady, and by her leave at his abydinge at Gibclif, and his
livery by his page dayly sett at the Castell. And two dayes afore his
deathe, an angell enformed of his passage oute of this world, and of his
ladyes the day fourtnight after him. And at Gibclyf wer they bothe
buryed, for ther cowld no man fro thence Remofe him till his sworn
brother com, S"^" Tyrry, w^^ whome he was translate without lett. And
to this day God for her sake, to tho that devoutely seeke him for hur
sakes, with other Greuis as by miracle seen remedied. And in remem-
brance of his habit it wer full convenient yo8 y* it pleased som good
lord or lady to fjTide in the same place ij. poore men that cowde help
a priest to singe, one of theim to be ther continually present, wearinge
his pilgrim e habyte, and to shew folke the place ; and their habitacion
might be full well sett over his cave in the rocke.

The story of Sir Guy then had evidently long before Eons's
time found a local habitation, both at Warwick and at Winchester.
Leland, in his Itinerary, says of Gibclife or Guyeliffe : " Ould
Fame remaineth with the People there that Guido Earl of
Warvvike in King Athelston's Dayes . . . lived in this place like a
Heremite, unknowen to his wife Felice, untill at the Article of his
Death he shewed what he was. . . . Here is a house of Pleasure, a
Place meet for the Muses. There is sylence, a praty Wood, antra
in vivo saxo, the Eiver rowling over the stones with a praty
noyse, nemusculum ibidem opacum, fontes liquid! et genimei,
prata florida, antra muscosa, rivi leves et per saxa discursus,
necnon solitudo et quies multis amicissima." The heart of the
antiquary warms towards the lovely spot.

Such are the authorities, if the word may be used in this case,

GUY AXD COLEBRANDE. 517

for the legend. At any rate, tbey may serve to show how
old it is, and how widely and generally popular it was.
In the Elizabethan literature allusions to it abound, thouo-h.
strangely enough, not one occurs in the plays of Shakespeare,
familiar as he must have been with it and the locality to which
the more touching part is attached. Puttenham, in his Art of
Poetry (1589), speaks of "places of assembly where the company
shall be desirous to hear of old adventures and valiances of noble
knights in times past, as are those of King Arthur and the Knights
of the round table — Sir Bevis of Southampton, Gruy of Warwick,
and others like." In Dr. King's Dialogues of the Dead (quoted
by Mr. Chappell), " It is the negligence of our ballad singers,"
a Ghost remarks, " that makes us to be talked of less than
others ; for who almost besides St. Greorge, King Arthur, Bevis,
Guy and Hickathrift, are in the chronicles ? " The Little French
Lawyer in Fletcher's play of the name, and Old ^Master Merry-
thought in the Knight of the Burning Pestle sing snatches of
the Legend. Corbet in his Iter Boreale wishes,

May all the ballads be call'd in & dye,
Which sing the warrs of Colebrand & Sir Guy.

Butler tells us of Talgol, one of Hudibras' supporters (who,
according to L'Estrange, represented a certain Newgate Market
butcher),

He many a boar & huge dim-cow
Did, lilve another Guy, o'erthrow ;
But Guy with him in fight compar'd
Had like the boar or dun-cow far'd.

Such has been the popularity of this story. The oldest literary
form of it preserved to us is, as we have seen, an Anglo-Norman
romance, composed probably in the thirteenth century. This,
no doubt, was founded on songs and traditions that were then
commonly in vogue in the covmtry, that had then already been
so for many a generation. These were dressed and decorated
by the romance-writer according to the fashion of his age ;

518 GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

the old Saxon hero transformed into a Norman knight, dis-
patched to the crusades, conducted from tournament to tourna-
ment throughout Europe, and carried through all the adventures
proper for a hero of chivalry. One most prominent feature
of the romance is its monastic feeling, which, indeed, is so
strong that one may well believe it to be the work of a monk.
A terrible remorse seizes Gruy at last for all the blood he has
shed, and his love for the woman who has incited him to his
blood-shedding career passes away. Is this penitential element
part of the original tale ? Was this sung of by old pre-Norman
gleemen ? Or is it rather to be ascribed to the translator and
editor of the thirteenth century ? Probably so. In the old Saxon
poetry, so far as is known, women occupy but an unimportant
place. Neither there, nor indeed in the life which that poetry
reflects, do they "rain influence and adjudge the prize." More-
over, one can well conceive such an addition being made to the
story in the thirteeuth century, a period of a great monastic
revival — a period of much doubt as to matrimony, an uneasy
suspicion prevailing that it was an indulgence which the truly
pious man would scarcely allow himself. Such a suspicion enters
the soul of Guy, when at last, after waiting and longing and
serving so long, he is at last crowned with the happiness of his
heart ; he resolves to abandon the treasure gained. How noble
and devout such an abandonment was held to be by the medigeval
monks may be seen from endless instances, notably from the
story of Saint Alexios, of whom Alban Butler thus writes ' :

Having, in compliance with the will of his parents, married a rich
and virtuous lady, he on the very day of the nuptials, making use of
the liberty which the laws of God and his church give a person before
the marriage he consummated, of preferring a more perfect state,
secretely withdrew, in order to break all the ties which held him in
this world. In disguise he travelled into a different country, em-

■ See Appendix at the end of this Introduction.

GUY AND COLEBRANDE. 519

braced extreme poverty, and resided in a hut adjoining to a churcli
dedicated to the Mother of God. Being after some time there dis-
covered to be a stranger of distinction, he returned home, and being
reheved as a poor pilgrim, lived some time unknown in his father's
house, bearing the contumely and ill-treatment of the servants with
invincible patience and silence. A little before he died he by a letter
discovered himself to his parents.

Gay's wife-desertion then, and his severe ascetieism, may be
later additions to his original story. There can be little doubt
that that original story belongs to a remote age, — possibly, as has
been suggested, to an age anterior even to that assigned to it in
the romance — the age of Athelstan. With this age of Athelstan
it would seem to have been connected from a very early time.
There is no kind of historical basis for it in what records we have
of that age. There was certainly a great Northern invasion in
tlie reign of Athelstan. Northumbria, lately annexed by him,
allied itself with Scots, Danes, Welsh, and essayed to recover its
independence. " They fought with Athelstan," writes Milton,
" at a place called Wenduse [which might easily have been
confounded with Wyntou] ; others term it Brununbury, others
[as William of Malmesbury] Bruneford ; which Ingulgh [who
calls it Brunford] places beyond Humber ; Camden in Glendale
of Northumberland on the Scottish borders — the bloodiest fight,
say authors, that ever this island saw." Ellis suggests that Guy
— he should say Egil — may be identical with one Egils, " who did
in fact contribute very materially " to the victory. If this be so,
then the legend must be rather Scandinavian than Saxon ; for this
Egil was a northern viking enlisted on the side of Athelstan. But,
indeed, if the legend be an old Saxon one, there need be no diffi-
cidty in accounting for its later connection with the reign of
Athelstan. That was the most glorious reign in the history of
Saxon England. Athelstan reaped the rich fruits of his illustrious
grandfather's wisdom and policy. He was enabled to consolidate
the kingdom, and to maintain its unity unimpaired. At home

520 GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

and abroad his name was known and feared. His crowning
victory at Brunanburgli produced a profound impression. Even
the Saxon imagination was stirred by such power and glory.
"To describe his famous fight," says Milton, "the Saxon annalist,
wont to be sober and succinct, whether the same or another writer,
now labouring under the weight of his argument and overcharged,
runs on a sudden into such extravagant fancies and metaphors as
bear him quite beyond the scope of being understood." Strangely
enough, the great poet did not recognise in the passage he thus
characterises the work of an older bard ; for it is in fact one of
the few Saxon poems that survive. There are many signs of a
rich ballad literature, besides that spirited piece, appertaining
to this great monarch's reign. There is the story of Analaf
belonging to that same battle, which is evidently taken by
Malmesbury from some old ballad. Then there are the stories of
the King's mother's dream, and of his brother Edwin's punish-
ment for taking part in a conspiracy against him, both which
that chronicler confessedly found in old ballads. Natvirally
enough, the story too of the great combat with the giant was
attached to his reign ; for legends attract each other, so to speak.
The name given in later times to the national combatant was
Guy.

Other romances in course of time grew around that of Gruy,
treating of his son Riusburn, of his tutor Heraud and his son.

Had. MS. 7333, /o^. 35 b.
\>& ermyte -with Inne litil spase By an Aungel his spirit to conveye

By detlie is past >e Ende of his laboure Afftir his bodyly Eesolyciouwe
Aftir whome G uy was \>eT successoure For his meritzs to \>^ hevenely mansyoune

Space of twoo yere by grace of crist J^an in allc haste he sent his weddyng

Ihesn Byng

Dauntyng his fleshe by penaunce and Vn to his wyfFof trewe Aifecciouwe

Kygour Prayd her tocome|And beo at his eonding

Ay more and more encressyng in vertev ^ That she sholde doone >ere hir besye
^ God made him knowe }>= dayo }>' he cure

shold dyce As by A maner wyffly deligense

}>oro\vc his gracious vesitaciouno In haste to ordeyne for his Cepultiire

GUY AND COLEBRA.NDE.

521

"With uoo J>ret costo ne vfitk no grete

dispence
Sheo hasted hir til sheo cam in presence
Wlier i>dt Guy lay dedly pale of face
Bespreynt yvith teeres knelyng with

Reufrenee
J>e dede body Felyce did tlier inbrace
^This notable & Famouse worthi knyght
Sent her to sayne bi his messagier
In t^ilke place to burye hym anoone

Eight
Wher that he lay to fore in A smal

Awter
And Afftir this do® trewly hir deveyre
)>er for her selfe dysposyn and provide
Fyfftene dayes Folowj-