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EDITED BY

JOHN W. HALES, M.A.

.FELLOW AND LATE ASSISTANT-TUTOR OP CHRIST'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE

AND

FREDERICK J. FURNIVALL, M.A.

OF TRINITY HALL, CAMBRIDGE.

(assisted by Prof. CHILD, of Harvard Univ., U.S. ; W. CHAPPELL, Esq., Sic. &c.)

>7oh M.

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

1868.

PREFACE

Corrections.

Preface, line 4, for Grey read Guy
Page xl ,, 1, for villan read villans
„ xlvii. The quotation, Sect. 189, is from Littleton translated
1, line 1, for wines read wiues

„ 18, 21, hulde means ' flay '
liv ,, 1, cut out be

„ 26, for English history read early history
lviii ,, 3, Redde quod debes belongs to line 2
note \for line 12 read page lxi, line 2
„ lix, line 21, for ser ued read seraed
lx „ 25, for saves read save
lxxi .. 2, /or Horn rrafl Horn

Percy Ballads, Vol. II.

selves as to his probable amount of alteration in the other parts.

The folio version of Bell my Wiffe — a ballad to which Shak-

spere's quotation of it in Othello has secured immortality — is

believed to be the earliest known ; and as it just filled a page

PREFACE

THE SECOND VOLUME.

As the first volume was specially that of Arthur and Grawaine,
of Eobin Hood and his great compeer, now almost forgotten,
' Eandolph, Erl of Chestre,' so this second volume is specially
that of Sir Grey, who did such mighty deeds for England, and
the pathos of whose death in his hermit's cell near Warwick
has never yet been worthily sung.

But the Arthur and Grawaine stories are here continued in
The Grene Knight, the Boy and Mantle, and Libius Disconius ;
and we have besides, in the present volume, versions of some of
the best of our English ballads, Chevy Chase, Childe Waters,
Bell my Wife, Bessie off Bednall, &c. Of one of the best of
them, King Estmere, Percy's ruthless hands (p. 200, note) have
prevented us giving the MS. version of the folio. We have been
unable to find any other MS. or printed copy of this ballad, and
have therefore been obliged to put side by side in an appendix
Percy's two printed versions of it, with all their differences from
each other marked in italics, so that readers may judge for them-
selves as to his probable amount of alteration in the other parts.

The folio version of Bell my Wiffe — a ballad to which Shak-
spere's quotation of it in Othello has secured immortality — is
believed to be the earliest known ; and as it just filled a page

PREFACE

THE SECOND VOLUME.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME.

in the MS. it was chosen for photolithographing, and an im-
pression of it will be given with Vol. III. for Vol. I.

John de Reeue is (among other pieces) here printed for the
first time, and if it can be taken in any degree as a picture of
the bondman's condition at the time it represents, or even the
time it was written, it is of considerable historical value. At
any rate, it shows us a merry scene of early English life.
Conscience's tale is of a darker tint, but is valuable for its
sketch of the corruptions of its times. The other historical
ballads treat of fights and plots abroad and at home — of
Agincourt, Buckingham's Fall, the Siege of Cadiz, Durham
Field, Northumberland besieged by Douglas, &c. &c, — but
none of them are of more than average merit.

Mr. Hales has written all the Introductions, except those to
Coles Voyage (for which the Editors are indebted to Mr. John
Bruce, the Director of the Camden Society), to Earle Bodwell
(which is reprinted from the first edition of Bishop Percy's
Reliques), to Boy and Mantle (which is reprinted from Pro-
fessor Child's Ballads), and the following by Mr. Furnivall :
Come, Come ; Conscience ; Ac/incourte Battell; and Libius Dis-
conius. Mr. Hales has also written the Introductory Essay on
The Eevival of Ballad Poetry in the Eighteenth Century.

For the text Mr. Furnivall is, as before, mainly responsible,
and has to thank Mr. W. A. Dalziel for his help in reading the
copy and proof with the MS. The contractions of the MS. are
printed in italics in the text.

To the Eevs. Alexander Dyce, W. W. Skeat, J. Eoberts, and
Archdeacon Hale ; to Messrs. Chappell, Bruce, T. Wright,
Planche, and Jones, the Editors tender their thanks for help
in divers ways.

February 4, 1868.

CONTENTS

THE SECOND VOLUME.

PAGE

THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY . V

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

notes lxiii

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

WHEN LOVE WITH UNCONFINED WINGS . . . . .17

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

THE KINGE ENJOYES HIS RIGHTS AGAINE 24

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

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

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

AMONGST THE MIRTLES 35

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

AY ME, AY ME ! PORE SISLEY AND UNDONE ..... 43

FAINE WOLDE I CHANGE MY MAIDEN LIFE 46

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

HOW FAYRE SHEE BE ........ 50

COME, COME, COME, SHALL WEE MASQUE OR MUM ... 52

THE GRENE KNIGHT .56

SIR TRIAMORE .......... 78

GUYE AND AMARANT ......... 136

CALES VOYAGE 144

KINGE AND MILLER ......... 147

agincourte battell (see Appendix, p. 595) . . . .158

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

CONSCIENCE

PAGE

. 174

DURHAM FEILDE .....

. 190

GUT and phillis (for the beginning, see Af.

ipeiuli.c, p. 608) . . 201

JOHN A SIDE . .

. 203

RISINGE IN THE NORTHE ....

. 210

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS

. 217

GUYE OF GISBORNE

. 227

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE

. 238

LADYES FALL

. 246

BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER

. 253

EARLE BODWELL .....

. 260

BISHOPPE AND BROWNE ....

. 265

CHILDE WATERS ....

. 269

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL

. 279

HUGH SPENCER ....

. 290

KINGE ADLER

296

BOY AND MANTLE ....

301

WHITE ROSE AND RED

312

BELL MY WIFFE

320

I LIVE WHERE I LOVE . .

325

YOUNGE ANDREW ....

327

A JIGGE

334

EGLAMORE .....

338

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE

390

SITTINGE LATE .....

400

LIBIUS DISCONIUS ....

404

CHILDE MAURICE ....

500

PHILLIS HOE

507

GUY AND COLEBRANDE

509

JOHN DE REEVE ....

559

APPENDIX

595

TWO AGINCOURT BALLADS

595

king estmere (two versions, from the 1st and 4>th editions of

The Reliqu.es) ........ 600

guy and phillis (the first eleven stem

■MS of) 608

CORRIGENDA.

p. 9, 1. 68, for armour read armor,
p. 16, 1. 253, for and read &.
p. 23, 1. 9, for [and] read &.
p. 28, 1. 6, for with read with.

1. 22, for between read betweene.
p. 29, 1. 77, for thein read them,
p. 41, 1. 9, for up read vp.
p. 46, 1. 7, for bells read bell,
p. 60, note 6, for theye read they.
p. 63, 1. 134 ; p. 66, 1. 203, 215 ;for and read &.
p. 72, note 3 : the r has fallen out of the A. -Sax. Gram,
p. 77, note, col. 1, 1. 2 ;for missed. As read missed, as.
p. 140, 1. 109, add witt at the end of the line.

note l ,for Strowt yn read Strowtyn.
p. 159, 1. 7, for 1569 read 1659.
p. 164, note 2 ,for terme read tenne.
p. 254, 1. 12, for Robert read Richard.

p. 379, notes, col. 2, for "1867 " read " Babees Book, See. 1868."
N.B. The reading of the vol. with the MS. was stopt at p. 74 by the return of the

MS. to its owners.

THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY IN THE
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

The last century in England was in more respects than one a
valley of dry bones. About the middle of it, " they were very
many," and "they were very dry." Shortly afterwards, "behold, a
noise," and the bones began to come together. These signs of life
were followed by a growing animation. From the four quarters
came the wind, and breathed on the quickening mass. From
the north it came in its strength ; from the east and the west it
blew vigorously ; from the south it rushed with a wild furious
sweeping blast that changed the face of the valley. So at last
the century revived — its dull lack-lustre eyes brightened — its
stagnant pulse leapt — it lived.

I do not now propose to attempt a full description of this
mighty revival. But I propose confining myself to one par-
ticular feature of it — the appreciation of our older literature,
and especially of our ballad poetry. The century that had long
been fully satisfied with its own productions, at last recognised
that the English literature of ages that had preceded it was
not wholly barbarous. The century that had given up itself to
rules, and reduced the art of poetry to a mechanical trick, at
last acknowledged graces beyond the reach of its art. At last
it was brought to see that there were more things in heaven
and earth than were dreamt of in its philosophy.

It discovered that there were innumerable beauties around it
to which it had long been blind. It left its gardens and its

vol. ii. a

Vi THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

elaborate manipulations of nature to see Nature herself. It
gave over refining the lily and gilding the rose to look at the
flowers in their simple beauty. It became conscious of the
exquisite beauties and glories of Switzerland, of the English
lakes, of Wales. New worlds of splendour, and of noble enjoy-
ment, dawned upon it. Not greater discoveries were made by
Columbus and his followers four centuries before than were
then made. The age, with all its self-complaisance, had been
living in a prison. The doors were thrown open, and it came
forth to feel and enjoy the fresh breezes and the gracious
sunshine. A huger, more dismal, more cramping Bastile than
that of Paris fell along with it. The age saw at the same time
that, besides the beauties of nature, there were beauties that
the art of former days had bequeathed it. It began to discern
the subtle loveliness of old cathedral churches that studded the
country. It had long eyed them with much disfavour. It had
sadly disfigured them with adornments of its own devising, and
according with its own notions. It had deplored them as
monstrous relics of a profound barbarism. But at last the
scales fell from its eyes, and it saw that these " tabernacles
of the Lord of Hosts " were " amiable." It awoke to their
supreme, lavish, refined beautifulness. So with respect to
other branches of Gothic art, other fruits of the old Bomantic
times, they came to a better appreciation of them. Poets and
poems that had for many a day been relegated to neglect and
oblivion, were more frankly and fairly valued. Voices that
had long been silenced or ignored began to find a hearing
and a heeding audience. As Greek literature was revived in
the fifteenth, so was Bomantic in the eighteenth.

A fair criterion of the progress of the century in the re-
cognition of the Bomantic age is its appreciation of Chaucer.
The most important event of the century regarding him is the
appearance of Tyrwhitt's edition of him in 1775. Then at last

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Vll

an attempt was made to vindicate his fame from the imputation
of rudeness ; to show that he, no less than the eighteenth-
century poets, had some sense of melody, some talent for
character-drawing, some power of language. Sp enser was more
readily and continuously accepted. The age sympathised with
the moralising part of his genius, and found pleasure in imi-
tating him. But, as I have said, I propose now considering
the history of our ballad poetry ; and to it I turn.

The most signal event regarding it is the publication of
Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry in 1765. Let us
see how the century was prepared, or had been preparing, for
that famous publication.

Our English ballads, though highly popular in the Elizabethan
age, as innumerable allusions to them in Shakespeare and the
other dramatists, and in the general literature of the time, show,
were yet never collected into any volume, save in Garlands,
till the year 1723. They wandered up and down the country
without even sheepskins or goatskins to protect them. They
flew about like the birds of the air, and sung songs dear to the
heart of the common people — songs whose power was sometimes
confessed by the higher classes, but not so thoroughly appreciated
as to induce them to exert themselves for their preservation.

They were looked down upon as things that were very good in

their proper place, but which must not be admitted into higher

society. They were admired in a condescending manner. They

were much better than could be expected. But no one thought

of them as popular lyrics of great intrinsic value. No one put

forth a hand to save them from perishing. The custom of

covering the walls of houses with them that happily prevailed

in the seventeenth century did something for their preservation.

So secured, they had a better chance of keeping a place in

men's memories, and meeting some day appreciative eyes.

Towards the end of the said century were made one or two

a 2

viii THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

collections of the broad sheets containing them. The black-
letter literature of the people was collected rather for its
curiousness than its power or beauty, by antiquaries rather
than by poets or enjoyers of poetry. Whatever their motives,
let us praise Wood and Harley, Selden 1 and Pepys, Rawlinson,
Douce, and Bagford, for their services in gathering together
and protecting the frail outcasts from destruction. They were
as great benefactors of the old ballads as Captain Coram was of
foundlings. Be their names glorified !

There can be no doubt that the powerful mind of Dryden
justly appreciated the strength of our old literature, although
he so far bows before the spirit of his age as to deface it for
the reception of that age. Even when he revised and spoiled
Chaucer's works, he felt the power of them. But he resigned
his own judgment to that of his contemporaries. This Sam-
son in his captivity consented to make merry and carouse
with his captors — to translate the songs he loved into the
Philistine dialect. He had a fine appreciation of the old
ballads. "I have heard," says a Spectator, "that the late
Lord Dorset, who had the greatest wit tempered with the
greatest candour, and was one of the finest critics as well as
the best poets of his age, had a numerous collection of old
English ballads, and took a particular pleasure in the reading
of them. I can affirm the same of Mr. Dryden, and know
several of the most refined writers of our present age who are
of the same humour." He is, I think, the first collector of
poems who conceded to popular ballads their due place, — who
admitted them into the society of other poems — poems by the
most Eminent Hands, — who perceived their excellence, and
welcomed them accordingly. To other collectors of that date
it was as disgraceful to a poem as to a man to have no father,

1 Tradition says that Pepys " borrowed " a part of his Collection from Selden,
and forgot to return it. — W. C.

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. IX

or to be suspected of a common origin. Dryden rose above
this prejudice. He showed one or two ballads the same hospi-
tality as he extended to the poetasters of Oxford and Cambridge,
whose name was Legion at this time. In the Miscellany Poems,
edited by him, of which the first volume appeared in 1684, the
last in 1708, eight years after his death, are to be found " Little
Musgrave and the Lady Bernard," certainly one of the most
vigorous ballads in our language ; " Chevy Chase, " with a
rhyming Latin translation ; " Johnnie Armstrong," " Gilderoy,"
"The Miller and the King's Daughters." But the evil that men
do lives after them. Dryden, in his " Knight's Tale " and other
works, had set the fashion of imitating and modernising our old
poems. That fashion survived him. For more than half a
century after his death, with the exception of the insertion of
two or three in Playford's 1 Wit and Mirth, or Pills to purge
Melancholy, and of the Collection of Old Ballads above referred
to, we have produced in England imitations or adaptations of
ballads — no faithful reprint of the genuine thing. The wine
that the age had given it to drink was a miserable dilution, or
only coloured water. Conspicuous amongst these imitators or
adapters were Parnell, Prior, and Tickell. But there were two
men in Queen Anne's time who had a genuine relish for old
ballads, and who said a good word for them. These were
Addison and Rowe. Addison's taste for them had been awakened
during his travels on the Continent. " When I travelled," he
writes, " I took a particular delight in hearing the songs and
fables that are come from father to son, and are most in vosaie
among the common people of the countries through which I
passed ; for it is impossible that anything should be universally
tasted and approved by a multitude, though they are only the
rabble of a nation, which hath not in it some peculiar aptness

1 This Collection, though generally (1719), in six volumes. Five were
called D'Urfey's, was Henry Playford's. printed in 1714 ; the first volume in
D'Urfey edited only the last edition 1699.— W. C.

X THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

to please and gratify the mind of man." He gives, as is well
known, two numbers of the Spectator to a consideration of
" Chevy Chase," one to that of the " Children in the Wood."
" The old song of ' Chevy Chase,' " he writes, " is the favourite
ballad of the common people of England, and Ben Jonson used
to say he had rather have been the author of it than of all his
works." Then he quotes Sir Philip Sidney's famous words ; and
then adds, " For my own part I am so professed an admirer of
this antiquated song that I shall give my reader a critick upon
it, without any further apology for so doing." And he proceeds
to investigate the poem according to the critical rules of his
time. He compares it with other heroic poems, and illustrates
it from Virgil and Horace. He read the old ballad in the light
of his age — viewed and reviewed it in a somewhat narrow spirit.
But he did read it — he did look at it. In spite of the confining
criticism and hypercriticism of the day, he did feel and recognise
its power. " Thus we see," his examen concludes, " how the
thoughts of this poem, which naturally arise from the subject,
are always simple, and sometimes exquisitely noble ; that the
language is often very sounding, and that the whole is written
with a true poetical spirit." In another paper he calls attention
to and expresses the " most exquisite pleasure " he had received
from " The Two Children in the Wood," which he had en-
countered pasted upon the wall of some house in the country.
He describes it as " one of the darling songs of the common
people," and as having been " the delight of most Englishmen
in some part of their age ; " and then he discusses it after his
manner. " The tale of it is a pretty tragical story, and pleases
for no other reason but because it is a copy of nature. There
is even a despicable simplicity in the verse ; and yet because the
sentiments appear genuine and unaffected, they are able to
move the mind of the most polite reader with inward meltings
of humanity and compassion." But he could not bring his

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XI

contemporaries to sympathise with him. They would not hear,
charmed he never so wisely. His " Chevy Chase " papers were
ridiculed and parodied by Dennis and Wagstaff and kindred
spirits. To them perhaps he alludes in the concluding words
of his notice of the other ballad he reviews : " As for the little
conceited wits of the age," he writes, " who can only show their
judgment by finding fault, they cannot be supposed to admire
those productions which have nothing to recommend them but
the beauties of nature, when they do not know how to relish
even those compositions that, with all the beauties of nature,
have also the additional advantages of art." He fought a losing
battle. What appreciation of the old things there was at the
beginning of the century was rapidly decaying. An age of
elaborate artificiality, and studied affectation, was dawning.

I have mentioned Eowe as sharing Addison's appreciation
of the old ballads. He takes for one of his plays a subject that
was the theme of a widely popular ballad, and in introducing
his tragedy, deprecates the adverse prejudices of his audience,
and speaks boldly in favour of the elder literature, and against
the wretched affectations of his time. The Prologue to his
"Jane Shore," first acted in 1713, opens thus:

To-night, if you have brought your good old taste,

We'll treat you with a downright English feast,

A tale which, told long since in homely wise,

Hath never failed of melting gentle eyes.

Let no nice sir despise the hapless dame

Because recording ballads chaunt her name ;

Those venerable ancient song-enditers

Soared many a pitch above our modern writers.

They caterwauled in no romantic ditty,

Sighing for Philis's or Cloe's pity ;

Justly they drew the Fair, and spoke her plain,

And sung her by her Christian name — 'twas Jane.

Our numbers may be more refined than those,

But what we've gained in verse, we've lost in prose ;

Their words no shuffling double-meaning knew,

Their speech was homely, but their hearts were true.

Xll THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

In such an age immortal Shakespear wrote.
By no quaint rules nor hampering critics taught,
With rough majestic force they moved the heart,
And strength and nature made amends for art.
Our humble author does his steps pursue ;
He owns he had the mighty bard in view ;
And in these scenes has made it more his care
To rouse the passions than to charm the ear.

But this advocacy, too, of a better taste was doomed to fail.
Rowe, as Addison, spoke in vain. The literary dominion of
France was growing more and more supreme. Protests in
behalf of our old masters were urged fruitlessly. The charms
of our ballad poetry were disregarded, were despised.

There were, however, others besides Addison and Rowe who
had some slight sense of those charms, as for instance those
whom we have named — Parnell, Tickell, Prior. Parnell's ac-
quaintance with our older literature is shown in his " Fairy Tale
in the Ancient English Style." It is but a feeble piece, written
in a favourite Romance metre — the metre of Chaucer's " Tale of
Sir Topas " — and decorated with occasional bits of bad grammar
to give it an antique look. Tickell's friendship with Addison
could not but have conduced to some familiarity on his part
with the old ballads. He seems to have been inspired by them
in no ordinary degree. Apropos of his " Lucy and Colin," Gold-
smith remarks : " Through all Tickell's works there is a strain
of ballad-thinking, if I may so express it ; and in this professed
ballad he seems to have surpassed himself. It is perhaps the
best in our language in this way." The writer of it has evidently
drunk from the old wells. The story is simple. It is told in a
queer style — a sort of strange compromise between the sim-
plicity of the old ballad language and the superfine verbiage
that was rising into esteem in Tickell's own day. Lucy, the
reader may remember, is deserted by her lover for a richer
bride. She cannot survive this cruelty. She says, [to quote
well-known lines,

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Xlll

I hear a voice you cannot hear,

Which says I must not stay.
I see a hand you cannot see,

Which beckons me away.

She is buried on the day of her false lover's marriage. The
funeral cortege encounters the hymeneal. The bridegroom's
old passion, too late, revives.

Confusion, shame, remorse, despair

At once his bosom swell ;
The damps of death bedew his brow ;

He shook, he groaned, he fell.

There is not the true note here, but there is a distant echo of
it. In the handsome folio volume of poems published by
Matthew Prior in 1718 was printed the " Not-Browne Maide,"
not for its own sake, but for the sake of a piece called " Henry
and Emma," an extremely loose paraphrase of it, that the
reader might see how magic was Mr. Prior's touch, who could
transmute so rude an effort into a work so finely polished.
However, Prior deserves some credit for having brought the
old poem forward at all. His " Henry and Emma " won great
applause. What a strange, instructive, significant fact, that
when it and its original were placed before them, men should
deliberately choose it ! A morbid taste was prevailing with a
vengeance. No plea that the language was obscure can be
advanced in this case, as for Dryden's and Pope's versions of
the Canterbury Tales. There is no obscurity in these words :

Lorde, what is
This worldis blisse,

That chaungeth as the mone !

The somers day

In lusty may

Is derked before the none.

1 hear you say
Farewel ! Nay, nay.
We departe not soo sone ;
Why say ye so ?

Win 'dor wyle ye goo ?

XIV TIIE REVIVAL OF BALLAD TOETRT

Alas ! what have ye done ?

Alle my welfare

To sorow and care

Shulde chaunge yf ye were gon ;

For in my mynde

Of all mankynde

I loue but you alone.

But Prior's age did not care for their simple beauty. It could
not value that art quce celat artem. It could not enjoy wild
flowers. To the above delightful speech it preferred the fol-
lowing:

What is our bliss, that changeth with the moon,

And day of life, that darkens ere 'tis noon ?

What is true passion, if unblest it dies?

And where is Emma's joy, if Henry flies ?

If love, alas ! be pain, the pain I bear

No thought can figure, and no tongue declare.

Ne'er faithful woman felt, nor false one feign'd

The flames which long have in my bosom reign'd ;

The god of love himself inhabits there,

With all his rage, and dread, and grief, and care,

His complement of stores and total war.

O ! cease then coldly to suspect my love,

And let my deed at least my faith approve.

Alas ! no youth shall my endearments share,

Nor day nor night shall interrupt my care ;

No future story shall with truth upbraid

The cold indifference of the nut-brown maid;

Nor to hard banishment shall Henry run,

While careless Emma sleeps on beds of down.

View me resolved, where'er thou lead'st, to go,

Friend to thy pain, and partner of thy woe ;

For I attest fair Venus and her son,

That I, of all mankind, will love but thee alono.

Early in the reign of George I., then, the old ballads had
grown insipid. Men had no longer eyes to see their wild
graces. An age of rules was shocked by their fine irregularity.
A moralising and sentimentalising age was horrified at their
plain-spokenness and objectivity. A didactic age could conceive
no interest in such spontaneous songs. It had narrow ideas of
what is instructive, and it wanted instructing. It did not under-

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XV

stand the singing as the linnet sings. It wanted its theories
illustrated, discussed, enforced. In a word, it confounded poetry
and morality. It did not cultivate, and it lost the faculty of
pure enjoyment. No wonder then, if, finding no response to
its ideas in the old ballads, it turned away from them, and would
not answer when they called, would not dance when they piped.
But even at this time, when they were rapidly nearing the
nadir of their popularity, the ballads found a friend. In 1723
appeared a volume of collected ballads, followed three years after-
wards by a second, in 1727 by a third. These three volumes
formed that first collection of English ballads (there is only one
Scotch l ballad among them) to which we have above adverted.
Denmark had made collections of its ballads in 1591 and in
1695 ; Spain in 1510, 1555, 1566, and 1615. England — save
the earlier Garlands — first did so in 1723. Scotland, without,
so far as we know, any knowledge of what had been done in
England, in the following year, when Allan Ramsay, a great
student of "the Bruce," "the Wallis," and Lyndsay's works,

1 Songs and ballads of rustic and dainty new Scotch dialogue between a
of humble life were called "Scotch" yong man and his mistresse," subscribed
from about the middle of the 17th Martin Parker, Pop. Music, p. 452.)
century, and without any intention of After him came Tom D'Urfey, and many
imputing to them a Scottish origin, or more. The use extended till, at length,
that they were imitations. The same even ballads relating to the northern
had before been called " Northern." counties of England, and so, in every
Mr. Payne Collier repeatedly reminds sense " northern," were reprinted as
the readers of the Registers of the Scotch. (See, for instance, " Nanny
Stationers' Company that this word 0," Pop. Music, p. 610, note a.) This
"northern" means "rustic." (See Notes conventional meaning of "Scotch" seems
and Queries, Dec. 28, 1861, p. 514; Feb. to have been accepted in Scotland as
8, 1862, p. 106; Feb. 21, 1863, p. 145.) well as in England, for in no other
The substitution of "Scotch" seems to sense could Allan Ramsay claim, among
have commenced during the civil war, and others, Gray's ballad, " Black-ey'd Susan,"
perhaps only after Charles II. had been in the very first part of " A miscellany
crowned King of Scots, when " Scotch" of Scots Sangs," or W. Thomson appro-
at length became a popular, and even a priato songs by Ambrose Phillips and
party word with the Cavaliers. The other well-known Englishmen, in his
first writer in whom I ha»ve noted the Orpheus Caledonius. This remark is
change is Martin Parker, author of the necessary because Percy has, through-
famous Cavalier, ball ad " When the King out, taken the words "northern" and
shall enjoy his own again." (See, for " Scotch" only in their literal local sense,
instance, "A pair of turtle doves, or a — W. C.

XVI THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

having " observed that Eeaders of the best and most exquisite
Discernment frequently complain of our modern Writings as
filled with affected Delicacies and studied Eefinements, which
they would gladly exchange for that natural strength of thought
and simplicity of stile our Forefathers practised," published his
" Ever-Green, being a collection of Scots Poems wrote by the
Ingenious before 1600," and in the same year "The Tea-Table
Miscellany, or a Collection of Scots Sangs, in three volumes."
All three collections seem to have enjoyed a fair success. Who
was the author of the English one is not known. 1 It is called
" A collection of Old Ballads corrected from the best and most
ancient copies extant, with Introductions, Historical, Critical,
or Humorous, illustrated with copper plates." The editor adopts
an apologetic motto for his book — some of the above-quoted
words of Eowe. He writes, too, in an apologetic vein. " There
are many," he says, " who perhaps will think it ridiculous enough
to enter seriously into a Dissertation upon Ballads." He is evi-
dently rather afraid of being thought a frivolous creature by his
lofty-minded contemporaries. He is a little uneasy in intro-
ducing his protegees to the polished public. But he does his
duty by them bravely, only indulging himself now and then in a
little superior laugh at their expense. He gives what account
he can of the theme of each one, and shows always a thorough
interest in his work. But the time was not yet ripe for his
labours. The popularity that attended the first appearance of
his collection soon ceased. The predominant character of the
age was not changed. The old voices could not yet secure a
hearing. The age clung to its idols. Its Pharisaic spirit was
too strong to be restrained. It could not vet believe that out
of the mouth of the common people there was ordained strength.
After the middle of the century some promise was shown of

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

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XV11

a better era. In Capell's "Prolusions, or Select Pieces of
Antient Poetry, corapil'd with great care from their several
Originals, and offer'd to the Publick as Specimens of the
Integrity that should be found in the Editions of Worthy
Authors," published in 1760, appeared the "Not-browne
Mayde," no longer accompanied by a modernised version. This
book gives hints of the reaction that was coming against the old
manipulating method. " Fidelity to the best Texts," is its
watchword. In the same year (1760) appeared Macpberson's
Ossian, and produced an immense sensation. Bishop Percy,
with the good wishes and assistance of many then distinguished
men — of Shenstone, Garrick, Joseph Warton, Farmer — was
supplementing the treasures of his wonderful Folio MS. from
other quarters, and preparing the materials of his Reliques of
Ancient En f/lish Poetry. About the same time (1764) appeared
Evans's " Specimens of the Poetry of the Antient Welsh Bards."
Mallet's work on "the remains of the Mythology and Poetry
of the Celtes, particularly of Scandinavia," had already been
published some years. 1 About the same time Gray was
writing his Welsh and Scandinavian pieces. 2 At the same time
Chatterton was striving to satisfy the new taste that was
spreading with forgeries of old poems. 3 The first decade, then,
of George III.'s reign is most memorable in the history of the

1 Mallet (P.-H.) Introduction a This- Glasgow; and at the same time Dodsley
toire de Dannemark, ou Ton traite de was also printing them in London. In
la religion, des mceurs et usages des an- both these editions, the " Long Story "
ciens danois etc. Copenhagve, 1755-56. was omitted. Some pieces of Welch
Les Monumens de la Mythologie et and Norwegian poetry, written in a
de la Poesie des Celtes (trad, des Edda) hold and original manner, were inserted
ouvrage qui fait partie de cette intro- in its place. Mitford's Life of Gray,
duction, ont aussi paru separement avec Works, i. xlix.-l. — F.

un titre particulier, en 1756. Brunei. 3 Published in 1777- He died Aug.

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

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

2 In 1767 he [Gray] had intended a entitled " A Description of the Fryers'
second tour to Scotland. At Dr. first passage over the Old Bridge,"
Beattie's desire, a new edition of his appeared in Farley's Journal, Bristol,
poems was published by Foulis at Oct. 1768. Penny Cycl. — F.

vol. ir. b

xviii THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

revival of our ballad poetry. Then commenced an appreciation
of it which has grown stronger and stronger with the lapse of
years. Then it found itself so well supported that it was able
to hold up its head in spite of peremptory contemptuous
criticism. It feared no more the frowns of the great. Its
beauty was no longer to be hid — its light no longer veiled away
from men's eyes. " Even from the tomb the voice of nature
cried." In the midst of conventionalisms and artificialities,
Simplicity and Truth asserted themselves. The age was growing
sick and weary of its old darlings ; growing sensible that there
was no salvation in them, no infallibility, no supreme delight in

their worship :

Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret.

Cinderella had sat by the kitchen fire for many a day. For
many a day the elder sisters, tricked out in all the modish
finery of the time, every attitude studied, every look elaborated
every movement affected, had possessed the drawing-room in all
their fashionable state. Cinderella down in the kitchen had
heard the rustle of their fine silks and satins, and the sound of
their polite conversation. She had been perplexed by their
polished verbiage, and felt her own awkwardness and rusticity.
She had never dared to think herself beautiful. No admiring
eyes ever came near her in which she might mirror herself.
She had never dared to think her voice sweet. No rapt ears
ever drank in fondly its accents. She felt herself a plain-
faced, dull-souled, uninteresting person, not worthy to receive
any attention from any one of the fine gentlemen who adored
her sisters, or to enter their well-mannered society. But her
lowliness was to be regarded. The songs she had sung in the
kitchen to the servants — her humble, unpretentious songs —
they were to find greater favour than ever did those of her
much-complimented sisters. She too was to be the belle of
balls. It was about the year 1760 when the possibility of so

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XIX

great a change in her condition became first conceivable. She
met with many enemies, who clamoured that the kitchen was
her proper place, and vehemently opposed her admission into
any higher room. The Prince was long in finding her out.
The sisters put many an obstacle between him and her. They
could not understand the failure of their own attractions.
They could not appreciate the excellence of hers. But at last
the Prince found her, and took her in all her simple sweetness
to himself. At last, to lay metaphors aside, England ac-
knowledged the power and beauty of the ballads that had
suffered for so long a time such grievous neglect.

At the accession of George III., William Whitehead was in
the third year of his adornment of the Poet Laureateship.
" The Pleasures of Imagination," " The Schoolmistress," " The
Complaint, or Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immor-
tality" — works which had been given to the world some
sixteen or eighteen years before — were at the zenith of their
fame. The general character of our literature at this time
was wholly didactic. We cannot wonder, then, if the appear-
ance of a poetry that was weighted with no overbearing moral,
or other purpose, produced a tremendous effect. We may be
prepared to understand the prodigious excitement caused by the
publication in 1760 of " The Works of Ossian the Son of Fingal,
translated from the Gaelic language by James Macpherson."
With all their magniloquence, they did not sermonise ; they
expressed some genuine feeling. Amidst all their affected cries
there was a true voice audible. Three years subsequently,
Bishop Percy, moved by Ossian 's popularity, published a transla-
tion from the Icelandic language of five pieces of Eunic poetry.

In the following year, 1764, appeared "Some Specimens of
the Poetry of the Ancient Welsh Bards translated into English,
with Explanatory Notes on the Historical Passages, and a short
Account of Men and Places mentioned by the Bards, in order

XX THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

to give the Curious some Idea of the Taste and Sentiments of
our Ancesters and their Manner of Writing, by the Bev. Mr.
Evan Evans, curate of Glanvair Talyhaern in Denbighshire"
— a work with which Gray was familiar. Shortly afterwards
appeared Gray's own translations, made from translations,
of Norse and Welsh pieces : " The Fatal Sisters," " The
Descent of Odin," « The Triumphs of Owen," and " The Death
of Hoel." About the time, then, of the appearance of the
Reliques in 1765, there was dispersed over the country some
slight knowledge of the old Celtic and of Scandinavian poetry.
And now the age was ripe for the reception of such a collec-
tion of old ballads as had been published some forty years, but
had then, after a short-lived circulation, fallen into neglect.
Thomas Percy, the son of a grocer at Bridgenorth, Shropshire,
a graduate of Oxford, vicar of Easton Maudit, Northampton-
shire, was by nature something of an antiquarian. When " very
young," he became possessed of a folio MS. of old ballads and
romances. " This Yery curious old MS." he says in a memo-
randum made in the old folio itself, " in its present mutilated
state, but unbound and sadly torn, I rescued from destruction,
and begged at the hands of my worthy friend Humphrey Pitt, Esq.
then living at Shiffnal in Shropshire, afterwards of Prior Lee
near that town ; who died very lately at Bath ; viz. in Summer
1769. I saw it lying dirty on the floor under a Bureau in y e
Parlour: being used by the maids to light the fire." " When I
first got possession of this MS." he sa}^ in another entry in the
same place, " I was very young, and being in no degree an
Antiquary, I had not then learnt to reverence it ; which must
be my excuse for the scribble which I then spread over some
parts of its margin ; and in one or two instances, for even
taking out the leaves, to save the trouble of transcribing. I
have since been more careful." Besides this famous folio, he
possessed also a quarto MS. volume of similar pieces, supposed

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXI

to be the same as one still in the hands of his family, and con-
taining only copies of printed poems. The folio has remained
in the hands of the Bishop's family in the greatest privacy
hitherto; Jamieson and Sir F. Madden being (I believe) the
only editors who have printed from it, though Dibdin was
allowed to catalogue part of it. It is now at last, as our readers
know, being printed just as it is. These volumes had in Percy
a (for that time) highly appreciative possessor. He determined
to introduce to the public some specimens of their contents.
This proposal was promoted by the sympathy of many then dis-
tinguished men: of Shenstone, Bird, Grainger, Steevens, Farmer,
and by others of still greater and more enduring note — Garrick
and Goldsmith. At last, in 1765 appeared Reliques of Ancient
English Poetry, consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and
other pieces of our earlier poets (chiefly of the Lyric kind)
together with some few of later date. The editor, even as the
editor of the collection of 1723, of whom Ave have spoken, has,
manifestly, some misgivings about the character of his protegees.
He is not quite sure how they will be received by his polite
contemporaries. He speaks of them, in his Dedication of his
volumes to the Countess of Northumberland (he was extremely
ambitious to connect himself with the great Percies of the
North), as "the rude songs of ancient minstrels," "the barbarous
productions of unpolished ages," and is troubled for fear lest he
should be guilty of some impropriety in hoping that they " can
obtain the approbation or the notice of her, who adorns courts
by her presence, and diffuses elegance by her example. But
this impropriety, it is presumed, will disappear when it is
declared that these poems are presented to your Ladyship, not as
labours of art but as effusions of nature, shewing the first efforts
of ancient genius, and exhibiting the customs and opinions of
remote ages." In his Preface he says that "as most of" the con-
tents of his folio MS. " are of great simplicity, and seem to have

XX11 THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

been merely written for the people, the possessor was long in
doubt, whether in the present state of improved literature they
could be deemed worthy the attention of the public. At length
the importunity of his friends prevailed." " In a polished age,
like the present, he adds, " I am sensible that many of these
reliques of antiquity will require great allowances to be made
for them. Yet have they, for the most part, a pleasing simpli-
city, and many artless graces, which in the opinion of no mean
critics [a foot-note cites Addison, Dryden, Lord Dorset &c, and
Selden] have been thought to compensate for the want of higher
beauties, and if they do not dazzle the imagination [Did " The
School-mistress," " The Sugar-cane," dazzle the imagination?]
are frequently found to interest the heart." Still more striking-
are the following words : " To atone for the rudeness of the more
obsolete poems, each volume concludes with a few modern
attempts in the same kind of writing." And then he buttresses
his volumes with eminent names — Shenstone, Thomas Warton,
Garrick, Johnson (we shall see presently how far Johnson was
likely to smile on his undertaking), which " names of so many
men of learning and character, the editor hopes will serve as an
amulet, to guard him from every unfavourable censure for
having bestowed any attention on a parcel of Old Ballads. It
was at the request of many of these gentlemen, and of others
eminent for their genius and taste, that this little work was
undertaken. To prepare it for the press has been the amuse-
ment of now and then a vacant hour amid the leisure and
retirement of rural life, and hath only served as a relaxation
from graver studies. It hath been taken up and thrown aside
for many months during an interval of four or five years." With
such apologies and antidotes did the Eeliques make their debut !
How strange — what a wonderful tale of altered taste it tells —
that in order to make " Chevy Chase," " E.dom o' Gordon,"
" Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard," endurable, to reconcile

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XX111

the reader to their rudeness, such charming chaperones should be
assigned them as " Bryan and Pereene, a West Indian ballad by
Dr. Grainger," " Jemmy Dawson, by Mr. Shenstone" ! "Bryan
and Pereene," " founded on a real fact," narrates how Pereene,
" the pride of Indian dames," went down to the sea-shore to meet
her lover, who, after an absence in England of one long long year
one month and day, was returning to St. Christopher's and his
mistress.

Soon as his well-known ship she spied

She cast her weeds away,
And to the palmy shore she hied

All in her best array.

In sea-green silk, so neatly clad
She there impatient stood ;

Bryan, seeing her in the said sea-green silk, impatient also,
leapt overboard in the hope of reaching her sooner.

The crew with wonder saw the lad
Kepell the foaming flood.

Her hands a handkerchief display'd,

Which he at parting gave ;
Well-pleas'd the token he survey'd,

And manlier beat the wave.

Her fair companions one and all

Rejoicing crowd the strand ;
For now her lover swam in call,

And almost touch'd the land.

Then through the white surf did she haste,

To clasp her lovely swain ;
"When ah ! a shark bit through his waist,

His heart's blood dy'd the main.

He shriek'd ! his half sprang from the wave,

Streaming with purple gore,
And soon it found a living grave,

And ah ! was seen no more.

xxiv THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

Now haste, now haste, ye maids, I pray,

Fetch water from the spring;
She falls, she swoons, she dies away,

And soon her knell they ring.

And so the doleful ditty ends with an injunction to the "fair,"
to strew her tomb with fresh flowerets every May morning, to
the end that they and their lovers may not come to similar
distress." Jemmy Dawson was one of the Manchester rebels
who took part in the '45, and was hanged, drawn, and quartered
on Kennington Common in 1746.

Their colours and their sash he wore,

And in the fatal dress was found ;
And now he must that death endure,

Which gives the brave the keenest wound.

How pale was then his true love's cheek,
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear ;

For never yet did Alpine snows,
.So pale, nor yet so chill appear.

With faltering voice she weeping said,

Oh ! Dawson, monarch of my heart,
Think not thy death shall end our loves,

For thou and I will never part.

Poor Kitty inflexibly witnesses his execution.

The dismal scene was o'er and past,

The lover's mournful hearse retir'd ;
The maid drew back her languid head,

And sighing forth his name expir'd.

Such were the pieces whose elegance was to make atonement
to the readers of a century ago, for the barbarousness of the
other components of the Rellques.

This barbarousness was further mitigated by an application
of a polishing process to the ballads themselves. Percy per-
formed the offices of a sort of tireman for them. He dressed
and adorned them to go into polite society. To how great an
extent he laboured in their service, is now at last manifested by
the publication of the Folio. The old MS. contained many

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXV

pieces which, it would seem, were considered hopeless. No
amount of manipulation could ever make them presentable.
It contained many pieces and many fragments — thanks to the
anxiety of Mr. Humphrey Pitt's servants to light his fires !—
which the art of the editorial refiner of the eighteenth century
deemed capable of adaptation ; and Percy adapted them. The
old ballads could reckon on no genuine sympathy. They were,
so to speak, the songs of Zion in a strange land.

Percy, as the extracts we have quoted from his Dedication

and Preface have shown, was not free from the prejudices of his

time. He was but slightly in advance of them ; but he was in

advance of them. He did recognise the power and beauty of

the old poetry, more deeply, perhaps, than he ever dared

confess. And, though unconscious of the greatness of the work

he was doing, did for us — for Europe' — an unutterable service.

He was, to the end, curiously unconscious of it. He had given

a deadly blow to a terrible giant, and freed many captives from

his thraldom, without knowing. Men are often reminded to be

delicately careful in their actions, because they know not what

harm they may do. They might sometimes be encouraged

by the thought that they know not what good they do.

Certainly Percy performed for English literature a far higher

service than he ever dreamt of. He always regarded the

Reliques as something rather frivolous. " I read ' Edwin and

Angelina' to Mr. Percy some years ago," writes Goldsmith, in

1767, to the printer of the St. James' Chronicle, who had

assigned Goldsmith's ballad to Percy, " and he (as we both

considered these things as trifles at best) told me, with his usual

goodhumour, the next time I saw him, that he had taken my

plan to form the fragments of Shakespeare into a ballad of his

own. He then read me his little cento, if I may so call

it, and I highly approved of it." " I am so little interested

about the amusements of my youth,'''' writes Percy to his

XXVI THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

publisher in 1794, " that, had it not been for the benefit of my
nephew, I could contentedly have let the Reliques of Ancient
Poetry remain unpublished." The great effect the memorable
work produced came " not with observation."

With all the consideration Percy showed for the prevailing
taste, he did not succeed in winning over to his support certain
great leaders of it. He was extremely solicitous to secure
the approval of the leader of the leaders of it — of that supreme
potentate, Dr. Johnson. In his Preface he twice mentions him :
first, as having urged him to publish a selection from the Folio
(" He could refuse nothing," he says, " to such judges as the
author of the Rambler, and the late Mr. Shenstone,") ; and
secondly, as having lightened his editorial task with his assist-
ance (" To the friendship of Mr. Johnson," he writes, " he owes
many valuable hints for the conduct of his work "). But, for all
these complimentary mentions, Johnson seems to have liked
neither the work nor its author, as may be seen in Boswell
again and again; thus: "The conversation having turned on
modern imitations of ancient ballads, and some one having
praised their simplicity, he treated them with that ridicule
which he always displayed when that subject was mentioned."
The 177th number of the Rambler gives a satirical account of a
Club of Antiquaries. Hirsute, we are told, had a passion for
black-letter books ; Ferratus for coins ; Ctiartophylax for
gazettes ; " Cantilenus turned all his thoughts upon old ballads,
for he considered them as the genuine records of the natural
taste. He offered to show me a copy of The Children of the
Wood, which he firmly believed to be of the first edition, and
by the help of which the text might be freed from several
corruptions, if this age of barbarity had any claim to such
favours from him." In his Life of Addison, after a sarcastic
reference to his Spectators on '" Chevy Chase," and Wagstaff's
ridicule of them, he adds, in modification of Dennis's reductio

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXvil

ad absiirdum of Addison's canon — that " Chevy Chase " pleases,
and ought to please, because it is natural — " In Chevy Chase
there is not much of either bombast or affectation, but there is
chill and lifeless imbecility. The story cannot possibly be told
in a manner that shall make less impression on the mind. 1 '
With what horror the ghost of Sir Philip Sidney must have
been struck if ever it was aware of this crushing dictum ! Still
more suggestive are his observations on another old ballad.
" The greatest of all his amorous essays," he remarks in his
Life of Prior, " is Henry and Emma — a dull and tedious
dialogue, which excites neither esteem for the man nor tender-
ness for the woman. The example of Emma, who resolves to
follow an outlawed murderer wherever fear and guilt shall drive
him, deserves no imitation [would Johnson have said that the
" Laocoon," or the " Venus de Medici," deserved an imitation ?
how could his critical rules have been applied to them ?], and
the experiment by which Henry tries the lady's constancy is
such as must end either in infamy to her or in disappointment
to himself." With these terrible sentences in our ear, let us
read these stanzas :

Though it be songe

Of old & yonge,

That I shold be to blame,

Theyrs be the charge
That speke so large
In hastynge of my name ;
For Iwyll prove
That faythfutte love,
It is devoyd of shame ;
In your dystresse,
And hevynesse,
To part with you the same;
And sure all tho
That do not so
True lovers are they none.
For in my mynde
Of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

XXV111 THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

■And, I thinke nat nay

But as ye say,
It is no mayden's lore ;
But love may make
Me for your sake,
As I have sayd before,
To come on foote
To hunt, to shote
To gete us mete in store ;
For so that I
Your companey
May have, I ask no more.
From which to part,
It makyth my hart
As colde as ony stone ;
For in my mynde
Of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

Read these high passionate words, and think of Johnson's
criticism. 1 He misses, evidently, the point of the poem — does
not see how one noble idea permeates and vivifies every line,
and glorifies the self-abandonment confessed.

Here may ye see

That women be

In love, meke, kynde, and stable ;

Late never man

Reprove them than,

Or call them variable ;

But rather pray

God that we may

To them be comfortable.

His criticism of the " Nut-brown Maid " makes his dislike of the
old ballads intelligible enough. We can understand now how
he came to despise and abuse them, and parody their form in
this wise : s

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

artist, 1733-1807, ) remark, cy;«d Nichols cards in the first print, by whom he is

and Steevens' Hogarth, on the seventh rescued in the fourth, who is present at

plate of the Rake's Progress : " The his marriage, who follows him into jail,

episode of the fainting woman might and lastly to Bedlam. The thought is

have given way to many circumstances rather unnatural, and the moral certainly

more proper to the occasion. This is culpable."

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXIX

The tender infant, meek and mild,

Fell down upon a stone ;
The nurse took up the squealing child,

But still the child squeal'd on.

Warburton, Hurd, and others heartily concurred in his opinion.
Warburton thought that the old ballads were utterly despicable
by the side of the exalted literature of his own and recent
times. He called them "specious funguses compared to the
oak."

But in the face of this contumely, looked down on and sneered
at by the learning and refinement of the age, the old ballads
grew dear to the heart of the nation. They stirred emotions
that had long lain dormant. They revived fires that had long
slumbered. The nation lay in prison like its old Troubadour
king ; in its durance it heard its minstrel singing beneath the
window its old songs, and its heart leapt in its bosom. It
recognised the well-known, though long-neglected, strains that
it had heard and loved in the days of its youth. The old love
revived. The captive could not at once cast off its fetters, and
go forth. But a yearning for liberty awoke in it ; a wild,
growing, passionate longing for liberty, for real, not artificial
flowers ; for true feeling, not sentimentalism ; for the fresh
life-giving breezes of the open country, not the languid airs
of enclosed courts.

As one who long in populous city pent,
Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air,
Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breathe
Among the pleasant villages and farms
Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight,
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine,
Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound,

.so did the nation issue forth from its confinement, and conceive
truer, more comprehensive jo} T s.

The publication of the Reliques, then, constitutes an epoch in
the history of the great revival of taste, in whose blessings we

XXX THE REVIVAL OF BALLAD POETRY

now participate. After 1765, before the end of the century,
numerous collections of old ballads, in Scotland and in England,
by Evans, Pinkerton, Hurd, Eitson, were made. The noble
reformation, that received so great an impulse in 1765, ad-
vanced thenceforward steadily. The taste that was awakened
never slumbered again. The recognition of our old life and
poetry that the Reliques gave, was at last gloriously confirmed
and established by Walter Scott. That great minstrel was
profoundly influenced by the Reliques, both directly and in-
directly, through Burger and others who had drunk deep of its
waters.

" Among the valuable acquisitions," says Scott in his Autobi-
ography, writing of his studies after his leaving Edinburgh High
School, " I made about this time, was an acquaintance with
Tasso's 'Jerusalem Delivered' through the flat medium of Mr.
Hoole's translation. But above all I then first became acquainted
with Bishop Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry . As I had been
from infancy devoted to legendary lore of this nature, and only
reluctantly withdrew my attention from the scarcity of materials
and the rudeness of those which I possessed, it may be imagined,
but cannot be described, with what delight I saw pieces of the
same kind whcih had amused my childhood, and still continued
in secret the Delilahs of my imagination, considered as the subject
of sober research, grave commentary, and apt illustration by an
editor who showed his practical genius was capable of emulating
the best qualities of what his pious labour preserved. I re-
member well the spot where I read these volumes for the first
time. It was beneath a huge plantaine tree, in the ruins of
what had been intended for an old-fashioned arbour in the
garden I have mentioned. The summer day sped onwards so
fast that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I
forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was
•still found entranced in my intellectual banquet. To read and

IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. XXXI

to remember was in this instance the same thing, and hence-
forth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows and all who would
hearken to me with tragical recitations from the ballads of
Bishop Percy. The first time too I could scrape a few shillings
together, which w T ere not common occurrences w T ith me, I bought
unto myself a copy of these beloved volumes; nor do I believe
I ever read a book half so frequently or with half the
enthusiasm."

XXX111

ON "BONDMAN,"

THE NAME AND THE CLASS,

WITH EEFERENCE TO THE BALLAD OF " JOHN DE REEUE.'

By F. J. FUENIVALL.

Johnson's definition of bondman is " a man slave." To it his
latest editor, Dr. Latham, puts neither addition nor qualification;
and the popular notion undoubtedly is, that whenever the word
is used, of Early English times or modern, a slave is understood,
one whose person, wife, children, and property, are wholly in
his owner's power. We have to ask how far this popular notion
is true with regard to our Bondmen, John de Reeue, Hobkin or
Hodgkin long, and Hob o' the Lathe, and their class.

I do not find the word bondman in English till about 1250
A.D., taking that as the date of the Owl arid Nightingale :

Moni chapmon and moni cniht
LuveJ> and halt ' his wif ariht ;
And swa de{? moni bondeman.
{Owl and Nightingale, 1. 1575, p. 49, ed. Stratmann, 1868.)

The earlier word was bonde, and the earliest the Anglo-Saxon
bonda, which Thorpe rightly derives and defines as follows in
his glossary to the Ancient Laivs :

Bonda, boor, paterfamilias. This word was probably introduced
by the Danes, and seems occasionally to have been used for ceorl •
its immediate derivation is from O. N. buandi, contracted to] bondi,
villicns, colonus qui foco utitur proprio ; part. pres. used substantively
of at bud. Goth, gabauan habitare ; modern Danish bonde, peasant,
husbandman.

Bosworth on the other hand defines Bonda as

1. One bound, a husband, householder. 2. A proprietor, husband-
man, boor : Bonde-land land held under restrictions, copyhold.

1 MS. Cot. Had.
VOL. II. C

XX XIV

ON " BONDMAN."

Whether ' one bound ' (as if from bond, and-a one who has ;
like ivced a garment, ivceda one who has a garment,) is the original
sense of the word, is more than doubtful ; and till the proof is
produced, I reject the meaning as original, 1 though no doubt
at a later period this sense prevailed over the Scandinavian
one. Mr. Wedgwood says under Husband :

From Old Norse bua (the equivalent of G. hanen, Du. boiven, to
till, cultivate, prepare) are bu a household, farm, cattle ; buandi,
bondi, 2 N\ bonds the possessor of a farm, husbandman ; husbond or

1 bondi (d. i. boandi = buandi, der
Sonde, freier Grundbcsitzer, Hausvater,
pi. bcendr mariti. — Mobius.

2 Mr. Cockayne says " The word Bond
bound has no existence but in Somner,
■whence others have copied it. Bos-
worth has built on Bond a guess, Bonda
one bound, which is a delusion. For
Bound, the true word is bunden, and for
a Bond, bend." Mr. Earle also rejects
the derivation from bond, and the mean-
ing " one bound." Mr. Thorpe says
that Ettmuller (p. 293) questions the
buandi, bondi derivation, but without
sufficient grounds, in Mr. Thorpe's
opinion. Haldorson accepts it " Bondi
m. paterfamilias (quasi boandi, buandi)
en Husfader, Husbande, L. Colonus,
ruricola, en Bonde, Storboendr prsedica-
tores (Bonds with a large house and
extensive ground), Smabcendr villici
(Bonds with a small house and little
yard)." Mr. Skeat notes " Bosworth also
gives Buend, bugend, bugigend, as mean-
ing an inhabitant, a farmer, from buan,
to dwell, cultivate. This comes nearer
to the Dan. and Sw. bonde as regards
etymology, though it is not so near in
form. Cf. A. -Sax. buan, Moeso-Goth.
bauan, gabauan, to dwell, bauains, a
dwelling-place. The G-. bauer, peasant,
is the Du. bocr, and our boor. It is
curious that the Du. bocr, as well as the
Sw. and Dan. bonde, signifies ' a pawn
at chess.' I do not see how you dis-
tinguish between A.-Sax. bonda and
A.-Sax. buend, unless you call the
former a Danish word. In modern
Danish the d is not sounded, and the o
has an oo sound, so that bonde is called
boon-ne (Lund's Danish Grammar)."

Professor Bosworth has kindly sent
me the following note in support of the

first meaning he assigns to bonda. It
unfortunately came too late — in conse-
quence of the illness of his aman-
uensis — to be worked up or noticed in
the text. " Bunda, bonda, an ; m. I.
A wedded or 'married man, a husband;
maritus, sponsus. II. The father or
head of a family, a householder ; pater-
familias, ceconomus. Then follow nu-
merous examples, in proof of these
meanings. I've gone over again all
the examples, and I have enlarged what
I had previously written, as to the
origin of ' Bunda, bonda,' and given the
detail in the following pages. — J. B."
" Every word has its history by which
its introduction and use are best ascer-
tained. Bede tells us [Bk. I, 25, 2,]
that Ethelbert king of Kent married a
Christian, Bertha, a Frankish princess.
The Queen prepared the way for the
friendly reception of Augustine and his
missionary followers, by Ethelbert in
a.d. 597, who was the first to found a
school in Kent, and wrote laws which
are said to be " asette on Augustinus
dsege," established in the time of Augus-
tine, between a.d. 597 and 604. The
cultivation and writing of Anglo Saxon
[Englisc] began with the conversion
of Ethelbert. Marriage, and the house-
hold arrangements depending upon it,
were regulated by the law of the
Church, and indigenous compound words
were formed to express that law : — thus
se law, divine law ; Cristes se Christi
lex, Bihte se legitimum matrimonium
Bd. 4, 5 — sew wedlock, marriage, sew-
boren lawfully bom, bom in wedlock —
sew-brica m. wedlock breaker, m. an adul-
terer, sew-brice /. an adultress, sew-
faest-mann marriage-fast-man a wedded
man, a husband ; sew-nian to wed, take

ON " BONDMAN."

XXXV

husband the master of the house. Dan. bonde peasant, countryman,
villager, clown.

Where the word occurs in the Anglo-Saxon Laws, Thorpe
translates it " proprietor," and then " husband," meaning " hus-
band who is a proprietor."

Swa ymbe friSes-bdte, swa parn bondan si selost, ~\ pam pedfan si
laSost. — jEthelredes Domas, vi. xxxii. 1

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

a wife— rew-nung wedding, marriage —
£§w-wif a wedded woman. — Hiis-bunda,
— bonda a house binder, husband, house-
holder. This expressive compound is
one of the oldest in the language. It
is found in the interpolated passage of
Matt. xx. between v. 28 and 29. The
passage is in all the Anglo-Saxon MSS.
of the Gospels, except the interlineary
glosses. The A.-Sax. is a literal ver-
sion of the Augustinian MS. in the Bod-
leian Library, Oxford [Codex, August.
857, B. 2, 14], from the Old Italic
version, from which the Latin Vulgate
of the Gospels was formed by St. Jerome
about a.d. 384. Though we do not
know the exact dates when the Gospels
were translated from Latin into A.-Sax.,
Cuthbert assures us that Bede finished
the last Gospel, St. John, on May 27,
735, [See Pref. to Goth, and A.-Sax.
Gos. Bos. p. ix-xii]. As the three pre-
ceding Gospels were most likely trans-
lated before St. John, then the follow-
ing sentence was written before 735, Se
hus-bonda [hiis-bunda in MS. Camb. Ii.
2, 11,] hate £e arisan and ryman ?am
ofcrum, the householder bid thee rise and
make room for the other. Notes to Bos-
worth's Goth, and A.-Sax. Gos. Mt. xx.
28 ; p. 576. Hus-bonda is also used
by Elfric in his version of the Scrip-
tures about 970 [Ex. 3, 22.] Bunda,
bonda one wedded or bound, a husband,
from bindan ; p. band, bundon ; pp.
bunden ; to bind, must have been of
earlier origin than the compound hus-
bunda. It is a well-known rule that in
A.-Sax. a person or agent is denoted by

adding a,* as bytl a hamm<r, bytla a
hammerer, anweald ride, government,
anwealda a rider, governor, — bunden,
bund bound, bunda, bonda one bound,
a husband. Bunda might be banda, as
well as bonda, for a is often used for o,
as monn for mann a man. The early
use of hiis-buDda, -bonda would at once
indicate, that it was not likely to be of
Norse or Icelandic origin. It could not
be derived from the Norse biia to dwell,
part, buandi boandi dwelling, nor even
from the cognate A.-Sax. biian to dwell,
because the ii and 6 are long in the
Norse bua to dwell, buandi, boandi
dwelling, and the A.-Setx. biian to dwell,
buende dwelling, biiend, biienda a
dwelUr, while the ii and o are always
short in bunda and bonda. So in other
compounds from bindan to bind, as
bunde-land bond or leased land, land let
on binding conditions. Bunda then is
a pure Anglo-Saxon word, derived from
bindan to bind. Biian to dwell, with the
part, buende dwelling, and the noun
biiend, es ; m. a dweller, is quite a dis-
tinct word. Buend has its own numer-
ous compounds ; as, — Land-biiend a land
dweller, a farmer; agricola. An-buend
one dwelling alone, a hermit ; ceaster-,
eg-, eorp-, feor-, fold-, grand-, her-, ig-,
land-, neah-, sund-, worulcl- and beod-
biiend."

1 Ethelred, son of Edgar, succeeded to
the throne, on the murder of his brother
Edward, in the year 978, and died in
1016. — Thorpe's note in Laws and List,
of England, vol. i. p. 280.

* To a substantive, not a verb or participle. — F.
c 2

XXXVI ON " BONDMAN.

Again, in the same sentence nearly repeated in Cnutes Domas,
viii. (Canute died 12 Nov. 1035) " bam bondan, for the pro-
prietor" p. 380-1. At p. 414-15, Cnutes Domas, lxxiii.

Conjux incolat eandem Sedem quam Maritus.
LXXIII. And f aer se bonda saet unwyd -j unbecrafod, sitte f wif 3
fa cild on fan ylcan unbesacen. And gif se &on^<x ser he dead wsere,
beclypod wsere, f onne andwyrdan fa yrfennman, swa he sylf sceolde
f eah he lif hasfde.

And where the husband dwelt without claim or contest, let the wife
and the children dwell in the same, nnassailed by litigation. And
if the husband, before he was dead, had been cited, then let the heirs
answer, as himself should have done if he had lived.

So the Laws of King Henry the First (who reigned 1100-35
A.D.), repeating the last provision, say :

§ 5 Et ubi bunda manserit sine calumpnia, sint uxor et pueri in
eodem, sine querela &c. — Ancient Laivs, i. 526.

In 1048 a.d. the Saxon Chronicle uses bunda for a house-
holding cultivator or farmer :

Da he [Eustatius] waes sume mila oSSe mare beheonan Dofran .
fa dyde he on his byrnan . and his ge-feran ealle . and foran to
Dofran . fa hi fider comon . fa woldon hi innian hi f asr heom sylfan
gelicode . fa com an his manna . and wolde wician set anes bundan 1 .
huse, his unSances . and gewundode f one liusbundon . and se hus-
bnnda 2 ofsloh f one oSerne. Da weard Eustathts uppon his horse .
and his ge-feoran uppon heora . and ferdon to f a,n liusbundon . and
ofslogon hine binnan his agenan heorcSse . and wendon him fa up to
f sere burge- weard . and ofslogon aegfter ge wiSinnan ge wiSutan . ma
fanne xx manna. — Saxon Chronicle, ed. Earle, p. 177 (a.d. 1048.)

When he [Eustathius] was some miles or more beyond Dover,
then put he on his armour, and all his companions (did likewise),
and went to Dover. When they came thither, then would they
lodge where they pleased. Then came one of his men, and would,
dwell at the house of a cultivator (or householder) against his will,
and wounded the cultivator ; and the cultivator slew the other.
Then Eustathius got upon his horse, and his companions on theirs,
and went to the cultivator, and slew him within his own hearth ; and

1 bundan, gen. sing, good man, 1048. plode the " moral-etymology " of a hus-
Glossarial Index. band being so called because he is the

2 The equivalence of the husbunda band or binder-together of the house,
with the bunda here is enough to ex- even if Dr. Hosworth be right.

ON " BONDMAN." XXXvii

went then up to the guard of the city, and slew both within and
without more than 20 men,

In a passage in HI ekes the (no doubt) free bunda, paying a
fine, is contrasted with the thrcell who gets a flogging :

And jif hwa Sis ne gelasste . )>onne gebete he f swa swa hit jelajod
is . bunda mid xxx pen. Artel mid his hyde . J'ejn mid xxx scill. — From
Hickes's Dissertatio Epistolaris, p. 108.

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

Thus far then the evidence — for I do not admit Bosworth's
" one bound " as right — points to the boncle being a freeman,
and if not a landed proprietor, still a free tenant. The evidence
of the freedom is strengthened if we may regard the Danish-
named boncle as a Saxon-named churl — the name of one
seeming to be used for the other, as Mr. Thorpe observes, for
the ceorla was a free man, the " ordinary freeman " of Anglo-
Saxon society, though obliged by " the feudal system " which
" may be traced throughout all Anglo-Saxon history, to provide
himself with a lord, that he might be amenable to justice when
called upon." 1 Still, this vassalage was no bondage in the later or
the modern sense of the term ; the vassal churl was a freeman
still, if we may trust Heywood.

In Alfred's time, and later, the ceorl had slaves. Sec. 25 of
Alfred's Laws (translated) is :

If a man commit a rape upon a ceorVs female slave (mennen), let
him make hot (amends) to the ceorl with 5 shillings, and let the
wite (fine) he 60 shillings. Auc. Laws, i. 79.

The A.-S. laws of Eanks enact that,

if a ceorl thrived, so that he had fully five hides of his own land,
church and kitchen, bell-house, and " burh"-gate-seat, and special
duty in the king's hall, then was he thenceforth of thane-right
worthy. — Anc. Laws, i. 191.

Thorpe defines ceorl thus :

Ceorl. O.H.G. charal. A freeman of ignoble rank, a churl, twy-
hinde man, villanus, illiberalis.

Tioyliynde (Man), a man whose ' w&r-gild? was 200 shillings.
This was the lowest class of Anglo-Saxon aristocracy. Twelf-hynde

1 Hey wood's Distinctions in Society. 18 IS, p. 325.

XXXViii ON "BONDMAN."

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

The slave was a \rcd or ]>eow. Mr. Thorpe considers Iprail
to be a Scandinavian word.

Next comes the question, did these bondes or ceorls continue
free till the time of the Conquest ? Kemble says not :

' Finally, the nobles-by-birth themselves beoame absorbed in the
ever- widening whirlpool ; day by day the freemen, deprived of their
old national defences, wringing with difficulty a precarious sub-
sistence from incessant labotu', sullenly yielded to a yoke which they
could not shake off, and commended themselves (such was the
phrase) to the protection of a lord ; till a complete change having
tlms been operated in the opinions of men, and consequently in
every relation of society, a new order of things was consummated,
in which the honours and security of service became more anxiously
desired than a needy and unsafe freedom ; and the alods being
finally surrendered, to be taken back as beneficia, under mediate lords,
the foundations of the royal, feudal system were securely laid on
every side. — Kemble, The Saxons in England, vol. i. p. 184.

The very curious and instructive dialogue of ^Elfric numbers
among the serfs the y ruling or ploughman, 1 whose occupation the
author nevertheless places at the head of all the crafts, with per-
haps a partial exception in favour of the smith's. — Ibid. p. 216.

Mr. C. H. Pearson also says not :

Not only were slaves increasing, but freemen were disappearing.
The ceorl is never mentioned in our laws after Edward the elder's
time. If he became the villan of a later period, he was already
semi-servile before the Norman conquest. If he passed into the
freeman, 2 sometimes holding in his own right, and sometimes under
a lord's protection, the class did not number 5 per cent, of the
population at the time when Domesday was compiled, was virtually
confined to Norfolk and Suffolk, and had not even a representative
in the counties south of the Thames. It is evident that the bulk of
the Saxon people was in no proper sense, and at no time free. Even
the free in name were virtually bound down to the soil with the
possession of which their rights were connected, and from which
their subsistence was derived ; . . . the idea that any man might go
where he would, live as he liked, think or express his thoughts
freely, would have been repugnant to the whole tenour of a con-
stitution which started from the Old Testament as a model, pre-
served or incorporated the traditions of Roman law, and regarded
the regulation of life as the duty of the legislator.

1 This should be compared with the 2 Had he not always been free?

second extract from Havdok below.

ON " BONDMAN." XXXIX

The mention of villan brings us to the Conquest 1 and to Domes-
day-book. On every page of the latter villani are mentioned,
and the articles of enquiry for the composition of it show that
the enquiry into the population and property of each district
" was conducted by the king's barons, upon the oaths of the
sheriff of each county, and all the barons, and their French-born
vassals, and of the hundredary (reeve of the hundred), priest,
steward, and six villeins of every vill" &c. (Heywood, p. 290,
note). The question for us is, are we to take as free men or not
these villans, who were to help in settling what "served for cen-
turies as the basis of all taxation, and the authority by which all
disputes about landed tenures and customs were decided," who
were to state fi on oath what amount of land there was in the
district, whether it was wood, meadow, or pasture, what was its
value, what services were due from its owners ; and generally the
numbers of free and bond on the estate " (Pearson, i. 374).

The arguments of Serjeant Heywood for the identity 2 of the
villein with the ceorl or twihynde man seem to me very strong
indeed ; and Mr. Pearson tells me that in the earlier use of the
word villanus, the first which he knows, — namely, that in the
preamble to the Decree of the Bishops and Witan of Kent
about keeping the peace under Athelstan, which speaks of
Thaini, Comites, et Villani,, — he thinks that " villan " means
" ceorl " very literally.

Serjeant Heywood first shows that the Textus Roffensis, in
explaining a passage from the Judicia Civitatis Lunclonice like
that quoted above from the Anglo-Saxon Laws 3 " makes it

' Of the name viUa?msSevjt. Heywood ranks of society as freemon, socmen,

says, " I have not met with it in any and perhaps in some cases bordars and

authentic documents till about the time cottars. It must be remembered that

of the Conquest, but it is found in the the Eectitudines Singidarum Pcrsona-

laws of Edward the Confessor, William rum use the word villanus to translate

the Concpueror, and Henry the first. the Saxon geneat, and that the word

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

descriptive of persons engaged in hus- ment."

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

tunesmen, landsmen, &c, but the pro- cpiondam in legibus Anglorum ea gens

per appellation for a villan has not et lex pro honoribus, et ibi erant sapi»

been ascertained." — Pp. 290-1. But entes populi honore digni, quilibet pro

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

2 Mr. Pearson says we must " under- rusticus (eorl and ceorl, thegen and

stand it with the reservation that while thcowen).

the vast majority of the ceorl class had Et si colonus tamen sit, qui habeat

degraded into the position of villans, integras quinque hydas terra?, ecelesiam

others were distributed in the different et culinam, turrim sacram {bill hus) et

xl ON " BONDMAN."

relate to villan and not to ceorls (L. coloni\ whence we may infer
that the author considered them as the same persons " (Disser-
tation, p. 185). He next shows that the eighth law of William
the Conqueror, which makes the were of a villan only 100
shillings, was probably wrongly transcribed ; and that the seven-
tieth law of Henry I. expressly defines the free twihind as a
villan : — " the were of a twihind, that is, a villan, is five pounds :
twyhindi, i. villani, ivera est IV lib';" — and the 76th law
classes the twihinds among the free men. Also that

in other parts of the laws, villans are ranked with ceorls and twihinds.
Moreover the weres of a cyrlisc man & [that is, or] a villan are ex-
pressly mentioned, and required to be regulated in the same manner
as that of a twelfhind. 1 — Heyioood, p. 295.

Another proof may be adduced from their being liable to the pay-
ment of reliefs which never were called for from the servile class.
When, therefore, provision was made in the laws of William the
Conqueror for the exaction of a relief from every villan, of his best
beast, whether a horse, an ox, or a cow, we must conclude that, at
the time of compiling those laws, namely, about four years after the
Conquest, a villan was a freeman,

and this notwithstanding the concluding words of the law, et
postm sint omnes villani in franco plegio, which must be
taken as confirming an old truth, for the payment of one relief
— which villans before the Conquest had paid — could not have
turned an unfree man into a free one. Serjeant Hey wood adds :

Another powerful argument in favor of the supposition that villans
ranked among freemen, arises from the consideration that, unless
this had been the case, the bulk of the population of England must
have been found in the servile class. We cannot imagine that the
farmers, who held at the payment of rent, either in money or kind,
could be so very numerous as to furnish victuals for the armies which
were collected, provide members for all the tythings, and crowd the
public assemblies which were held for judicial purposes. But upon
the demesne lands of almost every lord, villans might be found, and if
they were admitted to bear the name, and partake of the privileges
of freemen, and rank with ceorls or twihinds, the difficulty vanishes
(p. 300).

atrii sedem (Imrhgeat sctl) ac officium habere quinque hidas de suo proprio

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

(th'-gen rihtas) dignus. — Hcgwood, p. vel villani wera fieri debet secundum

184. Text. Boff. 46 has for colonits of modum suum, sicnt de duodecies cen-

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

crevisset sua probitate, quod pleniter 270, in Hcywood, p. 295 n.

ON "BONDMAN." xli

Professor Pearson looks on the villans as ' bond upon bond
land,' and as to the numbers of them and the freemen and the
population generally at Domesday, gives Sir Henry Ellis's and
Sir James Macintosh's calculations as follows :

We may probably place it [the population] at rather over than
under 1,800,000 ; a number which may seem small, but which was not
doubled till the reign of Charles II., six hundred years later. Re-
verting to the actual survey, we find about two thousand persons
who held immediately of the king (E 1400, M 1599), or who were
attached to the king's person (M 326), or who had no holding, but
were free to serve as they would (M 213). The second class, the
free upon bond-land, comprised more than 50,000 ; under-tenants or
vavasors (E 7171, M 2899) ; burghers (E 7968, M 17,105); socmen
(E 23,072, M 23,404) ; freemen, holding by military service, or
having been degraded into tenants to obtain protection (E 14,284) ;
and ecclesiastics (E 994, M 1564). The largest class of all was the
semi-servile. Of these villeins (E 108,407, M 102,704), and bordars, 1
or cottiers (E 88,922, M 80,320), make up the mass, about 200,000
in all. They were bond upon bond-land, that is to say, their land
owed a certain tribute to its owner, and they owed certain services
to the land ; they could not quit it without permission from their
lord. But they were not mere property; they could not be sold off
the soil into service of a different kind, like the few slaves who still
remained in England, and who numbered roughly about 25,000.

The large number of the middle classes, and the small number of
slaves, are points in this estimate that deserve consideration. It is
clear that the conquest did not introduce any new refinement in ser-
vitude. In a matter where we have no certain data, all statements
must be made guardedly ; but the language of chroniclers and laws,
and the probabilities of what would result from the anarchy and war
that had so long desolated England under its native kings induce a
belief that the conquest was a gain to all classes, except the highest,
in matters of freedom. In Essex the number of freemen positively
increased, and the change may probably be ascribed to the growing
wool-trade with Flanders, as we find sheep multiplying on the great
estates, and with the change from arable to pasture-land fewer labour-
ers would be required. The fact that the large and privileged class of
soc-men was especially numerous in two counties, Norfolk and Suffolk,
in which a desperate revolt had been pitilessly put down, seems to
show that existing rights were not lightly tampered with. In Bed-
fordshire, however, the soc-men were degraded to serfs, probably
through the lawless dealing of its Angevine sheriff, Raoul Taillebois,
and the county accordingly fell off in rental beyond any other in

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

xlii ON "BONDMAN."

England south of Humber, though it Lad enjoyed a singular ex-
emption from all the ravages of war.

The concluding paragraph of the foregoing extract is printed
because in it is, forme, pointed out the true cause of the villan's
hardships, of the exactions of which his class so bitterly com-
plained, the character of the Norman baron, and his power over
his dependants. The thirtieth law of Henry I. speaks in mode-
rated phrase the spirit of the earlier time. It calls the villans
with the cocseti and pardingi (probably bondmen inferior to
the villans) hujusmodi viles vel inopes personal, declares them
disqualified to be reckoned among judges, excludes them from
bringing any civil suits in the county or hundred courts, and
refers them, for the redress of injuries, to the courts of their
own barons (Hey wood, p. 291). 1

And it is (I believe) precisely because Edward I. made a
resolute attempt to break down this power of the barons over
their villans, 2 which must have often been awfully abused, — and
not only tried to, but did to some extent substitute his own
judges' court for the barons' one 3 — thereby rescuing many a
villan from a bondman's fate ; it is for this reason that he is
the hero of our ballad of John de Reeve. Not only for the
long shanks with which he strode against Wales, or the hammer
he wielded against Scotland, was the first king who conceived
and fought for the unity of Great Britain dear to the villans of

1 Villani vero, vel cocseti vel pardingi inquiries of this Commission the first
vel qui sunt hujusmodi viles vel inopes chapter of the Statute of Gloucester,
personse, non sunt inter legum judices relating to Liberties, Franchises and Quo
numerandi, unde nee in hundredo vel Warranto (by what warrant the Parties
comitatu pecuniam suam, vel domino- held or claimed) was founded (ib.).
rum suorum forisfaciunt, si jnstitiam 3 See below, and also the Statute of
sine judicio dimittant, sed summonitis 4 Edw. I. A Statute concerning Jus-
terrarum dominis inforcietur placitum tices being assigned, called Bageman.
termino competent!, si fuerint vel non " It is accorded by our Lord the King,
fuerint antea summoniti cum secuti jus and by his Council, that Justices shall
Ee&timatis. — LI. Hen. i.e. 30; Wilkins, 248, go throughout the Land to inquire, hear,
in Hcywood, p. 292. and determine all the Complaints and

2 One of the first Acts of his (Edward Suits for Trespasses committed within
I.'s) Administration, after his Arrival these twenty-five years past, before the
from the Holy Land, was to inquire into Feast of Saint Michael, in the fourth
the State of the Demesnes, and of the year of King Edward ; as well by the
Eights and Eevenues of the Crown, and King's Bailiffs & Officers as by other
concerning the Conduct of the Sheriffs Bailiffs, & by all other Persons whom-
and other Officers and Ministers, who soever. And this is to be understood
had defrauded the King and grievously as well of outrageous Takings, and all
oppressed the People (Annals of Waver- Manner of Trespasses, Quarrels, and
ley, 235) Hundred Bolls, i. 10. On the Offences done unto the King and othors,

ON " BONDMAN. xliii

his own ' and after times. His steps and his blows came nearer
their homes, and did something to clear oppressors out of their
path. When in easier days they could sing of olden time, they
gave the long king a merry night with three of their kin, and
remembered with gratitude England's u first thoroughly consti-
tutional " sovereign. This I gather from one of a series of
interesting articles on the " Eights, Disabilities, and Wages of
the English Peasantry " in the new Series of the Law Maga-
zine and Review. But I am anticipating.

In the time of Edward I. bondage was looked upon as no part of
the common law ; it existed by sufferance and by local usage, and
was recognised^ but only barely tolerated by the law. The law was
on the side of freedom. A leaper or land-loper, as a fugitive was
called, could rarely be recovered in a summary manner ; if he chose
to deny his bondage, the writ of niefty did not give the Sheriff autho-
rity to seize him ; the question of his condition had to stand over until
the Assizes, or had to be argued in the Court of Common Pleas. —
Law Mag. 1862, vol. xiii, p. 38-9.

We need not attribute a long range of foresight, or very enlight-
ened views of freedom, to the counsellors of Edward I. Their re-
sistance to villenage was instinctive rather than deliberate. Yillen-
age in their eyes appeared to be a consequence of those powers of
local jurisdiction which had been indispensable in former times on
account of the weakness of the central power, but were no longer
wanted since the central power had become truly imperial. The
same landlords who claimed a right to keep their dependents in
bondage, usually claimed some degree of judicial power ; they
claimed to have a more or less extensive cognizance over crimes
committed, and criminals arrested within their precincts. Such a
claim could only rest upon prescription ; any such pretension not

touched in the Inquests heretofore found Gloucester or Quo Warranto of 6

by the King's command, as of Trespasses Edw. I.

committed since. And the King willeth, " And the Sheriffs shall cause it to be

that for Relief of the People {pour le commonly proclaimed throughout their

allcgaunce del poeple) and speedy execu- Bailliwicks, that is to say, in Cities,

tion of Justice, That the Complaints Boroughs, Market towns, and else-

of every one be heard before the afore- where, that all those who claim to have

said Justices, & determined, as well by any Franchises, by the Charters of the

Writ as without, according to the Arti- King's Predecessors, Kings of England,

cles delivered unto the same Justices ; or in other manner, shall come before

& this is to be understood as well withiu the King, or before the Justices in

Franchise as without. Also the King Eyre, at a certain day and place, to show

willeth that the same Justices do hear what sort of Franchise they claim to

and determine the Complaints of those have, and by what Warrant."

who will complain of Matters done by ' I do not forget the groans of " The

any one contrary to the King's Statutes, Song of the Husbandman " (temp,

as well of what concerneth the King as Edw. I.) printed in Wright's Political

the people." See also the Statutes of Sotigs for the Camden Society.

xliv ON " BONDMAN."

supported by immemorial usage would soon be upset by the King's
attorney. The general Government struggled hard to extend its
jurisdiction, to extinguish the private courts, to bring as many cases
as possible before the Courts at Westminster, and before the Justices
in Eyre. The private courts were not abolished, but gradually
superseded. After all that the lords could do to keep their villeins
from Assizes, villeins constantly became jurors, and bond-lands were
constantly drawn into the King's Courts, and were thus in the way
to be drawn into freeholds. Perhaps every circuit of the judges
emancipated a number of bondmen. — lb. p. 40.

In seeking for the light in which the Norman baron would
regard his Saxon villans, I think that Mr. Thomas Wright l is
justified in his adduction of the following instances,

The chronicler Benoit (as well as his rival Wace) extols Duke
Richard II. for the hatred which he bore towards the agricultural
or servile class : " he would suffer none but knights to have employ-
ment in his house ; never was a villan or one of rustic blood ad-
mitted into his intimacy ; for the villan, forsooth, is always han-
kering after the filth in which he was bred." — p. 237,

]>e )>ridde cume'5 efter, & is The third flatterer cometh

wurst fikelare, ase ich er seide : after, and is the worse, as I said

vor he preiseS f>ene vuele, & before, for he praiseth the wicked

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

]>e knihte ]>et robbed his poirre said to the knight that robbed his

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

wel. Uor euere me schal J^ene thou doest well. For men ought

cheorl pilken & peolien : uor ahvays to pluck and pillage the

he is ase ]>e wioi, J>et sprutteft churl ; for he is like the willow,

ut ]>e betere ]>cet me hine ofte which sprouteth out the better

cropped." that it is often cropped.

— Ancren Riwle (? ab. 1230 a.d.) p. 87, Camden Soc. 1853 (quoted
in part by Wright).

and in referring to those most interesting Norman-French
satires on the villans that M. Francisque Michel published, and
which contain such passages as the following :

Que Diex lor envoit grant meschief,
Et mal au cuer, et mal au chief,
Mai es bouche, et pis es dens,
Et mal dehors, et mal dedens . . .
Et le mal c'on dist ne-me-touehe,
Mal en orelle. et mal en bouche !

(Dcs XXIII ManUres de Vilains, Paris, 1833, p. 12.)

1 Paper on the political condition of Middle Ages, in Archceoloyict, vol. xxx.
the English Peasantry during the p. 205-44.

ON " BONDMAN." xlv

" Why should villans eat beef, or any dainty food ? " inquires the
writer of Le Despit au Vilain ; "they ought to eat, for their Sunday
diet, nettles, reeds, briars, and straw, while pea shells are good
enough for their every-day food. . . . They ought to go forth naked,
on bare feet in the meadows to eat grass with the horned oxen. . . .
The share of the villan is folly, and sottishness and filth ; if all the
goods and all the gold of this world were his, the villan would be
but a villan still."— Wright, p. 238. 1

Though Mr. Wright's conclusion as to " the condition of the
English peasant or villan during the 12th, 13th, and 14th cen-
turies " may be exaggerated, yet much truth in it there must be :

Tied to the ground on which he was born in a state of galling
bondage, exposed to daily insult and oppression, he served a master
who was a stranger to him both by blood and language. The object
of his lord's extortions, frequently plundered with impunity, and
heavily taxed by the king, he received in return only an imperfect
and precarious security for his person or his property. The villan
was virtually an outlaw ; he could not legally inherit or hold " lord-
ship," and he could bring no action, and, as it appears, give no testi-
mony in a court of law. He was not even capable of giving educa-
tion to his children, or of putting them to a trade, unless he had
previously been able to obtain or purchase their freedom, which
depended on his own pecuniary means, and on the will and caprice
of the lord of the soil.

All Norman barons were not brutes of the Ivo Taillebois 2
type, but I look on it as certain that the bitter cry of the villans
which reaches us from the pages of the old chroniclers and
writers is not a mere bit of rhetoric, but speaks what the villans
and poor really suffered and felt.

I also look to the generations immediately succeeding the
Conquest for the growth of the legal view of villanage and its
consequences which is stated by Littleton (ab. 1480 a.d.) and

1 On the property needed for a Nor- and as the Chronicle declares, " he
man villan to marry on, see the tract twisted, crashed, tortured, tore, impri-
De I' Oustillenient cm Villain (xiii e siecle) soned and excruciated them." See also
Paris 1863. Henry of Huntingdon's account of

2 He was one of the most cruel and Robert de Belesme, Earl of Shropshire,
hateful scoundrels who ever defaced " He preferred the slaughter of his cap-
God's earth. He used to make the tives to their ransom. He tore out the
poor Saxons serve him on bended knee, eyes of his own children, when in sport
and then in requital burned their houses, they hid their faces under his cloak,
drowned their cattle, and set his bull- He impaled persons of both sexes on
dogs to torment them. With diabolical stakes. To butcher men in the most
cruelty he made them incapable of work horrible manner was to him an agree-
by breaking their limbs and backs ; — able feast." (Faivar.)

xlvi ON " BONDMAN.'

Coke, among' others, from Bracton, Fleta, &c. and which justi-
fied any amount of rapacity and exaction on the part of the
feudal superior. There were two classes of villans, 1. regardant,
attached to the soil of a manor, and sold with it like a cowshed
or an ox, but seemingly not liable to be removed from it, though
Littleton's words allow the removal ; 2. in gross, landless, and
attached to the person of a lord, and saleable or grantable to
another lord, like a chattel.

Littleton translated (ed. 1813). § 181. Also there is a villein re-
gardant, and a villein in gross. A villein regardant is, as if a man
be seised of a manor to which a villein is regardant, and he which
is seised of the said manor, or they whose estate be both in the
same manor, have been seised of the villein and of his ancestors
as villeins and neifs ! regardant to the same manor, time out of
memory of man. And villein in gross is where a man is seised of
a manor, whereunto a villein is regardant, and granteth the same
villein by his deed to another ; then he is a villein in gross, and not
regardant.

§ 172. Tennre in villenage, is most properly when a villein
holcleth of his lord, to whom he is a villein, certain lands or tene-
ments according to the custom of the manor, or otherwise at the
will of his lord, and to do his lord villein service, as to carry and
recarry the dung of his lord ont of the city, or out of his lord's
manor, unto the land of his lord, and to spread the same upon the
land, and such like.

*■>

Or as Coke puts it, fol. 120 b.

He is called regardant to the mannour, because he had the
charge to do all base or villenous services within the same, and to
gard and keepe the same from all filthie or loathsome things that
might annoy it : and his service is not certaine, but he must have
regard to that which is commanded unto him. And therefore he
is called regardant, a quo prcestandum servitium incertum et inde-
terminatum, ubi scire non potuit vesjoere quale servitium fieri debet
mane, viz. ubi qtcis facer e tenetur quicquid ei prceceptum fuerit
(Bract, li. 2, fo. 26, Mir. ca. 2, sect. 12) as before hath beene ob-
served (vid. sect. 84).

He says also at fol. 121 b.

Tilings incorporeall which lye in grant, as advowsons, villeins,
commons, and the like, many be appendant to things corporeall,
as a mannour, house, or lands.

As illustrations of the truth and the working of these legal
1 A woman which is villein is called a neif, § 186.

ON " BONDMAN." xlvii

doctrines, take the following instances out of many. About
1250 a.d., says Mr. Wright in Arckaeol. vol. xxx, quoting
Madox's Formulare Anglicanum 318-418,

The abbot and convent of Bruerne sold " Hugh the shepherd,
their naif or viUan of Certelle, with all his chattels and all his
progeny, for 4s. sterling; " and the abbot bought of Matilda, relict
of John the physician, for 20s., " Richard, son of William de
Estende of Linharn, her viUan, with all his chattels and all his
progeny;" and for half a mark of silver, a villan of Philip de
Mandeville " with all his chattels and all his progeny."
; Early in Henry III. (1216-72 A.d. his reign) Walter de Beau-
champ granted by charter " all the land which Richard de Grafton
held of him, and Richard himself, with all his offspring." . . In
1317 Roger de Felton gave to Geoffry Foune certain lands, tene-
ments &c. in the town and territory of Glanton, " with all his
villans in the same town, and with their chattels and offspring."

We may also note the dictum of CoweFs Institutes: " Villaines
are not to marry without consent of their patrons." — W. Cr.'s
translation, 1651, p. 24.

But the sharpest pinch of the matter lay in the theory — and
practice often, I do not doubt — that all the villan's goods were his
lord's, 1 that whatever the lord took from him, he had no remedy
against the lord for.

Sect. 189, fol. 123 b. Also, every villein is able and free to sue all
manner of actions against everie person, except against his lord, to
whom he is villeine.

On which Coke says :

For a villeine shall not have an appeale of robberie against his
lord, for that he may lawfully take the goods of the villeine as his
own (18 Edw. 3, 32 ; 11 Hen. 4, 93 ; 1 Hen. 4, 6 ; 29 Hen. 6, tit.
Coron. 17). And there is no diversitie herein, whether he be a
vilein regardant or in grosse, although some have said the contrary.

And look at what early book you will, — Homilies, Political
Songs, Robert of Brunne 2 , Chaucer, Gower, &c. — if it touches
the subject at all, you are sure to find the lords' and their
stewards' arbitrary extortions complained of and reproved.

Before quitting this branch of the subject it may be well to
quote on it the words of the editor of Domesday, Sir Henry

1 Cp. the extract from Chaucer, p. 2 See the quotation from his Hand-

554-5 below. lyJig Synne below.

xlviii on "eondman. v

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

There are, however, numerous entries in the Domesday Survey
which indicate the Villani of that period to have been very different
from Bondmen. They appear to have answered to the Saxon
Ceorls, while the Servi answered to the Deowas or Esnen. By a
degradation of the Ceorls and an improvement in the state of the
Esnen, the two classes were brought gradually nearer together, till
at last the military oppression of the Normans thrusting down all
degrees of tenants and servants into one common slavery, or at
least into strict dependance, one name was adopted for both of them
as a generic term, that of Villeins regardant.

The next questions are, how long were the words bonde and
bondman used for the villan class ; and when did their bondage
cease ; or at least, did it continue, and if so, with what amelior-
ation did it continue, up to the time when our ballad may be
supposed to have been written ?

As the names require extracts, the two questions may be
treated together.

Archdeacon Hale, writing of the land and villans of the
Priory of St. Mary's, Worcester, in or about 1240 a.d. says:

The quantity of land in villenage in each manor being fixed, and
the quantity of labour due from it fixed also, it follows that the
lords of manors were not arbitrary masters who had unlimited
power over the person and property of these tenants. There is,
however, too much reason to believe that, taking into account the
labour of various kinds to which the holder of a small quantity of
villan land was liable, he paid what was equivalent to a high rent.
His position as a holder of land, which would descend to his family,
was superior to that of the modern labourer ; and yet he might not
be better off in a pecuniary point of view. His place in society
was marked also by the obligation to give " Thac et Thol, auxilium
et merchet, et in obitu melius catallum." (Thac was " Pig-money,
a payment made by the villans to the lord in the autumn for
every pig (the sows excepted), of a year old one penny, and under the
year a halfpenny. Thol, the Penny paid by the villans for licence
to sell a horse or ox." Hale, p. xx, xli. On Thol, see also p. lii.)

This fixity of rent, and Professor Kogers's pleasant view of
things, make one side of the question; the legal power of the
lord over all his villan's property, and the exactions out of him
complained of by preachers, poets, and writers, the other.

In Layamon the word bonde is used once, in the de-

on "bondman." xlix

scription of the treacherous slaughter of Vortiger and his
companions by Hengest and his :

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

>er wes ol Salesburi J>ar was a bond of Salusburi,

an oht bonde icumen ; |>at bar on his honde

senne muchelne msein clubbe ane mochele club,

he bar on his rugge. for to broke stones.

The earlier text Sir F. Madden translates :

There was a hold churl l of Salisbury come; he bore on his back
a great strong club.

In one of a series of interesting articles on the " Eights,
Disabilities, and Wages of the Ancient English Peasantry," in
the Law Magazine and Review, New Series, xi. 259, &c, I find
at p. 263, under the date of 1279 a.d.

At the same place [Mollond at Castle Camps, in the south-eastern
corner of Cambridgeshire] there "were several [27] tenants, [four of
whom are women,] described as Bondi, bondmen. 2 One of them [i.e.
each, except 12 who held in couples] held 16 acres of land in villen-
age. It does not appear that he paid any mail or gable. He re-
turned a goose and a hen, worth 3d., 20 eggs worth ±&., and a
quarter of oats worth 12d. He worked for the lord twice a week
from Michaelmas to Pentecost, and thrice a week from Pentecost to
Michaelmas, and ploughed nine acres in the year. It is plain that
this man was an operative tenant. 3

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

Thider komen bothe stronge and wayke ;

Thider komen lesse and more,

That in the borw thanne weren thore ;

Champiouns, and starke laddes,

Bondemen with hero gaddes,

Als he comen fro the plow ;

There was sembling inow :

(ed. Madden, p. 39, 1. 1012-1018.)

Another drem dremede me ek,
That ich fley over the salte se
Til Engeland, and al with me
That euere was in Denemark lyues,

1 Ceorl is used in the book in the gallinaw, & valewt iij d. ; xx. ova qum
general sense of man. valent oholum [±d.], & j quaxterium

2 PBondes, who might be freemen. aven« quod valet" xijd., & faeit a festo
Thoy are given between the Customary Sawed Micharlis usqwe Tentccostam, etc.
Tenants and the Cottars. —2 Hundred Bolls (ed. 1818), 425,

8 Bondi. Hugo Hugo tenet xvi. acras col. 1.
terve in villenagio, & dat j aucam et j

VOL. II, d

1 ON "BONDMAN."

But bondemen, and here wines,
And that ich kom til Engelond,
Al closede it intil min hond,
And Goldeboro y gaf the : —

{The same, p. 50, 1. 1304-1311.)

In the Song of the Husbandman, of the reign of Edward I.
(1272-1307 a.d.) in Wright's Political Songs, Camden Soc.
p. 150, boncle represents the " peasant" class.

Thus me pileth the pore, and pyketh ful clene,

The ryche raymeth withouten eny ryht ;
Ar londes and ar leodes liggeth fol lene,

Thorh b[i]ddyng of baylyfs such harm heth hight.
Meni of religione we halt hem ful hone,

Baroim and boncle, the clerc and the knyght.

(MS. Harl. 2253, leaf 64.)

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

Hii to-draweth ]>e sely boncle men, as wolde hem milde ywys. —
ii. 370.

which the latter reading gives as

Hii tormenteth hure tenauntes, as hulde hem they wolde.

Again in one of the Lives of Saints, said to have been written
by Robert of Gloucester, is this passage :

If a bondemaii hadde a sone : to elergie idrawe,

He ne scholde, without his loverdes leve : not icrouned beo.

(ab. 1300-10 a.d. Life of Beket, 1. 552.)

Robert of Brunne, in the lifelike sketch which he gives us of
the England — or, at least, the Lincolnshire — of 1303, as he
tells the men of his day of their sins, of course does not forget
the bondman and his lord, of course remembers the poor :

Blessyd be alle poore men,
For God almy3ty lonej? >em.

{Handlyng Bynne, p. 180, 1. 5741-2.)

One tale that he tells shows a certain independence on the
part of a bondman, and I therefore take that first, from the
Handlyng Synne, p. 269-70. In a Norfolk village a knight's
bouse and homestead (manor) were near the churchyard,
into which his herdsmen let his cattle, and they defiled the
graves. A boncle man saw that, was woe that the beasts
should there go, went to the lord, and said, " Lord, your herds-
men do wrong to let your beasts defile these graves. Where

ON "bondman." li

men's bones lie, beasts should do no nastiness." The Lord's
answer was "somewhat vile," "A pretty thing indeed to honour
such churls' bones! What honour need men pay to such churls'
livid bodies?" And then the bonde-man said him words full
well together laid:

The lord that made of earth-e, earls,
Of the same earth made he churls :
Earles might, and lordes stut, (strut)
As ehurles shall in earth be put,
Earles, ehurles, all at ones ; (once)
Shall none know your, from our, bones.

Which reproof the lord took in good part (few would have
done so, says Robert of Brunne '), and promised that his beasts
should no more break into the churchyard.

But still there is evidence enough in the Handlyng Synne
that if a lord wanted a bondman's wife or daughter, he would
not only carry her off, but brag of it afterwards (p. 231, 1.
7420-7) ; and as to the treatment of the poor by their superiors,
Robert of Brunne asks — he is not here translating Wadington —

Lord, how shul bese robbers fare,

pat be pore pepyl pelyn ful bare, —

Erles, knygtes, and barouns

And ouber lordynges of tounnes,

Justyses, shryues and baylyuys,

pat be lawes alle to-ryues,

And be pore men alle to-pyle ?

To ryche men do bey but as bey wylle. —

(p. 212, 1. 6790-7.)

He goes on denouncing them who " pyle and bete many pore
men," and contrasts their conduct with that of Dives to Lazarus,
whom Dives did not rob of gold or fee,

He dyde but lete an hounde hym to :
Ye ryche men, weyl wers 30 do !
Ye wyl noun houndes to hem lete,
But, 36 self, hem sle and bete.
He ne dyde but wernede hym of hys mete ;
And 3e robbe al bat 3e mow gete.
Ye are as Dyxies bat wyl naghte 3gue ;
And wers : for 3e robbe bat bey [the poor] shulde by lyue.
(Handlyng Synne, p. 213, 1. 6812-19.)

In a previous passage the lords' arbitrary exactions from

1 byr are but fewe lordes now Lordynges, — byr are ynow of bo ;

bat turne a wrde so wel to prow ; Of gentyl men, )>yr are but fo

But who seyb hem any skylle, [few].

Mysseye a3en fouly bey wylle.

(12

Hi ON "BONDMAN."

men in bondage — or vileynage as Wadington has it — are ex-
pressly mentioned :

And 3yf a lorde of a tounne

Robbe his men oute of resoune,

)>oghe hyt be yn bondage,

A^ens ry3t lie dobe outrage.

He shal so take bat he [the bondman] may lyue,

And as lawe of londe wyl for3yue ;

For ^yf he take ouer mesure,

Lytyl tyme shal hyt dure.

J>oghe God haue jeue be seynorye,

He 3af hym no leue to do robborye ;

For god hab ordeyned al mennys state,

How to lyue, and yn what gate ;

And bo^t he 3yue one ouer ober my3t,

He wyl bat he do hym but ry3t.

J>ys ys be ry3t of Goddys lokyng :

3elde euery man hys owne byng.

But God takeb euermore veniaunce

Of lordys, for swych myschaunce,

For swych robbery bat bey make,

J>at ofte of be poure men take.

He then tells a tale of what a Knight suffered in Purgatory
(or hell) fire, for robbing a poor man of a cloth, and winds
up with the moral :

Certys befte rytf wykkede ys . . .

Namly • pore men for to pele

Or robbe or bete wyb-oute skyle. 2

The next reference to the word in Stratmann's Dictionary is
to William and the Werwolf, (better, William of Palerne:
E. E. Text Soc. 1868, Extra Series,) of ab. 1340 a.d. 1. 216.

do quickliche crie Jmrth eche curatre of J>i king-riche
hat barou??s burgeys & bonde 3 & alle ober burnes
J>at mowe wi3tly in any wise walken a-boute
bat bei wende wi3tly as wide as bi reaume.

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

In William of Malvern's 4 Vision of Piers Ploughman, about
1362 a.d. we have:

1 especially. < Mr. Hales's name for the author of

reason. the Vision, who is sometimes called

3 Bonde, n. S. Bondsmen, villains ; as Langland. As there is no real evidence

opposed to the orders of barons and for the name Langland, I prefer the

burgesses, IT.— Glossary to the above. vaguer title William of Malvern, though

But the bonde are still one of the three Malvern is only mentioned in the first

principal orders of men, as shown by of the poems of which the Vision is

the " other burnes " who are not worth composed,
specifying.— Skeat.

ON " BONDMAN.'

liii

Barouns and Burgeis ■ and Bondc-men also
I sau3 in bat Semble. — (p. 6, 1. 90, ed. Skeat.)

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

And as a bonde-m?ca. of his bacon his berde was bidraveled.
And part of the knight's duty is —

And misbeode bou not \>i bondemen • be beter bou schalt spede.

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

In the third text of the Vision we read —

Bondmen and bastardes • and beggers children,

These bylongeth to labour ■ and lordes children sholde serven,

Bothe God and good men • as here degree asketh

•
And sith, bondemenne barnes ■ han be made bisshopes,
And barnes bastardes ■ han ben archidekenes ;
And sopers and here sones ■ for selver han be knyghtes,
And lordene sones here laboreres.— (ab. 1380. Vision of Piers Plowman.

Whitaker's text. Passus Sextus.)

Mr. Skeat says that the various readings in the MSS. of the
Vision show that bondage or bondages was used for bonde-
men, and that bonde is thus connected with the verb to bind.
Chaucer uses bondemen and bondefolk 1 as the equivalents of
cherls and thralles in his Persones Tale, de Avaritia (p. 282 ed.
Wright, quoted below, p. 554-5), while in The % Frere's Tale the
use is of one bound :

Disposith youre hertes to withstonde

The fend, that wolde make yow thral and bonde. 2

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

1 And fortherover, ther as the lawe
sayth, that temporel goodes of bondefolk
been the goodes of her lordes ; ye, that
is to understonde, the goodes of the
imperour, to defende hem in here righte,
beut not to robbe hem ne to reve hem.

2 In the Elegy on the Death of King
Edward III. the phrase " bide her
bonde" is glossed "remain as their
captive."

This goode schip, I may remeno
[so]

To the Chilvalrye of this londe,
Sum time thei counted noujt a bene.

Beo al Ffrance Ich understonde

Thei tok & slou3 hem with heore
honde
The power of Ffrance both smal
and grete,
And brou^t ther Kyng hider to bide
her bonde.
And nou ri3t sone hit [the ship]
is for3ete.
Myrc's use of bonde is this:
Fyrst bow moste bys mynne,
What he ys bat doth be synne,
Wheber hyt be heo or he,
I'ongc or olde, bonde, or fre,
Pore or ryche, or in offys.

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

llV ON " BONDMAN."

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

And as y wente be j>e waie ■ wepynge for sorowe,

[I] sei3 a sely man me by ■ opon be plow hongen.

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

His hod was hill of holes ' & his heer oute,

Wib his knopped schon ■ clouted full bykke ;

His ton toteden out • as he ]pe londe treddede,

His hosen ouerhongen his hokschynes ■ on eueriche a side,

Al beslombred in fen • as he be plow folwede ;

Twey myteynes, as mete ' maad all of cloutes ;

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

pis whit waselede in bo [fen] ■ almost to be ancle,

Foure roberen hym by-forn ' )>at feble were [worsen] ;

Men myjte reken ieh a ryb " so reufull bey weren.

His wijf walked him wib " wib a longe gode,

In a cutted cote ■ cutted full hey3e,

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

Barfote on be bare ijs ■ \>at be blod folwede.

And at be londes ende laye ■ a litell crom-bolle,

And \>eron lay a litell childe ■ lapped in cloutes,

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

And alle bey songen o songe • bat sorwe was to heren ;

pey crieden alle o cry • a carefull note.

(Pierce the Ploughman's Crede, 1. 420-441, ed. Skeat, 1867.)

Those last two lines sum up for me the English history of the
English poor (as has been said elsewhere), it was " full of
care."

Frater Galfridus, about 1440, has in the Promptorium

Bonde, as a man or woman, Servus, serva.

Bondman . Servus, nativus [neif.]

Bondschepe . Nativitas : but Bondage . Servitus.

That the lord's power over his bondmen was a reality, and
that he " frequently took advantage of his power to tyrannize,
is proved by the example of Sir Simon Burley, the tutor of
Richard II., who seized forcibly an industrious artizan at
Grravesend, on the plea of his being his escaped bondsman, and,
when his exorbitant demand was refused, threw him into the
prison of Rochester Castle." — (Wright in Archceol. xxx. 235.)
And that the Lord's power over his bondman existed into the
16th century is shown by the following extracts. 2

1 It is a wyues occupation, to wynowc hay, come, and suche other. ? 1523.

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

washe and wrynge, to make heye, shere p. 92.

come, and in time of node to helpe her 2 Mr. "Wright says, "We can trace

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

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

ON "bondman." lv

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

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

In 1521 on

" The Duke's Lands . . at Caurs (in Wales) are " Many bondmen
both rich and poor. — ib. p. 509.

In 1523 (?), Fitzherbert says :

Customary tenauntes/ are those that holde their landes of their
lorde by copye of courte role/ after the custome of the manere. And
there may be many tenau>ites with-in the same manere y* have no
copyes/ and yet holde be lyke custome and seruyce at the wyll of the
lorde. and in myne opinyon/ it began soone after the conquest/ whan
Wyllyam Conquerour had conquered this realme/ he rewarded all
those that came with hym in his voyage royall accordyng to their
degre. And to honourable men he gaue/ lordshippes/ maners/ landes/
and tenementes/ with all the inhabytau«tes/ men and women dwell-
yng in the same/ to do with them at their pleasure. And those
honourable men thought y* they must nedes haue seruauntes and
tenauwtes/ and their landes occupyed with tyllage. Wherfore they
pardoned the inhabytauntes of their lyues/ and caused them to do
all maner of seruyce that was to be done/ were it neuer so vyle / and
caused them to occupye their landes and tenementes in tyllage and
toke of them suche re?ttes/ customes/ and seruyces/ as it pleased
them to haue. And also toke all their goodes & catell at all tymes
at their pleasure/ and called them their bonde wen. and sythe that
tyme/ many noble men bothe spirytuall and temporall, of their godly
disposycion/ haue made to dyuers of the sayd bonde men manu-
missions, and graunted them fredome and lybertie. and set to them
their landes and tenementes to occupy/ after dyuers maners of rentes/
customes/ and seruyces, the whiche is vsed in dyuers places vnto this
daye. how be it in some places the bonde men contynue as yet/ the
whiche me semeth is the grettest inconuenye»t that nowe is suffred
by the lawe. That is, to haue any christen man bonden to another/
and to haue the rule of his body/ landes and goodes/ that his wife
chyldren and seruauntes have laboured/ for all their lyfe tyme/ to be
so taken/ lyke as and it were extorcion or bribery. And many tymes

Ric. II., just before the peasants' insur- we have a charter of affranchisement

rection, John Wyard or ' Alspach ' by the priory of Beauvalle in 6 Hen. V.

manumits a female villan, and gives her, a.d. 1419, and another by George Nevile,

with her liberty, her goods and chattels, lord Bergerenny, as late as 2 Hen. VIII.,

and the liberty of all her offspring : and a.d. 1511."

lvi ON "BONDMAN."

by colour therof/ there be many fre men taken as bonde men/and
their landes and goodes taken fro them/ so that they shall not be
able to sue for remedy / to prove them selfe fre of blode. And that
is moost commenly / where the fre men have the same name as the
bonde men haue/ or that his auncesters of whome he is comen/ was
manumised before his byrthe. In suche cause there can nat be to
great a punysshement. for as me semeth there shulde no man be
bonde but to god/ and to his king and prince ouer hym. Quia deus
lion facit exceptionem personarum. For god maketh no excepcyon
of any person. — Fitzherbert's Bohe of Surveyeng 8f Improiomentes
Cap. xiii. fol. xxvi.

I do not carry these extracts further, because those that have
been given — and they might be ten-folded with ease — suffi-
ciently prove the reality of the hardships which the bondmen
suffered, and that certain of these hardships were in being as
late as Fitzherbert's time, about 1520. Vague talk that the
doctrine of the law-books was never carried out in practice,
that monkish writers exasperated a molehill into a mountain
&c, will not do in the face of the evidence that literature
supplies. " Master Fitzherbarde " was not a sentimentalist, but
a practical horsebreeder, farmer and surveyor, 1 and spoke of the
bondmen's evils as he would speak of his broodmares' ailments.
There is no need for us then to imagine — as Professor Eogers
does, in his very valuable and interesting History of Prices, i.
81— a cause, of which no trace has come down to us, for Wat
Tyler's rebellion. Cause enough, and to spare, there was in
the condition of the men, if only that shown in their demand
" that we, our wives and children, shall be free." Granted that
the students of literature and charters alone get from them too
dark a view of the state of the early poor, — as Mr. Wright may
have done — yet we must declare that the student of prices on
college lands alone gets a too rose-coloured view, and that the
wrongs of the bondmen were real and deep ; even Chaucer and
Froissart witness it.

On this bonde and bondeman question I conclude then, though
with much diffidence, and acknowledging the insufficiency of the
evidence for some points : 1, that the bonde was originally free,
that he was the Saxon ceorl or twihind, with a Danish name ;
2, that if not partially before, yet wholly after, the Conquest,
his class, or the greater part of it, became bondmen or villans,
bond on bond-land ; 3, that gradually they threw off their ser-

1 It must be a mistake to identify him with Sir Anthony Fitzherbe.rt.

on "bondman." lvii

vice and signs of bondage, taking the first decided step in
advance in Edward I.'s time, the second and more decided one
in Edward III. and Richard II. 's time ; 4, that in 1520 the
burden of bondage was still heavy. (It gradually disappeared, 1
except so far as our present copyhold fines and heriots repre-
sent it. Slavery was abolished by a statute of Charles II.
The attempt to abolish it in 1526 proved a vain one. Wright.)
But our bondman was John the Reeve, though no special
duties of his as Eeeve are alluded to in the Ballad. On those
duties in Anglo-Saxon times the reader may consult the
references in Thorpe's Index to the Ancient Laws, vol. i., and
section 12 of the Institutes of Polity, in vol. ii. p. 320-1.
The office of Eeeve was one that every villan was bound to
serve, and although the Laiv Magazine says it was one which
the villan rather declined and avoided, 2 it must have been
one which, in later times at least, helped to fill its holder's
pockets. The Reeve's duty was to manage his lord's demesne,
to superintend the service-tenant's work on it, to collect the
lord's dues and rent in money and kind, and submit his accounts
yearly to the auditor. As the Sloane MS. Boke of Curtesye
says of the greve or reve —

Grauys, and baylys and parker,
Schone come to acountes euery yere
Byfore \>o auditour of bo lorde onone,
pat schulde bo trew as any stone,
Yf he dose horn no ry3t lele,
To a baron of chekker bay mun hit pele.

(Babees Book, p. 318, 1. 589-94.)

And as William of Malvern savs —

1 The name seems to hare lasted The late abridgement of Jamieson

longer in Scotland than in England ; gives " Bonday Warkis, the time a

see Jamieson's Dictionary, 4to, 1825, tenant or vassal is bound to work for

Supplement : the proprietor."

" Bondage, Bonnage, .s. The desig- ' l The chief incidents of base tenure

nation given to the services due by a which affected the villein's person are

tenant to the proprietor, or by a cot- collected in one of Edward II.'s Year-

tager to the farmer. [Used in] Angus." books. (5 Ed. II.) They were, — 1. The

"Another set of payments consisted blood fine, or marriage ransom ; 2. the
in services, emphatically called Bonage faille or tallage, a variable charge, sup-
(from bondage). And these were ex- planted by regular taxation, unless it en-
acted either in seed-time, in ploughing dured under the name of chevage ; 3. the
and harrowing the proprietor's land, — obligation of undertaking the office of
or in summer, in the carriage of his reeve or bailiff, an invidious dignity
coals, or other fuel ; and in harvest, in which the villein rather declined and
cutting down his crop." — Agricultural avoided. — Law Mag. § Rev. xiii. 11.
Survey of Kincardineshire, p. 213.

lviii ON " BONDMAN."

I make Piers the Plowman my procuratour and my reve,
And registrar to receyve. 1

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

And again —

"S l

Thanne lough ther a lord, and " by this light " seide,
" I holde it right and reson, of my reve to take
Al that myn auditour, or ellis my steward
Counseileth me bi hir acounte and my clerkes writyng.
With spiritus intellectus thei seke the reves rolles ;
And with spiritus fortitudinis fecche it I wole after."

{Vision, ii. 423.)

Need one quote Chaucer's sketch of the Reeve —

Wei cowde he kepe a gerner and a bynne ;
Ther was non auditour cowde on him wynne.
Wei wiste he by the drought, and by the reyn,
The yeeldyng of his seed, and of his greyn.
His lordes scheep, his neet, [and] his dayerie,
His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrie,
Was holly in this reeves governynge,
And by his covenaunt yaf the rekenynge,
Syn that his lord was twenti yeer of age ;
Ther couthe noman bringe him in arrerage.
Ther nas baillif, ne herde, ne other hyne,
That they ne knewe his sleight and his covyne ;
They were adrad of him, as of the deth.
His wonyng was ful fair upon an heth ;
With grene trees i-schadewed was his place.
He cowde bettre than his lord purchace.
Ful riche he was i-stored prively,
His lord wel couthe he plese subtilly,
To geve and lene him of his owne good,
And have a thank, a eoto, and eek an hood.
In youthe he lerned hadde a good mester ;
He was a wel good wright, a carpenter.
This reeve sat upon a well good stot,
That was a pomely gray, and highte Scot.
A long surcote of pers uppon he hadde,
And by his side he bar a rusty bladde.

Our Reeve too has " a rusty bladde," rides a good horse, has a
fair dwelling, and is "ful riche istored prively," but Hodgkin Long
and Hob of the Lathe are " not adrad of him as of the deth."
As he was the King's reeve and should have collected taxes 2 as
well as dues and rents, 3 he ought to have been a good scribe and
summer-up, but the ballad does not read as if he was. His

1 See the extract at the end of this 3 Toulmin Smith's Parish, p. 506,
paper, line 12 from foot. refers to a rentcharge paid to the King's

2 If Mr. Toulmin Smith be right in reeve,
his view, p. 557 note below.

ON " BONDMAN." lix

enemy is not the auditor, of whom we hear nothing, but the
courtier or purveyor who could report his wealth to the King,
and get leave, or take it, to put the screw on him. He sells his
wheat (1. 144) to get it out of sight (?) ; — money could be more
easily hidden ; — and he has a thousand pounds and some deal
more.

The supper of his pretended poverty — bean-bread, rusty
bacon, broth, lean salt beef, and sour ale, may well have been
bondman's food in Edward I.'s time, better than many got in
Edward III.'s, as William of Malvern shows {Vision, Passus VII.
1. 267-82, ed. Skeat, p. 88-9, text A) ; but could the supper of his
actual wealth, boar's head and capons, woodcocks, venison, swans,
conies, curlews, crane, heron, pigeons, partridges, and sweets of
many kinds, have been ever Eeeve's food then ? I trow not.
Chaucer's Frankeleyn couldn't have given a better spread in
Richard II.'s time, and John Kussell's Franklen in Henry VI.'s
days (ab. 1450-60 a.d., say,) hardly exceeded it:

A Fcst for a Franklin.

" A Franklen may make a feste Improberabille,
brawne with mustard is concordable,
bakon ser ued with pesofi,

beef or moton stewed smiysable,
Boyled Chykofi or capon agreable,
convenyent for be seson ;

Rosted goose & pygge fulle profitable,
Capon / Bakemete, or Custade Costable,
when eggis & crayme be geson.

berfore stuffe of household is behoveable,
Mortrowes or Iusselle ar delectable

for be second course by reson.

Than veel, lambe, kyd, or cony,
Chykoii or pigeon rosted tendurly,

bakemetcs or dowcettes with alle.

ben followynge frytowrs, & a leche lovely ;
suche seruyse in sesouw is fulle semely

To seme with bothe chambur & halle.

Then appuls & peris with spices delicately
After be terme of be yere fulle deynteithly,
with bred and chese to calk.

Spised cakes and wafurs worthily
withe bragot & methe, bus men may meryly
plese welle bothe gret & smalle."

(Bubces Booh; p. 170-1.)

lx ON "BONDMAN."

Edward I.'s order for his own coronation feast was 380 head
of cattle, 430 sheep, 450 pigs, 18 wild boars, 278 flitches of
bacon, and 19,660 capons and fowls (Macfarlane, Cab. Hist. iv.
11, referring to Eymer). Only in bacon, boar, and capons
could the king have come np to his reeve. To what date
then are we to bring the ballad down ? I don't know, and,
if the reason I have assigned for its being tacked on to
Edward I. be the right one, I don't care ; for the main
point to me is its connection with him. But taking the ballad
as it stands, the mention of the Galliard in it, 1. 530, p. 579,
shows that it was recast, if not composed, after 1541, when that
dance was introduced. Also the Northern forms baine, 1. 504,
gauge,!. 209, 343, 864, strung, 1. 332, seile, 1. 502, ryke, 1. 263,
farrand, 1. 353, 358, &c, the present no-rhymes of both and lath,
1. 623-4, 641-2, arse and worse, 1. 668-9, toieele and soule, 1.
806-7, &c, show that our version is an altered copy of a Northern
original, or Northern copy. I say copy, because if lathe is the
Anglo-Saxon IcbtS, a division of the county peculiar to Kent,
the scene of the ballad must have been Kent ; but Chaucer's use
of the word in its sense of barn, in his Reeve's Tale —

Why nad thou put the capil in the lathe ? l

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

Lathe or Leathe, a place for storing hay and corn in winter — a
barn.

saves us from the necessity of supposing a double transformation
of the ballad, though this would be authorised by the ascription
of it to "the south-west country" in 1. 909. The Northern
saint sworn by in 1. 744, St. William, Archbp. of York in the
12th century, tends to confirm the Northern origin, as does the
" clerke out of Lancashire " who read the roll that contained the
tale, 1. 8-12.

1 The Promptorium gives " Berne of speaking of the partition of England

lathe (or lathe P.), Horrcum," p. 33, and into shires and lathes, says " Some, as

Mr. Way says, " Lathe, which does it were roming, or rouing at the name

not occur in its proper place in the Lath, do saie that it is derived of a

Promptorium, is possibly a word of barn, which is called in Old English a

Danish introduction into the eastern lath, as they coniecture." " Horrcum est

counties," Lade, horrcum, Dan. Skinner locus ubi rcponitur annona, a barne, a

observes that " it was very commonly lathe. Grangia, lathe or grange. — Or-

used in Lancashire." At p. 288 he also tus. Orreum, granarium, lathe." — Vo-

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

ON "bondman." lxi

If asked to guess a date for the composition of the ballad, I
should guess the earlier half of the 15th century, while for the
recast of it I should guess the latter half of the 16th, or the
former half of the 17th. The tradition embodied in it is, I
doubt not, of the 13th century.

Let me add, before ending this long rigmarole, 1 that John the
Eeeve was a well-known typical personage, like Piers Plowman,
&c, as is shown by the following extract from a discussion on
the Real Presence in the Harleian MS. 207 :

[leaf 1],

BomiHi est sperare in domino quern et sperare
[1532.]

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

[leaf 2]

[A] relacion maide. by hobb of the Lille vnto Sir Iohan the par-
iche preste vpon A comminicacion. Betwene. Iacke lobe Servyng-
man of thone p«/*tie. And. Iohan the reve. Pens plowghman.
Lawrence Laborer. Thomlyn tailyor. And hobb of the hille of thother
partie. Wherin the said Sir Iohan wold maike none Awnswer vnto
he knewe the olde vecar mynde. the wiche saide vecar wrote lyenge
in his bedd veray seeke. and delyuerde hys mynde in wrytynge. vnto
his pa/iche preste. And the said prest delyuerd the same booke to
hobb of the hille. counsellynge hym to learne it. wherebye he myght
be more able to maike better Answere to snche light fellows if he
chaunced to here any snche Comminicacion in tyme to co«ime.
Hobb of the hille said vnto sir Iohari .;. Good morow Sir Iohan .;.
And he Answered .;. Good morrowe hobb .;. Hobb said .;. Sir Iohan I
am veray glade of our metynge .;. For I am desirouse of your coun-
selle in a weightie matter Sir Iohan said. Marie ye shalle haue the
beste councelle that is in me .;. What is your matter Bie my faithe
Sir .;. yesterdaie My master [leaf 2 b.] and Iohan the reve maid a
feaste. And piers plewghman. Laurence laboror. And Thomlyn tailyor
was at dyner at our house, And I semed them at dyner. And or
halfe dyner was done, coiume in a Servynge man called Iacke Iolie.
Rent getherar vnto my ladie. For my master Iohan the reve was
Receuor this yeare : And when Iack[e] lobe was sett downe. He
demaunded whether we had any messe or no .;. And my master saide

1 I ought to apologise for its short- the delay named, I have set down
comings. It has been put together in opinions, many of which, though hastily-
great haste, Mr. Hales having been un- expressed, have not been hastily formed,
fortunately unable to treat its subject, as my long connection with working
for which Part II. has been kept back men and with Early English may
four months. Feeling obliged to say guarantee,
something on the question to excuse

lxii ON " BONDMAN."

we hadde, and trustede to haue .;. Than saide Iacke Iolie that we war
blynded for waunt of teackynge. for it is plane ydolatrie to beleue
thai the bodie and hloude of criste ar in firme of breade and wyne
ministrede in the alter, And for his purpose he Aleged Many Sayenges,
As of Martyr luther. Eocolampadius. Caralstadij. Iohan Firtz
Malangton, with many dyuerse other .;. Than peirs ploughman waxed
woundrus Angrie. and called Iacke Iolie. fals heritike. Than my
master desired them bothe to be content in his house, and to reason
the matte 1- gentlie. And thei warre bothe contente So to doo.;.

lxiii

NOTES.

p. xxx. " Evans, Pinkerton, Hurd, Ritson." Here Hurd is a mistake for Herd,
who published two vols, of Scottish Ballads. — D. ( = Alexander Dyee.)

p. 1, Chevy Chase. See Mr. Maidment's comments on this "modern version" in
his Scotish Ballads, 1868, i. 81.— F.

that "expliceth," quoth Eichard Sheale, does not mean that Sheale was the
author, but the scribe. So one of the Piers Plowman MS., (Harl. 3954)
ends — quod Heruw, &c. — Skeat.

p. 2, " That day " &c. In the " Complaynt of Scotland," which was not written
before 1547, mention is made of the " Hunttiss of Chevot," and of " The
persee and mongumrye met," as if these were the titles of two separate
ballads. That these were two distinct ballads founded on the battle of
Otterbourne, and known in Scotland by the above titles, is extremely pro-
bable ; for though, in the Scottish ballad of the " Battle of Otterbourne "
the line " The Percy and Montgomery met " occurs, the name of Cheviot is
never mentioned. Dr. Percy, in quoting the above line from the " Com-
playnt of Scotland," gives "That day, that day, that gentil day" as the
following one ; but that is, in fact, the title of another ballad or song.
Dr. Rimbault. Musical Illustrations, p. 1.

p. 5, Battle of Otterbourne. See Mr. Robert White's full account of it, with an
appendix and illustrations. London, 1857. — P.

p. 6, 1. 7 from foot : for Wold read Henry Bold. Another edition, says Mr.
E. Peacock, is a fcp. 8vo. of 39 pages. " Chevy Chase, a ballad, in Latin
Verse, by Henry Bold, accompanied by the original English Text. London,
Printed by Henry Bryer, Bridge St. Blackfriars, 1818."

p. 8, 1. 30, read/a* buckes — Ch. ( = F. J. Child.)

p. 11, 1. 123, lyons woode, beyond doubt. — Ch. layd on lode ( = a load), as Skeat
explains, is, I think, certain. — Ch.

p. 12, 1. 143, " which struck" (as in Old Ballads, 1723) is certainly the read-
ing.— Ch.

p. 14, 1. 198 : sorry you left too full : no doubt of doleful. — Ch.

p. 17, When Loue with vneonfined wings. This version is very corrupt, and inferior
to the printed copy of 1G49. See my edition of Lovelace, 1864. — Hazlitt.

p. 20, 1. 8, 16, 24, enioyes. This is exactly the reverse of what the poet meant
and wrote. — Hazlitt. The right burden is, " Know no such Liberty," but
the 4th or last stanza has " Injoy such Liberty." — F.

lxiv NOTES.

p. 21, Cloris. See my communication to Notes and Queries, 3rd Series viii. 435, and
Bell's edition of Waller. — Hazlitt.

p. 24, 1. 3. The Percy Society reprinted the edition of 1686, but imperfectly. —
Hazlitt.

p. 28, 1. 13, read yeelded.— Ch.

p. 30, In Scots poems, &c, as Percy says, we find " Hollow, my Fancie : " but
there are 17 stanzas, and many differences. The last 9 — including only the
last of those in the MS. which is also the last in the Scots Poems copy — are
said to have been " writ by Colonel Clealand of my Lord Augus's regiment,
when he was a student in the College of Edinburgh, and 1 8 years of age."
— Ch.

p. 35, 1. 2. 1639 as the date of Carew's death is only conjectural. — H. ( =
W. C. Hazlitt.)

p. 37, 1. 6. 1731. This Collection was printed in 1662, 8vo, and again, with some
changes, in 1731, 2 vols. 12mo. — H.

p. 38, 1. 22, for soine read sinne (the idea is that the Lower House sinnes when it
does sit). — Ch.

p. 39, note. Percy's Lumford is of course a penslip for Lunsford. Sir "Walter
Scott, in a note to chap. xx. of Woodstock, gives another version of the
2nd verse of this Ballad, and an account of Lunsford, but there are mistakes
in it. Scott's verse is — ■

The post who came from Coventry

Biding in a red rocket,
Did tidings tell, how Lunsford fell,

A ehilds hand in his pocket.

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

From Fielding and from Vavasour,

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

That eateth up children.

The best account of Lunsford that I know is in The Gentleman's Magazine,
vol. 106, pt. i. 350, 602; pt. ii. 32, 148; vol. 107, pt. i. 265. Cf. Rush-
worth Hist. Col., vol. iii. pt. i. p. 459; Add. MSS. 1519 f. 26, 6358 f. 50 f
5702 p. 118.

There is an engraving among the King's Pamphlets in the British
Museum — I cannot give the press mark — representing Sir Thomas Lunsford
at full length. In the background is a church in flames, and a soldier with
a drawn sword' pursuing a woman ; a companion is catching another woman
by her hair. Under the engraving are these lines :

I'll helpe to kill, to pillage, and destroy

All the opposers of the Prelacy.

My fortunes are grown small, my friends are less,

I'll venture, therefore, life to have redress ;

By picking, stealing, or by cutting throat es,

Although my practise cross the kingdom's votes.

p. 45, 1. 32, for witt read woe. — Ch.

p. 50, ffowfayre shee be. The earliest appearance of this song of Wither's was
in A Description of Love, 1620 ; then again it appeared at the end of Fairc
Virtue &c, 1622, unless the undated sheet in the Pepysian Library be older,
which is moro than possible. — Hazlitt.

NOTES. 1XV

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

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

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

1. 25, drop of, hurts metre and sense : ' will you be the taster?' is the mean-
ing. — Ch.

1. 28, Exus = Naxos of course : 29, coyle, rare. — Ch.

]. 29, coy.se should be coyle : compare 1. 2. — D.

1. 34, for of read on. — Ch.

p. 54, 1. 42, read toward : 50, sword's. — Ch.

1. 54, read Cynthia's fellow, Muses' deere, i.e. (Diana's mate, darling of the
Muses).— Ch.

p. 55, 1. 72, grace: some word like care is wanted. — Ch.

p. 56, The Grene Knight. Gaseoigne the poet, when he was on service in the Low
Countries, tells us that he acquired the nickname of The Green Knight
under circumstances of a peculiar character. — Hazlitt.

p. 63, 1. 123, note, Percy's 'gan is wrong. — Ch.

1. 126, thy should be thee: you can do nothing with the Sax. \>y. — Ch.

1. 146, 147, ren&praye, blin ; (transpose the ; and ,). — Ch.

p. 64, 168 (he had sayd nothing), qy. kele? (i.e. so have I hele). — Ch.

p. 65, note 4, read Egihson : braid is well enough explained by the A.- Sax. bradan,
here, gripe. — Ch.

p. 67, 1. 255, kell, i.e. caul, net-work for a lady's head. The note on this word is
quite from the purpose. [So it is]. Compare —

Faire be thy wives, right lovesom, white, and small :
Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellys.
London ! thowe art the flowre of cities all.

Dunbar. Beliq. Ant. i. 206.— F.
The line describes Bredbeddle's wife, not Sir Gawaine : see it referred to in
Madden's Glossary, to Syr Gawayne, under " kell." — D.

p. 67, 1. 236, rought = were sorry for, Sax. hreowian. — Ch.

p. 71, 1. Z49,frauce, apparently from French froisser, clash, dash, &c. — Ch.

1. 355 and note. How could "beleeue" be right? To say nothing of 1. 4"8, the
rhyme required proves it to be wrong. — D.

p. 72, 1. 364, tho seems to me more likely to be right. — Ch.

p. 74, 1. 429 : the meaning can hardly be proved about Gawaine : proved by is
gone through by, performed by, I should say. — Ch.

p. 75, 1. 461, throe : rightly explained in note. Icel. \>rdr has the same meaning
as thra in G. Doug. : and so Sax. brat, found only in composition.— Ch.

p. 76, 1. 496, other = second, as in Sax. So 1. 523.— Ch.

p. 82, 1. 68, " & heard them speake " should be " & heard him speake." — D. and Ch.

p. 83, 1. 75, the = thy.— Ch.

VOL. II. e

Jxvi NOTES.

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

p. 88, 1. 211, some spending money. The author must have written something like
money for spending. — D. Read money for spending. — Ch.

1. 214, you heyre, read your Tieyre. — D.

p. 90, 1. 273, drop $ (caught from 1. 271 or 268) ; thereto makes sense. — Ch.

p. 92, 1. 336, for said read had.— Ch.

p. 94, 1. 399, fone should be. foe (unless in the concluding line of the stanza goe be
an error for gone). — D.

1. 402, read go[?i]e. — Ch.

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

1. 534, soe bee, read soe beene. — D.

p. 99, 1. 556, " for to his graue he rann " ought manifestly to be " for to his mas-
ters graue he rann " : compare 1. 543. — D.

1. 557, read followed. — Ch.

p. 104, 1. 693, thither wold he wend, ? read thither wold he right. — D.

p. 108, 1. 800, read rest.— Ch.

1. 807, why not read shivver? shimmer makes no sense. — Ch.

p. Ill, 1. 895, noe more, read noe moe. — D. and Ch.

p. 112, 1. 919, in the crye, an undoubted error for in the stowre. — D.

p. 113, 1. 964, was past, read was gane, or gaen (i.e. gone). — D.

p. 117, 1. 1048, read with thee.— Ch.

1. 1067, I should understand yerning as eager, &c. It is very expressive
of the noise of a dog who wants a thing very much. — Ch.

p. 119, 1. 1125, for his heire, read is neire. — Ch. I took it for is here. — F.

p. 120, 1. 1165, read come. — Ch.

p. 122, 1. 1202, busied, ? bustled, made a stir, made a " towre." — Ch.

1. 1207, ve&dfyery wood? — Ch.
p. 125, 1. 1300, read moe. — Ch.

1. 1305, feelds, certainly fells.— D.

p. 128, 1. 1403, blithe, read bliue (i. e. quickly). — D.

p. 132, 1. 1496, affrayd should be aghaste — Copland's ed. having the right reading
in 1. 1494, wonder faste, and brast being the final word of 1. 1500. — D.

p. 133, 1. 1528, Sir Marrockee the hight. If this be right, it means " they called
him Sir Marrock " : but qy. he hight (i.e. he was called)? — D. Why not, he
hight ?— Ch.

p. 136, Gvye and Amarant. This is a portion of The Famous Historie of Guy Erie
of Warwicke, &c, by S. Rowlands ; and I cannot but think that Mr. F.
mistakes the nature and intention of it. Rowlands is evidently imitating
the serio-comic romance poetry of Italy, a kind of writing which has been
popular in that country, from Pulci down to Fortiguerra.— D.

notes. Ixvii

p. 136. I do not understand note 3, " torn out &c." — Ch. Page 253 of the MS. was
torn out, Percy said, to send King Estmcre, which was on it, to press. — F.

p. 137, 1. 45, recovers — recover his, of course. — Ch.

p. 139, 1. 92, this coward art, read this coward act. — D.

p. 140, 1. 135, (probably) den[a]yd.— Ch.

p. 145, 1. 2, She. " The Duke of Buckingham's Manifestation of Remonstrance, with
a Journal of his Proceedings in the Isle of Eee, 1627, 4to." An unhappy View
of the whole Behaviour of my Lord Duke of Buckingham at the French
Island called the Isle of Rhee, discovered by Colonel William Fleetwood, an
unfortunate commander in that untoward service, 1648. This most fierce and
prejudiced impeachment of an expedition, ill planned and unhappily ter-
minated, is reprinted in the fifth volume of the Somers Collection of Tracts.
Lowndes. The Expedition to the Isle of Bhe, by Edward, Lord Herbert of
Cherbury. Edited by Lord Powis for the Philobiblon Soc. I860. — F.

p. 147, King and Miller, the first known edition was imprinted at London, by
Edward Allde [circa 1600].— Hazlitt,

p. 148, 1. 2, read the Reeve.— Ch.

p. 155, 1. 186, read a botts.— Ch.

p. 160, 1. 1, for is read It is.

1. 2, for differ en read different.

IRQ l" 72' I 60>000 is evidently the right reading, as the metre shows. — Ch.

p. 168, 1. 57, and last, read at last. — D.

p. 172. the last line of notes, Jmrms should be harms. — D.

1. 135. In Rymer, ix. 317-18, is Robert Waterton's petition to be repaid
the costs of the Duke of York, and the prisoners (1) Count de Ewe, (2)
Arthur de Bretaigne, (3) le Mareschall Buchecaud, Perron de Lupe, and
Cuchart de Sesse, these 3, at s. 23, 4d. a day, and other travelling ex-
penses. At p. 334, Rymer, ix, are " Beds, curtains, &c. for the Dukes of
Orleans and Burbon, at Eltham, the Tower of London, Westminster, Wind-
sor, and diverse other places." p. 360 is, de Domino de Lyne, prisonaris.
— F.

p. 174, Conscience. Compare The Booke in Meeter of Bobin Conscience, ? about
1550; and Allde's edition before 1600, printed in Halliwell's Contributions
to Early English Literature, 1849, and with 4 additional stanzas in Hazlitt's
Early Popular Poetry, iii. 221. Compare also A piece of Friar Bacons
Brazen-heads Prophesies, 1604, (Percy Society, 1844,) Lauder's poem on
the Nature of Scotland twiching the Inter tainment of virtewus men that
lacketh Byches, $c, and Martin Parker's Bobin Conscience, or Conscionable
Robin. His Progresse thorow Court, City, and Countrey: with his bad
entertainement at each severall place. Very pleasant and merry to bee read.
Written in English by M. P.

Charitie's cold, mens hearts are hard,
And most doores against Conscience bard.

London 163o, 8vo., 11 leaves. Bodleian. (Burton's Books) Hazlitt's Hand-
book. — F.

p. 186, 1. 49, read denide. — Ch.

e 2

lxviii notes.

p. 188, 1. 104, sore should be dropped and the line not indented : sore is evidently-
caught from the line above. — Ch.

p. 190, Harl. MS. 4843 (paper). Article 11 is "Anno Domini millesimo cccxlvi
die Martis, in vigilia Lucse Evangelistse, hora M&tictina ix. commissum
fuit bellum inter Anglos et Scotos non longe a Dunelmia, in loco ubi nunc
stat crux vulgariter dictus Nevillcrosse " Poema rhythmicura, [leaf] 241.
Harl. Catal. •

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

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

1. 245, &c, brothers should be brother; and the words to the King of
ffrance is a gloss crept into the text. — D.

p. 200, last line but two of note, for 63-6 read 63-8. (Durham Feilde is likely
enough by the author of Flodden Field). — Ch.

p. 201, See the " Discendants from Guy, Earl of Warwick ; i.e. of the family of
Arden of Parke-Hall in Com. Warwic. who were indeed descended from the
Great Turchil, who lived at the time of the Conquest." Harl. MS. 853,
leaf 113. Mr. Halliwell in his Descriptive Notices of Early English His-
tories, p. 47-8, says of the story of Guy : " This tale was dramatized early
in the 17th century, and Taylor mentions having seen it acted at the
Maidenhead of Islington." " After supper we had a play of the life and
death of Guy in Warwicke, played by the Eight Honourable the Earle of
Darbie his men." Pennilesse Pilgrimage, ed. 1630, p. 140." Dr. Eimbault
prints the tune of the ballad at p. 46-7 of his Musical Illustrations, from
the Ballad Opera of " Robin Hood," performed at Lee and Harper's Booth
in 1730. The ballad, he says, "was entered on the Stationers' books, 5th
January, 1591-2."— F.

p. 202, 1. 37, the grave is a ridiculous blunder for the cave. — D.

1. 47, ingrauen in Mold should be ingrauen ins tone. Here the scribe
repeated by mistake the word Mold from the first line of the stanza. — D.

p. 203, last line but 4, read " Mawgertoun." — Ch.

p. 203, 1. 5 from foot. Nephew to the Laird of Mangcrtoun (misprinted Marger-
toun). This reference to the nephew of the Lord of Mangerton, the chief
of the Armstrongs, leads to the inference that the circumstances on which
the ballad is founded had occurred previous to the rescue of William Arm-
strong of Kinmont, as Sir Eichard Maitland was born in 1496, and died at
the advanced age of ninety, on the 20th of March, 1586. Jock, in 1569,
gave protection to the Countess of Northumberland, after the unfortunate
rising and defeat of her husband and the Earl of Westmoreland, when
they were both compelled to fly from England. After an unsuccessful
attempt to take refuge in Liddesdale, they were compelled to put themselves
under the protection of the Armstrongs of the Debateable land. The
Countess, who did not accompany them, her tire-woman and ten other
persons who were with her, were unscrupulously despoiled by the Liddes-
dale reivers of their horses, so that the poor lady was left on foot at John
of the Side's house, a cottage not to be compared to many a dog-kennel in
England." Maidment's Scotish Ballads, i. 182-3. Maidment also gives the
ballad of Hobbie Noble at p. 191, showing how he was betrayed into the
hands of his enemies by the Armstrongs, whose Jock he had rescued. — F.

p. 204, 1. 4, he is gone, read he is gone or gaen (i.e. gone). — D.

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

NOTES. lxix

p. 217, 1. 14, has received, read had received. — D.

p. 222, 1. 106, face seems to be an error for eye. — D.

1. 126, . after " yee."— Ch.

p. 226, 1. 214, for land read man ? (Percy has laird, but that reading is not likely
in this English ballad). — Ch.

p. 235, note 5, " and delend" Perhaps so ; but in old ballads and is sometimes
redundant. — D.

p. 237, 1. 232, soefast runn, read soefast rinn. — D.

p. 240, 1. 63, with speares in brest. This, of course, should be with speares in
rest.—D. (?— F.)

1. 64, . after " flight."— Ch.

p. 279, Bessie off Bednall. There are several plays on this subject. The earliest
is The Blind Beggar of Bednal- Green, with the merry humor of Tom
Strowd the Norfolk Yeoman, as it was divers times publickly acted by the
Princes Servants. Written by John Day, 1659, 4to. The latest was by my
friend Sheridan Knowles. — D.

p. 292, 1. 56, for shinne, read, as in the next stanza, shoone. — D.

p. 297, 1. 35, pinn. I prefer pin as a corruption of point, as in " He's but
one pin above a natural." Cartwright, Cf. our use of peg.

The calendar, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin.

John Gilpin. — Skeat.

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

p. 313, 1. 13, sonne. Here, to be consistent, we must read sonne\s\. — D.

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

p. 319, 1. 200, giusts ; of course, " giusts " should be " giufts " (gifts).— D.

p. 323, 1. 30, " itt is now but a sigh clout, as you may see." The note on this line
is strangely wrong. " A sigh clout " is a clout for sighing (or, more pro-
perly, sieing), i.e. straining milk. — D. I only know siting for strain-
ing.— F.

p. 328, 1. 22, for Lay, ? read he laincs (i.e. conceals). — D.

p. 341, Sir Eglamore. " Sir Eglamore " must have been originally written in
Northern rather than in Southern English, as appears from internal evi-
dence. "We find innumerable rimes which are no rimes, but which become
so at once when translated into a Northumbrian dialect. Is it not clear
that such rimes as taketh and goeth should be tais and ga is ? That for tane
and bone we should read tane and banc ? So, too, rare (riming to were) ought
to be rair. Driueth and cliffes should be driffis and cliffis. Brew and hughe
(laughed) should be drench and leuch. Abode must be aba id, if it is to rime
with made (or maid). And finally, as a crucial instance, it is almost
impossible to believe that the four words in stanza 75 — pace, rose, was, and
taketh, were not intended to rime together in the forms pas, ras, was, and
tais or tas. To take one more case, for rest, trust, cast, and last (st. 4), read

lxx NOTES.

rest, trist, kest, lest. And when we further observe that the rimes may be
thus emended throughout the whole poe?n, surely the inference that it was of
Northern origin becomes almost a certainty. — Skeat.

p. 343, 1. 65, for "& show your hart & love," ? read " — hart and love her
to " ?— D.

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

p. 344, 1. 93, N

p. 345, 1. 132,

p. 352, 1. 320,

p. 355, 1.403J

p. 359, 1. 505, for home read harm. — D.

p. 367, 1. 702, head. There the rhyme determines that for "head" we must sub-
stitute the A.-S. heved. — D.

p. 369, 1. 766, for ycelde read yode (not, as Percy says, yeede). — D.

p. 369, A Cauileere. See Gervase Markham's chapter " Of Hawking with all sorts
of Hawkes," &c, in his Coimtrey Contentments, 1615, Bk. I, p. 87-97- " The
pleasure of hawking . . is a most Princely and Berious delight." — F.

p. 373, 1. 856, for rose read rase. — D.

p. 382, 1. 1119, for more read moe. — D.

p. 384, 1. 1117, for went hee read hee gone.

p. 387, note 1. As the true reading is undoubtedly " man" why say anything
about the meaning of " 3Iay"? — D.

p. 388, 1. 1285, for dwell read wend.— J).

p. 390, The Empcronr and the Childe, or Valentine & Orson. See Halliwell's
Descriptive Notices, 18-48, p. 29-30, as to the Romance, and the prose story.

p. 401, 1. 12, " that ginnyc his ffilly wold haue her owne will." Here " Grinnye"
is the name of "his ffilly." If the MS. has "grimye," it is an error. — D.

p. 419, 1. 106, for young read ying. — D.

p. 432, 1. 439, " & said, Cozen will !

who hath done to you this shame ? "

Here " will " sounds very ridiculously, as if the 3 knights were using the
familiar abbreviation of their cousin's name ! Read undoubtedly (com-
paring Ritson's text of the passage),

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

p. 454, 1. 1078, " both old & young." -|i n t^th places "young" should be
p. 496, 1. 2223, "both old and young." J "ying."— D.

p. 493, note 1. Wivre. See a drawing of one at p. 9 of the Bestiaire d 'Amour of
Richard de Fournival, Paris, 1860 ; and Mons. Hippeau's note at p. 103-4.
— F.

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

NOTES. lxxi

p. 505, 1. 98, and dryed it on the grasse. Jamieson compares

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

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

p. 506. 1. 117, wicked be my merry men all. Jamieson compares with this the last
3 stanzas of Little Musgrave (i. 122, note): " Woe worth you, woe worth
my merry men all," and says, " The same kind of remonstrance with those
about him occurs in Lee's tragedy of ' Alexander the Great ' after the
murder of Clitus." Most men want to put their sins on other people's
shoulders. — F.

p. 521, the extract from Lane's MS. Harl. 5243, is only his address to the reader,
before his Poem on Guy. — F.

p. 536, 1. 284, for noone read "noone time" (Compare, ante, p. 468, 1. 1441, —

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

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

p. 541, 1. 432. There is a church in Winchester called St. Swithin's, which is
merely a large room over the archway of King's Gate, but it has no pre-
tensions to the antiquity mentioned in your letter. The sword and axe
of the giant were probably ordered to be hung up in the cathedral church,
which was originally dedicated under the title of St. Peter and St. Paul ;
but the body of St. Swithin having been transferred from the churchyard
into the sumptuous shrine built for its reception, the cathedral from thence-
forth down to the time of Henry VIII. was distinguished by the name of
Saint Swithin, and this is no doubt the church alluded to. — Walter Bailey.

p. 579, 1. 529. John de Reeve. The mention of the galliard here, a dance not intro-
duced into England till about 1541, confirms what the language shows, that
our version of the poem is a late one. — F.

p. 582, 1. 606, On Chape, see Wedgwood's Diet. i. 321.

Bishop #erc|vg jfolto Jl*g>.

33aIIati£> ant) Romances.

-x>XKc

There are two principal versions of this well-known ballad —
an old, and a modern one. The copy preserved in the Folio is
a slightly various form of the latter.

The oldest copy of the old version is preserved in a MS. in
the Ashmolean Collection at Oxford. This was printed by
Hearne, in 1719, in the Preface to his edition of Grulielmus
Neubrigiensis. "To the MS. copy," says Percy, "is subjoined the
name of the author, Eychard Sheale [expliceth quoth Eychard
Sheale] ; whom Hearne had so little judgement as to suppose to
be the same with a R. Sheal, who was living in 1588." The
general character of the language, if there were no other proof,
proves that the ballad is of a much earlier date than 1588 ; but
probably Hearne is right in identifying the subscribed "Pi. Sheale"
with the well-known ballad-singer of that name, who flourished,
or more truly withered, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. This
Sheale was in some sort the last of the minstrels. There are

1 In the printed Collection of Old Glasgow 8 V .° 1747. — Which, is remarkable

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

N.B. The Headings in the Margin y e Passages -which, concern the two

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

VOL. II. B

2 CHEUY CHASE.

extant some lines of his, of very inferior merit, wherein he
bewails his miserable condition. He narrates with many sighs
and groans how he has been robbed, left destitute, and no man
gave unto him. Certainly, if these lines are a fair specimen of
his talents, one cannot wonder that he found the world somewhat
cold. And certainly the author of those lines could never have
written " The Hunting of the Cheviot." But he may have sung
it many and many a time, and passed with many an audience for
the author. And hence, perhaps, the subscription of his name to
the Ashmolean copy. The ballad in his time was extensively
popular. Sir Philip Sidney refers to it in a well-known
passage (though, as Prof. Child suggests, it is not impossible
that he may mean the "Battle of Otterbourne "), as commonly
sung by " blind crowders." Many years before Sidney wrote his
Defence of Poetry, the Complaint of Scotland, written in 1548,
speaks of " The Huntis of Chevot," and quotes the line,

That day, that day, that gentill day,

which is apparently a memory-quotation, or perhaps a Scotch

version of

That day, that day, that dredfull day.

This evidence of its popularity in the middle of the sixteenth
century, coupled with the antiquity of the language (though
much of that "antiquity" belongs to the dialect in which,
rather than to the time at which, it was written), justify the
assigning of the ballad to the fifteenth century.

This ballad is historically highly valuable for the picture it
gives of Border warfare in its more chivalrous days, when
ennobled by generosity and honour. The hewing and hacking
lose their horrors in the atmosphere of romance thrown around
them. And the main incidents of the piece are no doubt
generally true.

Such fierce collisions as here represented must often have

CHEUY CHASE. 3

occurred, and from the same cause here given. " It was one of
the Laws of the Marches frequently renewed between the two
nations, that neither party should hunt in the other's borders
without leave from the proprietors or their deputies." This
permission the high-spirited Borderer was not always disposed to
ask. He did not care to beg for favours. He would make no
secret of his purposed sport, so that if the warden of the March
about to be trespassed upon chose to oppose him, he was not
prevented from doing so by ignorance of his intention. In this
way the proclamation of a hunting expedition across the Borders
was in reality a challenge to a contest. An excellent illustration
of the perpetual possibility of an encounter, which attended and
recommended these defiant expeditions, is to be found in the
Memoirs of Carey, Earl of Monmouth. Carey was Warden of
the Marches in Queen Mary's time, and gives the following
account :

"There had been an ancient custom of the borders, when
they were at quiet, for the opposite border to send the warden of
the Middle Marche, to desire leave that they might come into
the borders of England, and hunt with their greyhounds for
deer, towards the end of summer, which was denied them.
Towards the end of Sir John Foster's government, they would,
without asking leave, come into England and hunt at their
pleasure, and stay their own time. I wrote to Farnehurst, the
warden over against me, that I was no way willing to hinder
them of their accustomed sports ; and that if, according to the
ancient custom, they would send to me for leave, they should
have all the contentment I could give them ; if otherwise, they
would continue their wonted course, I would do my best to
hinder them. Within a month after, they came and hunted as
they used to do, without leave, and cut down wood, and carried
it away. Towards the end of summer, they came again to their
wonted sports. I sent my two deputies with all the speed they

B 2

4 CHEUY CHASE.

could make, and they took along with them such gentlemen as
were in their way, with my forty horse, and about one o'clock
they came up to them, and set upon them. Some hurt was
done, but I gave especial order they should do as little hurt, and
shed as little blood as possible they could. They took a dozen of
the principal gentlemen that were there, and brought them to me
to Witherington, where I then lay ; I made them welcome, and
gave them the best entertainment I could ; they lay in the castle
two or three days, and so I sent them home, they assuring me
that they would never hunt again without leave. The Scots king
complained to Queen Elizabeth very grievously of this fact."

" Mr. Addison, in his celebrated criticism on that ancient
ballad of Chevy Chase, Sped. No. 20, mistakes the ground of the
quarrel. It was not any particular animosity or deadly feud
between the two principal actors, but was a contest of privilege
and jurisdiction between them, respecting their offices, as lords
wardens of the marches assigned." Extract from the Eeport of
Sir Thomas Carlton, of Carlton Hall, 1547, in Hutchinson's
History of Cumberland, pp. 28-9.

The general spirit of the ballad then is historical. But the
details are not authentic. " That which is commonly sung of the
Hunting of Cheviot," says Grodscroft, writing in his James VI.'s
time, and apparently referring to a version of the ballad then
circulating in Scotland, " seemeth indeed poetical and a mere
fiction, perhaps to stir up virtue ; yet a fiction whereof there is
no mention, either in Scottish or English Chronicle." An event
to which it might possibly refer according to Collins, in his
Peerage, was the Battle of Pepperden, fought in 1436, as Hector
Boethius informs us, " not far from the Cheviot hills, between the
Earl of Northumberland, and Earl William Douglas of Angus,
with a small army of about four thousand men each, in which
the latter had the advantage. As this seems tp have been a
private conflict between these two great chieftains of the Borders,

CHEUY CHASE. 5

rather than a national war, it has been thought to have given
rise to the celebrated old ballad of Chevy Chase ; which to render
it more pathetic and interesting, has been heightened with
tragical incidents wholly fictitious." But in any case these were
great Border names. Percy and Douglas were typical chieftains.
Moreover on the field of Otterbourne a Percy and a Douglas had
fought fiercely together, man against man, under very similar
circumstances. That field was much celebrated in Border poetry,
and elsewhere. The ballad on the Hunting of the Cheviot, —
borrowed largely from that on the Battle of Otterbourne, — was,
in fact, in course of time believed to celebrate the same event.
Observe these lines of it :

This was the Hontynge of the Cheviat ;

That tear began this spurn :
Old men that knowen the grownde well yenough ;

Call it the Battell of Otterburn.

This attempt made at the identification of two actions is
noticeable. We are afraid that the " old men " scarcely knew
the ground well enough. Otterbourne is but some 30 miles from
Newcastle. Douglas met Percy, the " Hunting " tells us, in
Teviotdale. In a word, the two ballads represent two different
features of the old Border life — the Baid and the defiant Hunt.
But they had much in common, and so were soon confused
together.

Of the battle of Otterbourne, fought in 1388, there are
historical accounts in abundance — Fordun's, Froissart's, Holin-
shed's, Godscroft's. See Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. Of
the ballad concerning it — whose account is mainly accurate —
indeed the facts somewhat trammel the poet's wings, — there are
three versions : the English one, given by Percy in his Reliques,
from a Harl. MS. in the earlier editions, from a more perfect
Cotton MS. (Cleop. iv. f. 64) in the fourth, and two Scotch ones,
to be found, one in the Minstrelsy, the other in Herd's Scottish

b CHEUY CHASE.

Songs. The differences between the English and Scotch versions
are such as might be expected — are of a patriotic kind. The
main difference between the two Scotch versions relates to the
death of Douglas.

Of the versions of "the Hunting of the Cheviat," that preserved
in the Folio is, as we have said, the modernised one ; not that
heard by Sidney, who calls what he heard " the rude and ill-
apparelled song of a barbarous age ; " a description not applicable
to the present version. When this modernisation was made,
cannot be said exactly. " That it could not be much later than
Queen Elizabeth's time," says Percy, " appears from the phrase
' doleful dumps ; ' which in that age carried no ill sound with it,
but to the next generation became ridiculous. We have seen it
pass uncensured in a sonnet that was at that time in request, and
where it could not fail to have been taken notice of, had it been
the least exceptionable [in " a song to the lute in Musicke " from
the Paradise of Daintie Devises, 1596], yet in about half a
century after, it was become burlesque. Vide Hudibras, Pt. i.
c. iii. v. 95." Its presence in the Folio MS. shows that it was not
made later than the first half of the seventeenth century. It
soon became the current version. Addison in his critique in the
Spectator knows of no other. A comparison of it with the old
versions will show, besides one or two verbal blunders, that much
of its vigour has been lost in the process of translation.

Of all our ballads this perhaps has enjoyed the widest popu-
larity, both North and South of the Tweed. This popularity has
scarcely ever decayed. It was translated into rhyming Latin
verses by a Mr. Wold of New College, Oxford, at the instance of
Dr. Compton, Bishop of London, in 1685.

Vivat Eex noster nobilis,

Omnis in tuto sit ;
Venatus olim flebilis

Chevino luco fit.

It circulated on many a broad sheet. It was eulogised in

CIIEUY CHASE.

the Spectator in Queen Anne's reign. It was printed wherever
anything of the kind was printed in the succeeding years, when
such things were held in but slight esteem. It is as it were the
Epic of Border poetry.

(jOD Prosper long our noble Kmg,

our liffes & saftyes all !
a woefull hunting once there was
4 in Cheuy Chase befall.

to driue the deere with hound and borne

Erie Pearcy took the way :
the Child may rue that is vnborne
8 the bunting of that day !

[page 188]

A woeful
hunt was
held in
Chevy
Chase.

Earl Percy

the stout Erie of Northumberland

a vow to god did make,
bis pleasure in the Scottish woods
12 3 sommers days to take ;

vowed to
kill Scotch
deer for
three days.

the cbeefest harts in Cheuy C[h]ase

to kill & beare away,
these tydings to Erie douglas came
16 in Scottland where he Lay,

wbo sent Erie Pearcy present word

be wold prevent bis sport,
the English Erie, not fearing that, 1
20 did to the woods resort

Douglas

said he'd
stop that
sport.

But Percy

went to his
hunt

■with 1500 2 bowmen bold,

all chosen men of Might,
wbo knew ffull well in time of neede
24 to ayme their shafts arrigbt.

with 1500
bowmen,

1 this.— P.

2000.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

and on

Monday
began his
hunt.

By noon 100
bucks are
slain.

After
dinner, they

hunt again,

and the hills
echo their
cries.

the Gallant Greyhound l swiftly ran

to Chase the fallow deere ;
on Munday they began to hunt
28 ere 2 daylight did appeare ;

& long before high noone the had

a 100 fatbuckes slaine.
then hauing dined, the drouyers went
32 to rouze the deare 3 againe ;

The Bowmen mustered on the hills,

well able to endure ;
theire backsids all with speciall care
36 that they 4 were guarded sure.

the hounds ran swiftly through the woods

the Mmble deere to take,
that with. 5 their cryes the hills & dales
40 an Eccho shrill did make.

Percy

wonders
whether
Douglas will
appear.

"There he is,

with 2000
men ! "

Lord Pearcy to the Querry 6 went

to veiw the tender deere ;
quoth, he, " Erie douglas promised once
44 this day to meete me heere ;

" but if I thought he wold not come,

noe longer wold I stay."
with that a braue younge gentlman
48 thus to the Erie did say,

" Loe, yonder doth Erie douglas come,

hys men in armour bright,
fall 20 hundred 7 Scottish speres
52 all Marching in our sight,

1 greyhounds. — P.

2 when. — P.

3 them up. — P.
* that day .—P.

5 And with.— P.

6 Quarry. — P.

7 15,00.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

" all pleasant men of Tiuydale l

fast by the riuer Tweede."
" ceaze youv sportts ! " 2 Erie Pearcy said,

" and take jour bowes with speede,

Percy calls
on his men

" & now with me, my conntrymen,

yo«r courage forth advance !
for there was neuer Champion yett 3
60 in Scottland nor in ffrance

to be brave ;

" that euer did on horsbacke come,

& if my hap 4 it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
64 with him to breake a spere."

Erie douglas on his 5 Milke white steede,

Most Like a Baron bold,

rode formost of his company,

68 whose armour shone like gold :

he will fight
anyone,

man to man.

Douglas

[page 189]

" shew me," sayd hee, " whose men you bee

that hunt soe boldly heere,
that without my consent doe chase
72 & kill my fallow deere."

the first man that did 6 answer make

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

" yett wee will 7 spend our deerest blood

thy cheefest 8 harts to slay."
then douglas swore a solempne oathe,
80 and thus in rage did say,

asks whose
men they arc
that hunt

his deer.

Percy

will not tell,

but will
fight for the
right to
hunt.

Douglas
declares

1 men of pleasant Tiviotdale. — P.

2 Then cease sport. — P.

3 For ne'er was there a champion. — P.

4 but if my hap. — P.

5 a.— P.

6 man that first did. — P.

7 will we. — P.

8 the choicest. — P.

CHEUY CHASE.

that one of
them must
die,

and as it

would

be wrong to

kill their

guiltless

men,

"Ere thus I will outbraued bee,

one of vs tow shall dye !
I know thee well ! an Erie thou art,
84 Lord Pearcy ! soe am I ;

" but trust me, Pearcy e, pittye it were,

& great offence, to Kill
then any of these our guiltlesse l men,
88 for they haue done none ill 2 ;

he chal-
lenges Percy
to single
combat.
Percy
accepts.

" Let thou 3 & I the battell trye,

and set our men aside."
" accurst bee [he !] " Erie 4 Pearcye sayd,
92 "by whome it is denyed."

A squire,

Withering-
ton,
protests

then stept a gallant Squire forth, —

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

that he'll
not look on
while Percy
fights :

he'll fight
too.

The English
archers
shoot, and
kill 80 Scots.

" that ere my captaine fought on foote,

& I stand looking on ■
you bee 2 Erles," 5 qtioth. witheringhton,
100 " & I a Squier alone,

" He doe the best that doe I may, 6

while I haue power to stand !
while I haue power to weeld my 7 sword,
104 He fight with hart & hand ! "

Our English archers bend 8 their bowes —

their harts were good & trew, —
att the first flight of arrowes sent,
108 full foure score scotts 9 the slew.

1 harmless. — P.

2 no ill.— P.
s thee.— P.

4 he, Lord.— P.

5 Lords.- P.

6 that e'er I may. — P.

7 a.— P.

8 Scottish bent.— P.

9 they 4 score English.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

112

to driue the deere with hound & home,

dauglas l Bade on the bent ;
2 Captaines 2 moued with Mickle might, 3

their speres to shiuers went.

they closed full fast on euerye side,

noe slacknes there was found,
but 4 many a gallant gentleman
116 Lay gasping on the ground.

The foes
close,

and many
are slain.

Christ ! it was great greeue 5 to see

how eche man chose his spere, 6
& how the blood out of their brests 7
120 did gush like water cleare ! 8

Christ! it
was sad to

see.

at last these 2 stout Erles 9 did meet

Like Captaines of great might ;
like Lyons moods 10 they Layd on Lode, 11
124 the made a cruell fight.

Percy and
Douglas

fight

the fought, vntill they both did sweat,

with swords of tempered Steele,
till blood [a-]downe their cheekes like raine
128 the trickling downe did feele. 12

till their
blood drops
like rain.

" O yeeld thee, Pearcye ! " 13 Douglas sayd,

" & 14 infaith I will thee bringe
where thou shall high advanced bee
132 by lames our Scottish K.ing ;

Douglas
calls on
Percy to
yield.

1 The Scotch Editor thinks this sh? be
Piercy. — P.

2 a cap*. — P.

3 pride. — P.

4 and.— P.

5 grief. — P.

6 And likewise for to hear. — P.

7 The Cries of Men lying in their
gore. — P.

8 And lying here & there. — P.

9 Lords.— P.

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

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

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

13 yield the Lord P.— P.
" d.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

" thy ransome I will freely giuc,

& this i report of thee,
thou art the most couragious Knight
136 [that ever I did see. 2 ] "

Percy will
never yield
to a Scot.

"Noe, Douglas ! " quoth. Erie 3 Percy then, [pageiao

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

An English
arrow

kills
Douglas,

with that there came an arrow keene

out of an english bow,
who 4 scorke Erie douglas on the brest 5
144 a deepe and deadlye blow ;

exhorting
his men to
fight.

who neuer sayd 6 more words then these,

" fight on, my merry men all !
for why, my life is att [an] end,
148 LorcZ Pearcy sees my 7 fall."

Percy

laments
over his
dead foe ;

then leauing liffe, Erie Pearcy tooke

the dead man by the hand ;
who 8 said, " Erie dowglas ! for thy 9 sake
152 wold I had lost my Land !

a braver

knight ne'er
died.

" O christ ! my verry hart doth bleed

for 10 sorrow for thy sake !
for sure, a more redoubted n Knight,
156 Mischance cold 12 neuev take ! "

• ' thus.— P.

2 That ever I did see.— P.

3 Lord.— P.

4 which. — P. scorke, for storke, stroke,
struck; skorke means scorch; see
skorche in HalliwelTs Gloss. — F.

* to y heart. — P.

6 spake. — P.

7 me.— P.

8 And.- I'.
life.— P.

10 with. -P.

" renowned. — P.

12 did.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

In
6

ICO

a Knight amongst the scotts there was,
which. x saw Erie Douglas dye,

who straight in hart did vow revenge
vpon the Lord 2 Pearcye ;

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

2' parte.

[Part II.]

Sir Hugh Mountgomerye was he called,
who, w/th a spere full bright,

well monnted on a gallant steed,
ran feircly through the fight,

gallops to

And 3 past the English archers all

without all dread or feare,
& through Erie Percyes Body then
168 he thrust his hatfull spere

him, and

runs him

w/th such a vehement force & might
that his body he did gore, 4

the staff ran s through the other side
a large cloth yard & more.

right

through the
body.

thus G did both those Nobles dye,
whose courage none cold staine.
an English archer then perceiued
176 the Noble Erie was Blaine,

An English
archer

he had [a] good bow 7 in his hand

made of a trusty tree ;
an arrow of a cloth yard long 8
180 to the hard head haled 9 hee,

1 that.— P.
- Earl.— P.

3 He.— P.

4 His body he did gore. — P.
6 spear went. — P.

6 So thus.— P.

7 a bow Lent. — P.

8 length. — P.

B unto the head drew. — P.

CHEUY CHASE.

shoots Mont-
gomery

through the
heart.

against Sir Hugh Mountgomerye '

his shaft full right 2 he sett ;
the grey goose winge that was there-on,
184 in his harts bloode 3 was wett.

The fight
lasts all day.

this fight from breake of day did last 4

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

Names of
the English
knights
slain.

with 5 stout Erie Percy there was slaine 6

Sir Iohn of Egerton, 7
Sir Robert Harcliffe & Sir William, 8
192 Sir lames that bold barron ;

& with Sir George & 9 Sir lames,
both Knights of good account ;
& good Sir Raphe Rebbye 10 there was slaine,
196 whose prowesse u did surmount.

Withering-
ton fights on
his stumps
when his
legs are cut
off.

for witherington needs must I wayle

as one in too full l2 dumpes,
for when his leggs were smitten of,
200 he fought vpon his stumpes.

Names of
the Scotch
knights
slain.

And with Erie dowglas there was slaine

Sir Hugh Mountgomerye,
13 & Sir Charles Morrell H that from feelde
204 one foote wold neuer flee ;

1 then.— P.

2 so right his shaft. — P.

3 heart-blood. — P.

4 did last from break. — P.
8 the.— P.

6 There is a dot for the i, but nothing
more in the MS.— F.

7 Ogerton. — P.

8 Eatcliffe & Sir John.— P.

9 Sir George also & good. — P.

10 Good .... Babby.— P.

11 courage. — P.

12 doleful.— P.
,3 d.— P.

14 Murray.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

208

Sir Roger Heuer of Harcliife tow, — l
his sisters sonne was hee, —

Sir david Lamb well well 2 esteemed,
but saved be cold 3 not bee ;

& the hord Maxwell in like case 4

w«'th Douglas he did dye ; 5
6 of 20 7 hundred Scottish speeres,
212 scarce 55 did five ;

Of 2000
Scotch
scarce 55
were left ;

of 1500 Englishmen

went home but 53 6 ;
the rest in Cheuy chase were slaine,
216 Vnder the greenwoode tree.

of 1500
English,
only 53.

[page 191]

Next day did many widdowes come

their husbands to bewayle ;
they washt 8 their wounds in brinish teares,
220 but all wold not 9 prevayle.

Next day
the widows
come,
and weep,

theyr bodyes bathed in purple blood,

the bore with them away,
tbey kist them dead a 1000 times
224 ere the 10 were cladd in clay.

and carry
the corpses
off

to the grave.

the u newes was 12 brought to Eddenborrow

where Scottlands ~K.ing did rayne,
that braue Erie Douglas soddainlye
228 was With an arrow slaine.

1 Sir Cha. Murray of Eatcliffe too.— P.

2 Lamb so well. — P.

3 yet saved could. — P.

4 wise. — P.

5 did with Earl D 8 . die.— P.
6 — 6 Of 1500 Scottish spears

went home but 53,

Of 20,00 Englishmen
scarce 55 did flee. — P.

7 15.— P.

8 MS. they washt they.— F. d.— P.

9 could not.— P.
10 when they. — P.

" These.— P. 12 were.— P.

CHEUY CHASE.

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

King Henry

laments
Percy's loss ;

he has 500
as good still
left,

but he will
take ven-
geance

for Percy's
death.

And he did
on Humble
Downe,

killing
Lords, and

hundreds of
less account.

God grant

that strife
between
noble men
may cease !

" i heauy newes ! " Kmg lames can say,

" Scottland may wittenesse bee
I haue not any Captame more
232 of such account as hee ! ' :

like ty dings to Kmg Henery came

within as short a space,
that Pearcy of Northumberland
236 in Cheuy chase was slaine. 2

"Now god be with him ! " said our K»/,

" sith it will noe better bee, 3
I trust I haue within my realme
240 500 as good as hee !

" 4 yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say

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

4 this vow the King did well performe

after on humble downe ;
in one day 50 Knights were slayne,
248 with Lords of great renowne,

& 5 of the rest of small 6 account,

did many hundreds dye :
thus endeth the hunting in 7 Cheuy Chase
252 made 8 by the Erie Pearcye.

God saue our 9 King, and blesse this 10 land

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

ffins.

1 Now God be with him, cried our king,

Sith will no better be !
I trust I hare &c. — P.

2 Was slain in Chevy Chase. — P.

3 O heavy news, K. Henry said,

Engl? can witness be. — P.

4 These 2 stanzas omitted in y e Scotch
Edition. — P. See note, p. 1 . — F.

5 Now.— P. 6 m ean.— P.
7 of.— P. » led.— P.

9 the.— P. io the.— P.

WL\)t\\ %o\xt irn'tft fmumfinrtu 1

Lovelace's songs were in great request in his day. They were
set to music by popular composers of the time, — by Dr. John
Wilson, by Mr. John Laniere, by Mr. Henry Lawes whom Dante
was to give Fame leave to set higher than his Casella — and
circulated widely in Koyalist Society. Till 1649 — the author
was born in 1618 — they led a scattered and wandering life. In
that year they were gathered together and published in a volume
entitled " Lucasta, Epodes, Odes, Sonnets, Songs, &c. to which is
added Aramantha a Pastorall, by Richard Lovelace, Esq." Mean-
while there were, no doubt, in vogue many versions of the greater
favourites, more or less inaccurate. The copy of the exquisite
song beginning " When Love with unconfined wings," here
printed from the Folio MS., is one of these.

Of all the Cavalier poets Lovelace is the most charming. He
is a true cavalier ; he is a true poet. The world, that has long-
turned away its ear from Cowley and Cleveland, still listens to
his sweet voice. Are there any gems brighter than his song " to
Lucasta on going to the Wars," or that to " Althea from Prison " ?
How chivalrous the thought of them ! How tremulously delicate
the expression !

His life was full of sadness. The son of a Kentish knight,
educated at the Charterhouse and at Gloucester Hall, Oxford,

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

VOL. II. C

18 WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS.

" the most amiable and beautiful person that eye ever beheld, a
person also of innate modesty, virtue and courtly deportment,
which made him then [at Oxford], but especially after, when he
retired to the great city, most admired and adored by the female
sex." Thus physically endowed, thus happily circumstanced, he
was yet crossed in love, and died in a state of destitution.

Lucy Sacheverell — the Lux Casta or Lucasta of his poems,
from the nunnery of whose chaste breast and quiet mind he had
fled to war and arms, that "dear" whom he loved so much
because he loved honour more — misled by a report that he had
died of wounds received at Dunkirk while commanding a regi-
ment, of his own forming, in the service of the French king,
became the wife of somebody else. The close of the civil war,
in which he had devoted both his services and his fortunes to his
king's cause, found him beggared. His loyalist zeal got him
twice into prison. " During the time of his confinement," says
Wood of the first imprisonment, " he lived beyond the income of
his estate, either to keep up the credit and reputation of the
king's cause by furnishing men with horses and arms, or by
relieving ingenious men in want, whether scholars, musicians,
soldiers, &c. ; also by furnishing his two brothers Colonel Franc.
Lovelace, and Capt. Will. Lovelace (afterwards slain at Caer-
marthen) with men and money for the king's cause, and his
other brother called Dudley Posthumus Lovelace with monys
for his maintenance in Holland to study tactics of fortification in
that school of war." " After the murther of King Charles I.,
Lovelace was set at liberty [from his second captivity], and
having by that time consumed all his estate, grew very melan-
choly (which brought him at length into a consumption), became
very poor in body and purse, was the object of charity, went in
ragged cloaths (whereas when he was in his glory he wore cloth of
gold and silver), and mostly lodged in obscure and dirty places,
more befitting the worst of beggars and poorest of servants, &c. . .

WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS. 19

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

collections for him and given him money Geo. Petty,

haberdasher, in Fleet Street, carryed XXs to him every Munday

morning from Sir Many, and Charles Cotton, Esq., for

months, but was never repay'd." He died in 1658, and so was
saved from experiencing Stuart gratitude. These accounts of
his dismal indigence may perhaps be coloured. But there can
be no doubt he ended in extreme poverty, in a sad contrast to
the brilliancy of his early days.

The following song was written during his first captivity. He
had been chosen by his county to present a Petition to the House
of Commons " for the restoring of the king to his rights, and for
setling the government." He presented it, and by way of answer
was committed to the Grate House at Westminster. But his mind,
innocent and quiet, took his prison for a hermitage. His gaolers
heard him singing in his bonds. Love with wings that brooked
no confinement hovered near him. Brought by that chainless
spirit, the divine Althea came to visit him in his durance. She
led away the captive into a second captivity. With her fair hair
she wove fresh bonds for him ; she laid on new fetters with her
eyes. But he revelled in these chains. Having freedom in his
soul, angels alone that are above enjoyed such liberty.

wings

W HEN Love with vnconfined

hovers within my gates,
& my divine Althea brings loveviSts

to whisper at my grates,

c 2

my prison,

WHEN LOUE WITH VNCONFINED WINGS.

I am free
as a bird.

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

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

When I,
confined,
sing my
king's
goodness,

I am free i
the winds.

When, Lynett like confined, I
with shriller note shall sing
the mercy, goodnesse, maiestye
12 & glory of my kinge,

when I shall voice aloud how good

he is, how great shold bee,
the enlarged winds that curies the floods 2
16 enioyes such Lybertye.

When I
drink with
boon com-
panions

to our cause,

I am as free
as a fish.

When flowing cupps run swiftly round

with, woe-allaying theames,
our carlesse heads with roses crowned,
20 our harts with Loyall flames,

when thirsty soules in wine wee steepe,

when cupps and bowles goe free,
ffishes that typle in the deepe
24 enioyes such Lybertye.

Though in
prison,

yet with a
pure soul

and free
love,

I am free as
an angel.

Stone walls doe not a prison make,

nor Iron barrs a cage,
the spotlesse soule an[d] Inocent 3
28 Calls this an hermitage. 3
if I haue freedome in my loue,

& in my soule am free,
angells alone that sores aboue
32 enioyes such Lybertye !

ffins.

Tpage 192]

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

2 flood.— P.

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

Clorfe* 1

Several collections of Waller's Poems appeared as early as
1645, while he was living in France. The first edition "corrected
and publish'd with the approbation of the Author " came out in
1664. "When the Author of these verses," says the Printer to
the Eeader in this one, " (written only to please himself and such
particular persons to whom they were directed), returned from
abroad some years since, He was troubled to find his name in
print, but somewhat satisfied to see his lines so ill rendered, that
he might justly disown them, and say to a mistaking Printer, as
one did to an ill Eeciter, male dum recitas, incipis esse tuum.
Having been ever since pressed to correct the many and gross
faults (such as use to be in impressions wholly neglected by the
authors) his answer was, That he made these when ill verses had
more favour and escaped better than good ones do in this age,
the severity whereof he thought not unhappily diverted by these
faults in the impression, which hitherto have hung upon his
Book, as the Turks hang old raggs (or such like ugly things)
upon their fairest Horses, and other goodly creatures, to secure
them against fascination ; and for those of a more confind
understanding (who pretend not to censure) as they admire most
what they least comprehend, so his Verses (mained to that degree
that himself scarce knew what to make of many of them), might
that way at least have a title to some Admiration, which is no
small matter, if what an old Author observes be true, that the

1 An elegant old song writton by Mr. Waller. See his Poems. — P.

22 CLORIS.

aim of Orators is Victory, of Historians Truth, and of Poets
Admiration ; He had reason, therefore, to indulge those faults
in his Book whereby It might be reconciled to some, and
commended to others." But the considerations expressed in this
longwinded and somewhat confusing manner, were overcome by
the importunity of the worthy Printer, and the Poet at last gave
leave " to assure the Eeader, that the Poems which have been so
long and so ill set forth under his name, are here to be found as
he first writ them, as also to add some others which have since
been composed by him." The following song does not occur in
this edition; nor in that of 1682, "the Fourth Edition with
several Additions never before printed." It appears in that of
1711, "the eight edition, with additions," and no doubt in
several of the preceding editions.

The song is a fair specimen of Waller's average style. It
exhibits his faults, and his merits — his affectation, and strained
gallantry, with something of his elegance and grace.

His life was not a noble one. He was not inspired by that
spirit which enabled Lovelace to sing that

Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage.

He lived from 1605 to 1687, from the year of the Gunpowder
Treason to the year before the Revolution. He sat in Parlia-
ment, for various places, from his nineteenth year to his death,
except from 1643 to the Restoration, in which period his
connection with the Royalist Plot of 1643 suspended his
public life.

cioris, i (jLORIS, farwell ! I needs must goe !

must go,

for if with thee I longer stay,
thine eyes prevayle upon me soe,
sight. 4 I shall grow blynd & lose my way. 1

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

CLORIS.

ffame of thy bewty & thy youth,

amongst the rest me hither brought ;
but finding fame fall short of truth,
8 made me 1 stay longer then I thought.

Report
brought me
hither ;

your beauty

keeps me.

ffor I am engaged by word [and] othe

a servant to anothers will ;
but for thy loue wold forfitt both,
12 were I but sure to keepe itt still.

Though I
am be-
trothed,

I'd break
my troth if
I could
secure you ;

But what assurance can I take,

when thou, fore-knowing this abuse,
for some [more 2 ] worthy louers sake
1 6 mayst leaue me with soe lust excuse.

ffor thou wilt say it, " it was 3 not thy fault

that I to thee 4 vnconstant proue,
but were by mine 5 example taught
20 to breake thy othe to mend thy loue."

but how
could I ?

You'd jilt
me, and

plead my
example as
your excuse.

Noe, Cloris, Nbe ! I will returne,

& rayse thy story to that height
that strangers shall att distance burne,
24 & shee distrust thee 6 reprobate.

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

Then shall my loue this Doubt displace,

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

seeing you
sometimes
but loving
my own
love.

1 my. Qu.— P.

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

3 is.— P.

4 thou to me. Qu. — P.

5 One stroke too few in the MS.— F.
mee. Qu. — P.

€\n kinge entopesf fits rfgi)[te agate*] 1

This song occurs in the Roxburghe Collection of Ballads,
iii. 256, in the Loyal Garland containing choice Songs and
Sonnets of our late Revolution (London, 1671, Eeprinted by
the Percy Society), in a Collection of Loyal Songs, in Eitson's
Ancient Songs. Mr. Chappell, in his Popular Music of the
Olden Time, ii. 434-9, gives the air to which it was sung, along
with much information concerning it (which should be read), and
nine more stanzas than are included in our Folio. It was written
by Martin Parker, as appears from the following extract from
the Gossips' Feast or Morall Tales, 1647 : "The gossips were
well pleased with the contents of this ancient ballad, and
Gammer Growty-legs replied e By my faith, Martin Parker never
got a fairer brat ; no, not when he penn'd that sweet ballad,
When the King injoyes his own again.'' " It was an extreme
favourite with the Cavaliers.

Booker, Pond, Eivers, Swallow, Dove, Dade, and Hammond,
were eminent astrologers and almanack-makers. See Ritson,
and Chappell, ii. 437, note a .

W HAT Booker can prognosticate,
Who can consider [ilng now the kin^domes state ?

foretell .

I thinke my selfe to be as wise
4 as he that gaseth 2 on the skyes ;

my skill goes beyond the depth of Pond 3
or Riuers in the greatest raine,
Khi C g\vm wherby I can tell that all things will goe well

own y again ? 8 when the King enioyes his rights againe.

1 An old Cavilier Song.— P. 2 gazeth.— P. 3 ponds.— P.

TIIE K.INGE ENIOYES HIS RIGHTS AGAINE.

There is neither swallow, done nor dade,

can sore more high, or deeper wade

to shew a reason from the starres,' ,
12 what causeth these our chiill warres.

the man in the moone may weare out his shoo[ne *]
in running after Charles his wayne ;

but all is to noe end, for the times will not me[nd 2 ]
16 till the K.ing enioyes his right againe.

No stargazer
can tell
what causes
our civil
wars.

The times
won't mend
till the King
has his own.

ffull 40 yeeres his royall crowne

hath beene his fathers and his owne,

& is there any more nor 3 hee
20 that in the same shold sharrers 4 bee,

or who better may the scepter sway
then he that hath such rights to raine ?

there is noe hopes of a peace, or the war to ce[ase 5 ],
24 till the Kdng enioyes his right againe.

Who has
better right
to the crown
than our
King?

Although for a time you see Whitehall

with cobwebbs hanging on the wall

insteed of silkes & siluer braue
28 wh/ch fformerly ['t] was 6 wont [to] haue,

with a sweete perfume in euerye roome
delightfull to that princely traine :

■which, againe shalbe when the times you see
32 that the King enioyes bis right againe. 7

ffins.

[page 193]

Though
Whitehall is
all cobwebs
now,

soon it will
be silks

and per-
fumes,

when the
King enjoys
his right
again.

1 shoone. — P.

2 mend. — P.

3 than.— P.

4 sharers. — P.

5 cease. — P.

6 formerly 't was. — P.

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

€\n 3(£cppttait (Butm* 1

This song under the title of Mark Anthony is found, minus
vv. 13-20 inclusive, in Poems by J. C. 1651, the first edition
of Cleveland's Poems, and in such of the many subsequent ones
as we have examined, those of 1654 (B. in the notes below), of
1677 (C. in the notes), and of 1687 (D. in the notes). Our copy
is probably a bad one of the verses before they were printed,
when lines 13-20 were cut out. The song is marked by Cleve-
land's characteristic vigour and tendency to " conceits."

John Cleveland sang and suffered much in the Eoyal cause.
Educated at Christ's College, elected a Fellow of St. John's
College, Cambridge — " To cherish such hopes," says an old
biographer of him, " the Lady Margaret drew forth both her
breasts " — he joined the King at Oxford when the breach with
the Parliament became irreparable, and gallantly adhered to the
King's fortunes to the end. After the capture of Newark, when
he was Judge Advocate, he seems to have led, for some years, a
life of wretched vagrancy. In 1655 he was taken prisoner. He
made an appeal to Cromwell, which was heard. He did not live
to see the restoration of the race which he had served with all his
trenchant wit, with the truest devotion. April 29, 1659, is the
date of his death.

As the copy in our folio MS. is corrupt in many places, we
give here the copy from the first edition of 1651, collated with
the editions of 1654, 1677, and 1687.

MAEK ANTHONY.
WHEN as the Nightingale chanted her Vespers,
And the wild Forester couch'd on the ground,
Venus invited me in th' Evening whispers,
4 Unto a fragrant field with Hoses crown 'd :

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

THE ^EGIFTIAN QUENE. 27

Where she before had sent
My wishes complement,
Unto my hearts content
8 Plaid with me on the Green,

Never Mark Anthony

Dallied more wantonly

"With the fair Egyptian Queen.

12 First on her cherry cheeks I mine eyes feasted,
Then ' fear of surfeiting made me retire :
Next on her warm 2 lips, which when I tasted,
My duller spirits made 3 active as fire.
16 Then we began to dart
Each at anothers heart,
Arrows that knew no smart :
Sweet lips and smiles between,

20 Never Mark, $c.

Wanting a glass to plate her amber tresses,
Which like a bracelet rich decked mine arm,
Gawdier then Juno wears when as she graces

21 Jove with embraces more stately than warm.

Then did she peep in mine
Eyes humour Christalline ;
I in her eyes was seen,
28 As if we one had been.
Never Mark, SfC.

Mystical Grammar of amorous glances,
Feeling of pulses the Physick of Love,
32 Rhetorical courtings and Musical Dances ;
Numbring of kisses Arithmetick prove.
Eyes like Astronomy,
Streight limb'd Geometry :
3G In her heart's ingeny

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

W HEN" as the Nightingale chanted her vesper, 4 At eve

& the wyld fayryes lay coucht 5 on the ground,
Venus invited me to an euening Wisper, 6 my Love

n -i invited me

4 to fragrant feelds ' with roses crounde to toy with

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

2 warmer. — B. CD. of the forrest. — P.

3 made me. — C. D. ' in th' evening whispers. — P,

4 her vespers. — P. ' Unto a frag 1 , field. — P.

5 forrester coucht.

THE iEGIPTIAN QUENE.

her in the
fields.

We dallied
like Antony
and Cleo- 8

patra.

I looked at
her cheeks,

kissed her
lips,

pressed her
hand,

twined mine
in her hair,

gazed in her
eyes.

Her tresses
deckt my

which. l shee before had sent her cheefest complement,
Vnto my 2 harts content sport 3 with me on the
greene ;

Neuer marke Anthony dallyed more wantonly
"WVth his fayre iEgiptian queene 4 !

ffirst on her Cherry cheekes I my eyes 5 feasted ;

thence feare of surffetting made me retyre,
then to her warmed [lips], 6 which when I tasted,

my spiritts dnld were made actiue by 7 fyer.
8 this heat againe to calme, her moyst hand yeelderd
balme ;

whilest wee Ioyned 9 palme to palme as if wee one
had beene,
Neuer marke Anthony dallyed more wantonly

with his fayre Cor 10 egiptian queene !

Then in her golden heere u I my hands twined ;

shee her hands in my lockes twisted againe,
as if her heere had beene fetters assigned,

Sweet litle Cupid 12 Loose captiue 13 to chayne ;
soe did wee often dart one at anothers hart

arrows that felt 14 noe smart, sweet lookes and
smiles ' 5 between.
Neuer, &c.

24 Wa[yting a glass to platt] those amoras tresses 16
which, like a [bracelet] deckt richly mine arme,

1 Where.— P.
'puts my wishes

For her cheefest Percy
F.
And to my. query. — P.
Play'd.— P.

Only half the n in the MS.— P.
mine eyes. — P.
warmer lips. — P.
active as. — P.

N.B. from hence to [So did we
often dart] is wanting in the printed
Copy.— P.

9 A t is between Ioyned and palme in
the MS. as if wee one had beene has
been first written as a separate line, then

struck out and written after palme ; then
one had bee" was struck out, and copied
in again by Percy. — P.

10 ? MS.— F.

11 haire. — P.

12 After the d Percy puts 's. — F.

13 After the e Percy adds s. — F.

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

15 Lipps and smiles. — P.

16 Way ting a glass to platt (plait) her
amber tresses.— P. The ink of the
heading The king enioyes on the back
has eaten the MS. away. — F.

THE jEGIPTIAN QUENE.

gaudyer then Iu.no was which. 1 when shee blessed 2 arm like a

, bracelet ;

lone with Euers races 3 more richly 4 thein warme.
28 shee sweetely peept in eyrie that was more cristalline,

which, by reflection shine ech eye and eye was seene. she peept

, T „ sweetly at

JNeuer, &c. me,

Misticall grammers 5 of 6 amorus glances,
32 feeHng of pulses, the phisicke of loue,
Retoricall courtings & musicall dances,

numbring of kisses arithemeticke proues 7 ;
Eyes like astronomy, strayght limbes geometry,
36 in her harts enginy 8 ther eyes & eyes were seene. 9

Neue? - , &c.

ffins.

and in her

glances

I saw kisses
alone.

1 Juno wears. — P.

2 presses (graces) Pr. Copy. — P.

3 So in the MS. — F. embraces. — P.

4 stately. P.C.— P.

5 grammars; grammar of: pr. Copy.
— P. Note the Seven Sciences — Grammar,
Physic, Ehetoric, Music, Arithmetic,

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

8 Arts Ingeny. — P.

9 our wits were sharp and keen.
Printed Copy. — P.

[" The Mode of France" and " Be not affrayd" printed in Lo. and
Hum. Songs, p. 45-8, follow here in the MS.']

^oltotue me ffanrpe*

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

Mens prcetrepidans avet vagari. Led by Fancy, it throws off
for the nonce the fetters of the body, and " dances through the
welkin." It inspects the phenomena of cloudland, rejoices rerum
cognoscere causas. Then, turning its gaze downwards, it studies
that great ant-hill the earth. It sees mankind rushing to and
fro upon it, with all their various pursuits, humours, passions.
At last the much-travelled spirit wearies. Its wings droop, and it
implores its ever-vigorous guide to lead it no further. The great
world-prospect, with its tumult and turmoil, is too tremendous a
vision. So the spirit hies it back to its home, the body.

Melancholy,
I dance

like an elf

over moun-
tains,
plains,
and woods.

IN: a Melancliolly fancy, out of my selfe,

tliorrow the welkin dance I,

all the world snrvayinge, noe where stayinge ;

like vnto the fiery e elfe, 1

over the topps of hyest mountaines skipping,

oner the plaines, the woods, the valleys, tripping, 2

oner the seas without oare of 3 shipping,

hollow, me fancy ! wither wilt thon goe ?

1 fairy elfe. — P.

Only half the n in the MS.— F.

3 oaro or. — P.

IIOLLOWE ME FANCYE.

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

, n . ' see what the

what are those burning tapors stars and

7-ii • ro ■ meteors are ;

wAich benight vs and affright vs,
12 & what the Meetors l bee.

ffaine wold I know what is the roaring thunder, [ pa g e 195]

& the bright Lightnine: which, cleeues the clouds in what the

o o o thunder,

Sunder, lightning,

& what the cometts are att w7«ch men gaze & wonder, and comets.
16 Hollow, me &c.

Looke but downe below me where you may be bold,

where none can see or know mee ;

all the world of gadding, running of madding,
20 none can their stations hold :

One, he sitts drooping all in a dumpish passion ;

another, he is for Mirth and recreation ;

the 3?, he hangs his head because hees out of fassion.
24 Hollow, &c.

See, See, See, what a bustling !

Now I descry one another Iustlynge !

how they are turmoyling, one another foyling,
28 & how I past them bye !

hee thats aboue, him thats below 2 despiseth ;

hee thats below, doth enuye him 2 that ryseth ;

euerye man his plot & counter 2 plott deviseth.
32 Hollow.

Shipps, Shipps, Shipps, I descry now !

crossing the maine He goe too, and try now

what they are proiecting & protecting ;
36 & when the turne againe.

One, hees to keepe his country from inuadinge ;

another, he is for Merchandise & tradince :

the other Lyes att home like summers cattle shackling/
40 Hollow.

I'd like to
look down
on the bust-
ling world,

and see one
man in the
dumps,
another all
mirth :

others jost-
ling their
fellows,

high de-
spising low,
low envying
high;

shipmen

projecting

defence
from foes
or gain in
trade.

1 meteors.— P. 2 MS. blotted.— F. 3 ? getting into a shed or the shade.— F

HOLLOWE ME FANCYE.

I can't go
on.

Fancy, come
back to me ;

leave off
soaring,
and keep to
your book.

Hollow, me fancy, hollow !

I pray thee come vnto mee, I can noe longer follow !

I pray thee come & try [me] ; doe not flye me !

44 Sithe itt will noe better bee,

come, come away ! Leave of thy Lofty soringe !

come stay att home, & on this booke be poring !

for he that gads abroad, he bath the lesse in storinge.

45 welcome, my fancye ! welcome home to mee !

ffins.

j^efoarfee* 1

This song may very well have been written, as Percy suggests,
by Cleveland to cheer the garrison of Newark ; when, during
the Eoyalist occupation of it, he was Judge Advocate. See
Introduction to " Egyptian Queen."

" In the reign of Charles I. Newark was garrisoned for the
King, and held in subjection the whole of this country, excepting
the town of Nottingham ; and a great part of Lincolnshire was
laid under contribution ; here that unfortunate sovereign estab-
lished a mint. . . . During this contest the town sustained
three sieges : in the first, all Northgate was burnt by order of the
governor, Sir John Henderson ; in the second, when under the
government of Sir John, afterwards Lord, Byron, the town was
relieved by the arrival from Chester of Prince Eupert, who,
according to Clarendon, in an action between his forces and the
parliamentarians under Sir John Mel drum, on Beacon Hill,
half a mile eastward of the town, took four thousand prisoners
and thirteen pieces of artillery; in the third siege, after the
display of much prowess and several vigorous sallies, the fortress
remained unimpaired ; afterwards Lord Bellasis, then governor,
surrendered the town to the Scottish army, by the King's order,
on the 8th of May, 1646. At the close of this siege, the works
and circumvallations were demolished by the country people,
with the exception of two considerable earth-works, which are
now nearly perfect, and are called the King's Sconce and the
Queen's Sconce ; about this time the castle also was destroyed."
(Lewis' Topogr. Diet, of England.)

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

VOL. II. D

NEWAKKE.

Fill us a
cup!

Here's a
health to
King
Charles.

We dread
not our foes.

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

of cappering sacke & clarett ;
here is a health to Kmj/ Charles ! then drinke it all vp,

his cause will fare better for itt.
did not an ould arke saue noye 2 in a fflood ?

why may not a new arke to vs be vs 3 good ?
wee dread not their forces, they are all made of wood,

then wheele & turne about againe.

If Leslie gets
hold of 'em
he'll play
the devil
and all.

Though all beyond trent be sold to the Scott,

to men of a new protestation
if San dye come there, twill fall to their Lott
12 to haue a new signed possession ;

but if once Lesly gett [them] in his power,
gods Leard ! heele play the devill & all !
but let him take heed how hee comes there,
16 lest Sweetelipps ring him a peale in his eare.

Drink to our
garrison.

I fear no foe,

for our
Maurice is
coming.

Then tosse itt vp merrilye, fill to the brim !

wee haue a new health to remember ;
heeres a health to our garrisons ! drinke it to them,
20 theyle keepe vs all warme in December.
I care not a figg what enemy comes ;

for wee doe account them but hop-of-my-thumbes
for Morrise 4 our prince is coming amaine
24 to rowte & make them run againe.

ffins.

1 MS. vis or vus. — F.

2 Old Ark— Noe.— P.

3 as.— F.

4 Maurice.— P.

gmongsst tt)t mtrtlesu 1

The first collection of Carew's poems was made in 1640, the
year after his death. But many of them had been set to music
during his life ; others no doubt had circulated in MS.

" He was a person," says Clarendon, " of a pleasant and
facetious wit, and made many poems (especially in the amorous
way), which for the sharpness of the fancy and the elegance of
the language in which that fancy was spread, were at least equal,
if not superior to any of that time : but his glory was that after
fifty years of his life spent with less severity or exactness than it
ought to have been, he died with great remorse for that license,
and with the greatest manifestation of Christianity, that his best
friends could desire."

AMongst the Mirtles as I walket,

loue & my thoughts sights this 2 inter-talket :

" tell me," said I in deepe distresse, Where can I

_ __ find my

4 " Where may I mid [_my sneperdesse. d J shepherdess?

" Thou foole ! " said lone, " knowes thou not this ? [page 196]

in euerye thing thats good shee is. She's in ail

that's good,

in yonder tuiepe goe & seeke, her hue in
8 there thou may find her lipp, her cheeke ;

the tulip,

" In yonder enameled Pancye, her eye in

there thou shalt haue her curyous eye ;
in bloome of peach & rosee 4 budd,
12 there wane the streamers of her blood ;

1 A very elegant old song. Writ by omission by Percy. — F.

Mr. Thomas Carew. See his poems, b°. 3 The MS. is cut away. — F.

L. 1640. — P. 4 rosee. — P.

2 thus. — P. ; and sights marked for

1)2

AMONGST THE MI11TLES.

her hand in
the lily,

the scent of
her bosom
on the hills.

"In 1 brightest Lyllyes that lieere stand,
the 2 emhlemes of her whiter hands ;
in yonder rising hill, their smells 3
16 such sweet as in her bosome dwells."

I went to
pluck these
flowers,

but all
vanished.

So shall pass
my joy !

" It is trew," said I ; & therevpon
I went to plucke them one by one
to make of parts a vnyon ;
20 butt on a sudden all was gone.

Wy'th that I stopt, sayd, " loue, 4 these bee,
fond man, resemblance-is of thee 5 ;
& as these flowers, thy Ioyes shall dye
24 Euen in the twinkhng of an eye,

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

ffi[ns.]

1 The.— P.

2 are. — P.

3 there smells. — P.

4 stop'd. S<? Love &c— P.

5 resemblances of thee. — P.

€\)t tom-foe fe r&angefc* 1

Songs of a very similar kind are common enough in the collec-
tions of Koyalist poems : as, for instance, " The Humble Petition
of the House of Commons " in A Collection of Loyal Songs
written against the Rump Parliament between the years 1639
and 1661, 1731.

If Charles tkcm wilt but be so kind
To give us leave to take our mind,

Of all thy store ;
When we thy Loyal Subjects, find
Th'ast nothing left to give behind

We'll ask no more.

and " Pym's Anarchy " in the same collection :

Ask me no more, why there appears
Daily such troops of Dragooners ?
Since it is requisite, you know,
They rob cum privilegio.

Ask me no more, why from Blackwall
Great Tumults come into Whitehall ?
Since it's allow'd, by free consent,
The Privilege of Parliament.

Ask me no more, for I grow dull,

Why Hotham kept the Town of Hull ?

This answer I in brief do sing,

All things were thus when Pym was King.

1HE : world is changed, & wee haue choyces, Not Reason,

but most

not by most reason, but most voyces ; voices rule.

the Lyon is trampled by the Mouse,
4 the lower is the vpper house, The lower

&j_i n ion house is the

thus from, laus 2 orders come, upper.

but now their orders laus 2 frome.
1 A good old Cavilier song. — P. 2 qu. Caus. — F.

THE WORLDE IS CHANGED.

They want
to enslave
their king,

and put him
under Pym.

In all hurnilitye they craue
theire soueraigne to be their slaue,
beseeching him that hee wold bee
betrayd to them most Loyallye ;
for it were Meeknesse soe in him
to be a vice-Roy vntoy Pyim. 1

Charles
would rather
not.

If that hee wold but once Lay downe
his scepter, maiestye, & crowne,
hee shalbe made in time to come
the greatest prince in christendome.
Charles, att this time hauing noe neede,
thankes them as much as if they did.

No petitions
are to be
presented
but their
own.

Petitions none must be presented
2() but what are by themselves inuented,
that once a month the thinke it flitting
to fast from soine 2 because from sittinge
Such blessings to the Land are sent
24 by priuiledge of Parlaiment.

ffins.

1 unto Pym.— P. 2 ? MS. sone, with a dot over the first stroke of the n.—F.

Ci)£ tribe off Banburpe/

This song, not before printed so far as we know, gives an

insolent Cavalier account, put in the mouth of a Puritan, of the

occupation of Banbury by a Royalist force. Banbury was visited

more than once by such a force during the Civil War of 1642-6.

The visit here referred to was paid in the very beginning of the

disturbances, some seventeen days before the Royal Standard was

set up at Nottingham. When the King and the Parliament

each insisted on having the management of the militia, the

former appointed the Earl of Northampton to " array " it in

Warwickshire, the latter Lord Brook. In July the Parliament

granted its deputy six pieces of ordnance to strengthen his castle,

at Warwick. These were conveyed as far as Banbury by the

29th. The attempt to convey them on to Warwick was barred

by Lord Northampton. The two lords at last agreed that they

should be carried back to Banbury, and that neither party should

remove them without giving the other three days' notice. On

the 6th and 7th of August great alarm began to prevail in the

town, that the enemy was meditating an assault, and a seizure of

the said ordnance. On Sunday night, the 7 th, the enemy was

discovered by a scout, coming down Hardwick lane in great force.

But "the night growing extreme dark, they forbare all that

night." Then next morning a parley was held, when the

Cavaliers by turns cajoled and threatened the fearful citizens.

At last : —

The town being in a sad case, not knowing how they would deal
with them, exposed themselves and town on Munday morning [the
8th], and in a while after they came in with about 5 or 600 horses,

1 An old Cavilier Song on the Taldwg of Banbury by Colonel Lumford. — P.

40 THE TRIBE OF BANBURTE.

but 300 good ones, and the rest sorry jades, anything [they] could
get from the poor countrey men, some at work ; and as beggarly
riders set on them, though for the present they flourished with money,
yet their cloths bewrayed them to be neither gentlemen nor Cavaliers.
And having fil'd the town with horses the chief of them came to
the Red Lion Inne, and desired to speak with Colonell Femes and
Captaine Vivers, who were in the Castle, to whom reply was made,
they should, if they would send two as considerable men in lieu,
which they did ; then they produced the Commission of Array, and
required them to deliver the Ordnance, otherwise they would take
them by force, and fire the town. And having obtained that they
came for, the ordnance and ammunition thereunto belonging, they
clear'd the town againe, and were all departed before night, who
carried them to the E. of Nortkamptons house [Compton Wyngate],
and it was thought they intended to goe to Warwicke castle the next
day, but the Lord Brooke had noe notice from the Earle of three
dayes warning, as was agreed between them ; There was also Colonell
Lunsford, and divers Lords too long to name ; There was the Lord
Wilmot, who kept backe the town of Atherbury from coming in to
aide Banbury, and threatned he would hang up the men and send the
souldiers to their wives and children ; There was also the Lord
Dunsmore. — "Proceedings at Banbvry since the Ordnance went down
for the Lord Brooke to fortifie Warwick Castle," 4to, 1642. Anions'
the King's Pamphlets in the Brit. Mus. apud Beesleifs " History
of Banbury " p. 302.

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

most Lamentablye
the Cavi- ^he men °f Babylon did spoyle

B e anbury k 4 ihe tribe of Banburye.

A brother post from cou entry

Veharl news ->• • -it -i , , i

ofLunsford's r yding m a blew rockett, 1

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

1 A.-S. roc, clothing, an outer garment, Fulle wel [y-] clothed was Fraunchise,

a coat, jacket, vest : Bosworth, Germ. For ther is no cloth sittith bet

rock, a coat. Chaucer describes dame On damyselle, than doth rocket.

Fraunchise in a rocket, see Fairholt's A womman wel more fetys is
Glossary

THE TRIBE OF BANBURYE.

Then wee called up our men of warr,
younge Viuers, Cooke & Denys, 1

whome our Lord Sea 2 placed vnder
his Sonne Master ffyenys. 3

and called
out our men
of war,

When hee came neere, he sent vs word

that hee was coming downe,
& wold, vnles wee lett him in,
16 Granado 4 all our towne.

butLunsford
said he'd

grenado our
town,

Then was our Colhr oncle — fines, 5 — & me,

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

wee had 8 gunnes called ordinance, 6
& foure score Musquetiers, 7

yett all this wold not serue to stop
those Philistime cauileeres.

and our guns
and men

[page 197] couldn't stop
him.

Good people, the did send in men

from Dorchester & Wickam ;
but wher this Gyant did them see,
28 good hord, how he did kick han 8 !

In rokct than in cote, ywis.

The whyte roket rydled faire, &c.

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

" Rocket, a surplys : " Palsgrave.

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

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

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

1 There is a dot over tho stroke follow-

ing the e in the MS.— F.

2 Say.— P.

3 Fiennes. — P.

4 Fr. Grenade. A Pomegranet ; also,
a ball of wild-fire, made like a Pome-
granet: Cotgrave. An iron case filled
with powder and bits of iron, like the
seeds in a pomegranate: Wedgwood.
— F.

5 Fiennes. — P.

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

7 Musquetiers. — P. The last e is niado
over a y in the MS. — F.

8 kick 'cm. — P.

THE TRIBE OF BANBURYE.

He swore
and threat-
ened us so

" You round heads, rebells, rougs, 1 " quoth, hee,

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

much longer then jour heere 2 !

that we
opened our
gates,

Then wee sett ope our gates 3 full wyde ;

they swarmed in like bees,
& they were all arraydd in buffe
36 thicker then our towne cheese. 4

and his
blood-
thirsty men

Now god deliuer vs, we pray,

from such blood-thirstye men,
forom 5 Leuyathan Lunsford
40 who eateth our children !

hung us and
plundered

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

now since Lunsford hath plundred you,
you may goe hang yo^r selues.

ffins.

1 rogiies. — if.

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

3 gater in the MS.— F.

4 Banbury Cheese. — P.

this.— P.

[ u Doe you meane to overtlirowe me," and "A Maid 8f a Young e Man,"
printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 49-52, follow here in
the MS.]

$p : me : %y me :

The Editors have not found any printed copy of this song.
Mr. Chappell informs them that there is a tune in the Dancing
Master of 1657 entitled "Ay me, or the Symphony," but it
requires words of a different metre to that of this song.

" A fling at the Scots, probably writ in James I. time " is
Percy's MS. note ; or, as Mr. Halliwell says of Joky ivill prove
a gentillman, 1 a " satire . . doubtlessly levelled against the
numerous train of Scotch adventurers who wisely emigrated to
England in the time of James I., in the full expectation of
being distinguished by the particular favour and patronage of
their native sovereign." Poor Sisly, the chief speaker in the
piece, laments the dropping off of her suitors. She once had
twelve, and now she has but one. The first was handsome ; the
ten following were all well-to-do in the world in one way or
another ; the one that yet remains has no merit of either sort.
The others were Welsh, Dutch, French, or Spanish ; this one is
a sorry Scotchman. A doleful state of things ; but the best must
be made of it. At any rate, as this last lingering wooer is a
beggar, he can never be declared bankrupt. But indeed begging-
is the way to wealth now-a-days — begging for appointments, &c.
In Joky ivill prove such begging is introduced as the cause of
the marvellous change of the hero's cowhide shoes into Spanish-
leather ones decked with roses, of his twelvepenny stockings
into " silken blewe," of his list garters into silk tasselled with
gold and silver, &c.

1 Reprinted from The Archaologist in Satirical Songs (Percy Society), p. 127.

AY ME: AY ME.

Thy hose and thy dublett, which were full plaine,
Whereof great store of lice [did] containe,
Is turned nowe. Well fare thy braine
That can by bcgginge this maintayne!

By my fay, and by Saint Ann,

Joky will prove a gentilman !

Moved by this disinterested consideration — that begging is the
winning game — Sisly resolves to give the constant Scot the right
to beg for her as well as himself.

Oh clear I
I had twelve
suitors,

and all are

gone but

one,

the worst of

all,

a regular

weed.

The rest
were good,

this one's
naught,

" AY : me, ay me, pore sisley, & vndone ' !

I had 12 sutors, now I have but one !

they all were wealthy ; had I beene but wise ;

now haue all left me since I haue beene soe nice, 2

but only one, and him all Maidens scorne,

for hees the worst I thinke that ere was borne."

" peace good sisley ! peace & say noe more !

bad mends in time ; good salue heales many a sore."

" ffaith such a one as I cold none but loue, 3
for 4 few or none of them doe constant proue ;
a man in shape, proportion, looke, and showe,
much like a Mushroome in one night doth grow ;
proud as a lay t hats of a comely hew,
cladd like a Musele in a capp of blew. 5 "
" peace, good sisley ! peace, & say noe more !
be Merry, wench, & lett the welkin rore ! "

" The first I had was framed in bewtyes mold,

the second : 3 d . and 4* had store of gold,

the 5. 6. 7. 8"? had trades eche one,

the best had goods & lands to hue vpon ;

Now may I weepe, sigh, sobb, & ring my hands,

since this hath neither witt, trade, v goods, nor Land[s.] "

1 I'm vndone. — P.

2 Particular ; not Fr. niais, a simple,
witlesse, vnexperienced gull. Nice, dull,
simple : Cotgrave. — F.

3 As none but I could love. — P.

4 But.— P.

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

AY ME : AY ME.

" peace, good sisley ; peace & take that one
that stayes behind when all the rest are gone !

" He [is,] as ' turkes doe say, noe renegatoe, 2
noe Portugall, Gallowne, or reform ato 3 ;
but in playne termes some say he is a scott,

28 that by his witts some old cast suite hath gott,
& now is as 4 briske 5 as my 6 Bristow Taylor,
& swaggers like a pander or a saylor. 7 "
" kisse him, sisley, kisse him, he may prone the best,

32 & vse him kindly, but witt bee all the rest."

a Scot,

in a cast-off

suite.

" One was a welchman, her wold 8 scorne to crye ;
& 3 were Dutchmen that sill 9 drunke wold bee ;
& 6 were frenchemen that were pockye proude ;

36 & one a spanyard that cold bragg alowd.
Now all are gone, & way 10 not me a figge,
but one poore Scott who can doe nought but begg."
" take him, sisley ! take him, for itt is noe doubt,

40 his trades that beggs, heele neuer proofe 1 1 banquerout.' '

My other
suitors were
Welch,
Dutch, &c.

This one is a
poor begging
Scot.

" Nay, sure, He haue him, for all people say
that men by begging grow rich now a day,
& that oftentimes is gotten with a word

44 att great mens hands that neuer was woone by sword,
then welcome Scotchman, wee will weded bee,
& one day thou shalt begg for thee and mee."
" well sayd, sisley ! well said ! on another day,

48 by begging thou maist weare a garland gay ! "

But I'll take
him ;

begging's a
good trade
now ;

and he'll beg
for us both.

1 He is, as, &e. — P.

2 renegado. — P.

3 reformado. — P. Sp. reformddo, re-
formed. Minsheu. Reformado, orReformed
Officer, an Officer whose Company or
Troop is disbanded, and yet be continu'd
in whole or half Pay ; still being in the
way of Preferment, and keeping his
Eight of Seniority : Also a Gentleman
who serves as a Volunteer in a Man of
War, in Order to learn Experience, and

succeed the Principal Officers. Phillips.
— F.

4 It may be al in the MS.— F.

5 And now's as brisk. — P.

6 any. — P.

7 ? MS. Jaylor.— F.

8 hur wold, &c. — P.

9 still.— P.

10 weigh. — P.

11 The Man that begs will ne'er prove.

flame : inoltre : $ rfiancje:

[page 190]

This is the song of one who entertains a supreme horror of
living and dying an old maid. She has been told by old wives,
no doubt well informed on the subject, that those who do so are
employed subsequently in " leading apes in hell ; " ' after which
singular occupation she feels no great hankering. "To the
church," then, is the word. Ding-dong away, Marriage bells.

I want to
change my
maiden life,

r AINE wold I change my maiden liffe
to tast of loues true loyes."
" What ? liffe ! woldest 2 thou chuse to bee a wiffe ?

maids wishes are but toyes."
" how can there bee a greater hell then Hue a maid
soe long, 3
a mayd soe long ?
to the church ring out the Marriage bells,
ding dong, ding dong, ding dong !"

for I'm

nearly six-
teen,

" Beffore thai 15 yeeres were spent,

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

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

1 Mr. Dyce says : " The only instances
of the expression leading apes in (or into)
hell, which at present occur to me, are
these : —

" ' — and he that is less than a man,
I am not for him : therefore I will even
take sixpence in earnest of the bear-
ward, and lead his apes into hell.' —
Shakespeare's Much ado about Nothing,
act ii. sc. 1.

" ' — but keeping my maidenhead till
it was stale, I am condemned to lead apes
in hell! — Shirley's Love-Tricks, act iii.

sc. 6 ; Works, vol. i. p. 53, ed. G-ifford
and Dyce.

" This phrase, which is still in common
use, never has been (and never will be)
satisfactorily explained. Steevens sug-
gests, ' That women who refused to bear
children, should, after death, be con-
demned to the care of apes in leading-
strings, might have been considered as
an act of posthumous retribution.' " — F.

2 why would'st. — P.

3 ? MS.— F. so long.— P.

FAINE WOLDE I CHANGE. 47

"Besides, I heard an old wiffe tell

that all true maids must dye." and true

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

a dolefull destiny e."

in hell.

" & wee will lead noe apes in hell ; ! ^on'tdo

r ' that,

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

wee haue liued true mayds to 2 longe."

ffins.

1 "Weele change" is in the 18th line in the MS.— F. 2 too.— P.

This song occurs, as Mr. Chappell remarks, in the Golden
Garland of Princely Delight, 3rd edition, 1620. Mr. Chappell
adds a fourth stanza from later copies, " such as Wits Interpreter,
third edition, 8vo. 1671 :"

If I have wronged you, tell me wherein,

And I will soon amend it ;
In recompense of such a sin,

Here is my heart, I'll send it.
If that will not your mercy move,

Then for my life I care not ;
Then, then, torment me still,

And take my life and spare not.

He gives the tune to which the song was sung, composed by
Thomas Ford (one of the musicians in the suite of Prince Henry,
the eldest son of James I.), who published it in his Musick of
Sundrie Kindes, in 1607.

at erst sight, " HEN" ffirst I saw her face, I resolued '

to honor & renowne thee ;
but if I be disdayned, I wishe
4 that I had neuer knowne thee.
me love ; ade I asked leaue ; you bade me lone ;

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

8 If I admire or praise you too much,

tltat fortune [you] might 2 forgiue mee ;
or that my hand hath straid but to touch, 3
thenn might you iustly leaue mee,

1 thee I resolv'd.— P. 2 that fault you might.— P. 3 MS. teach.— F. to touch.— P.

WHKN K I K.ST I SAWE.

12 but I that liked, & you that loued,
is now a time to wrangle ?
O no : no : no, my hart is ffixt, & will not new w m y
entangle.

The sun, whose beames most glorious are,
16 rejecteth x noe beholder ;

yottr faire face, past all compare,

makes my faint hart the bolder,
when bewtye likes, & witt delights,
20 & showes of Loue doe bind mee ;

there, there ! there ! whersoeuer I goe,
He leaue my hart behind mee !

1 MS. & reacheth.— F.

ffins.

ou
now quarrel
with me ?

Your beauty

has stolen
my heart.

[" A Creature for Feature,'''' and "Lye alone," printed in
Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 53-56, follow here in the MS.~\

VOL. II.

$?oto fapre stint lie* 1

This well-known song by George Wither (1590-1667) appeared
in 1619, appended to his Fidelia, and again in Juvenilia, in 1633,
in " Fair Virtue the Mistress of Philarete." It was reprinted
again and again, sometimes with another stanza. The version
here given is slightly corrupt. " A copy of this song," says Mr.
Chappell, "is in the Pepys collection, i. 230, entitled A new song
of a young man's opinion of the difference between good and
bad women. To a pleasant new tune. It is also in the second
part of the Golden Garland of Princely Delights, third edition
1620, entitled The Shepherd's Resolution. To the tune of The
Young Man's Opinion."

care for me ?

Not I

shall i kill DHALL : I, wasting in dispayre,

dye because a woman s fayre ?
or make pale my cheekes with care 2
lo^dKt 4 because anotkers rose-yee 3 are ?

Be skee fairer then the day

or the flowry Meads in may,
if skee tkinke not well of mee,
8 Wkat care I kow fayre skee bee ?

Skall my foolisk kart be pind

because I see a woman kind,
or a well disposed nature
12 with 4 a comlye feature ?

1 An elegant old Song by Withers. omission of St, 2<J — P.
This song is in /he Tea Table Miscellany 2 shall my Cheeks look pale with care

of Allan Ramsay, 1753, j>flr/c 304. But (printed Copy). — P.

the Printed Copy wants the 2'. 1 stanza: — • s rosie are. P.

it containing only three. It is also in * matched or joined.— P.

Dryden's Misc. V. 6. p. 335, with the

HOW FAYRE SHEE BE.

Be shee Meeker, kinder, then

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

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

Shall a womans vertnes 1 moue

me to perish for her lone,
or her worthy merritts knowne
20 make me quite forgett mine owne ?
were shee with that goodness blest,

as may meritt name of best,
if shee be not soe to me,
24 what care I how good shee bee ?

Shall I
perish for
her love ?

Not I.

2 Be shee good or kind or fayre,
I will neuer more disp[air ;]
if shee loue me, this beleeue,
28 I will dye ere shee shall g[reiue ;]
if shee slight me when I woe,
I will scorne & lett her goe.
or if shee be not 3 for mee,
32 what care I 4 for whom shee bee ?

If she slight

me,

let her go.

What care I?

1 goodness (printed Copy). — P.

2 The following four lines are written
in two in the MS.— F.

3 Percy inserts J?*!. — F.

4 A wliom struck out follows / in the
MS.— F.

[" Downe sate the Shepard" and " Men that more," printed in
Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 57-60, follow here in the 3//S'.]

e 2

Come : €onu : Come t 1 cw^]

This is, says Percy in his marginal note in the Folio, " A curious
old drinking song, supposed to be sung by an old gouty Baccha-
nal." Not content with fellow mortal topers, the old roisterer
calls on all the Gods to join him in his carouse. Not his the
Lotus-eater's conception of the Deities. He does not think
that " careless of mankind they lie beside their nectar . . where
they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands," smile at the
music centred in the doleful song of lamentation, the ancient
tale of wrong, from the " ill-used race of men that cleave the soil."
He sees them madding their brains for "a little care of the
world's affair," " utterly consumed with sharp distress " at the
world's misery ; and he calls on them to be such fools no longer —
to " let mortals do as well as they may " — while they, the (rods,
take up their wine and drink with him. Mars, Momus, Mercury,
Apollo, Vulcan, the great Jove himself, dread Juno, and Venus,
Goddess of Love— none are excused — all must join ; the grape
is sweet, and wine for them as well as men : let all quaff, and
sing fa la la ! — F.

Let's be joiiy! vOME: Come, come ! shall wee Masque or mum?

by ray holly day, 2 what a coyle is heere !
some must 3 sway, & some ohay I,
4 or else, I pray, who stands in feare ?

Though though 4 my toe, thai I limpe on soe, 5

we have

the gout, doe cause my woe & wellaway,

wine'n make yett .this sweet spring & another thing

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

1 A curious old drinking song, sup- 3 mist in the MS. — F.
posed to be sung by an old gouty Bac- '' what tho'. — P.
chanal.— P. s sc. with the Gout. — P.

2 Dame.— P.

COME : COME : COME.

ffellow gods, will you fall att odds ?

what a fury madds jour morttall l braines !
for a litle care of the worlds affare,
12 will you frett, will you square, 2 will you vexe, will
you vai[r ?] 3
No, gods ! no ! let fury go, 4

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

Don't bother

about

business.

16 God of Moes, 5 with thy toting Nose,

with thy mouth that growes to thy Lolling eare,
stretch thy mouth from North to south,
& quench thy drought 6 in vinigar !
20 though thy toung be too Large & too Longe
to sing this song of fa la la la la,
Ioyne Momus grace to vulcans pace,

& with, a filthy face crye " waw waw waw ! "

Momus,

drink
vinegar !

Sing with us
somehow !

24 Brother Mine, thou 7 art god of wine !

will you tast of the wine 8 to the companye ?
'King of quafie, carrouse & doffe
jour Liquor of, and follow mee !
28 9 Sweete soyle of Esus He,

wherin this coyse 10 was euery day,
for this sweet &c.

Bacchus,

join me in a
bowl !

Mercurye, thou Olimpian spye !
32 wilt thou wash thine eye in this fontaine cleere ?
when * l you goe to the world below,

you shall light of noe such Liquor there,

Mercury,
drink !

1 immortal, qu. — P.

2 i. e. quarrel. — P.

3 will you vex your vaines. — P. Vair
for veer, turn. It should rhyme with
square. — Chappell.

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

5 Mows, i.e. Mockery. Sc. Momus. — P.

6 drowth. — P.

7 that.— P.

8 vine. — P.

9 To the.— P.

10 ? MS. coyle.— F. ? coyse, body —
Halliwell.

11 whene'er. — P.

COME : COME : COME.

Wine'll wing
your heart.

Mars,

stop strife,
and drink.

though l you were a winged stare
36 & flyeth 2 farr as shineth day ;

yett heeres a thing jouv hart will wing,
& make you sing &c.

You that are the god of warr,
40 a cruell starr peraerse & froward,

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

3 then fox 4 me, & lie fox thee ;
44 then lets agree, & end this fray,

since this sweet &c.

Venus,

you drink
tool

Venus queene, for bewtye seene,

in youth soe greene, & loued soe young,
48 thou that art mine owne sweet hart,

shalt haue a part in Cuppe [&] songe 5 ;
though my foot be wrong, my swords full long
& hart full strong; cast care away,
52 Since this sweet &c.

Apollo,

here's wine
for you 1
It will refine
your music.

Great Appollo, crowned with yellow, 6
Cynthius, fellow 7 -muses deere !

heere is wine, itt must be thine,
56 itt will refine thy Musicke cleere ;

to the wire of this sweet lire
you must aspire another day,

for this sweet &c.

Juno, 60 Iuno clere, & mother dere,

you come in the rere of a bowsing feast ;

1 Altho', or even tho', or perhaps

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

2 and flew as, as, That flyeth. — P.

3 Do thou fox me. — P.

4 a toping Word. — P. Fox, to make
tipsy. A cant term. See Hobson's Jests,

1607, repr. p. 33. Halliwell. — F.

5 Cup & song. — P.

6 Cloath'd in yellow.— P.

7 Cease to follow, or Quit thy fellow,
or With thy fellow. — P. Apollo was
surnamed Cynthius, and Diana Cynthia,
as they were born on Mount Cynthus,
which was sacred to them. Lempriere. — F.

COME : COME : COME. 55

thus I meet, yowr grace to greet ;

the grape is sweet & the last is best.
64 now let fall your angry brawlee l leave your

anger,

from im>Hortall & wayghtye sway ;
tis a gracious thing to please your JLing,

. drink and

& hear e you sing &c. sing!

68 Awfull sire, & king of fire ! Jove >

let wine aspire to thy mighty throne, ancHoin our

& in this quire of voices clere song !

Come thou, & beare an imorttall drame 2 ; [page 203]
72 for fury ends, & grace d[e] sends

With Stygian feinds to dwell for aye.
lett Nectur spring & thunder ring
when Ioue 3 doth sing &c. &c.

76 Vulcan, Momus, hermes, Bacchus, Vuicanand

Mars & Venus, 2 and tooe,
Phebus brightest, Iuno rightest,
& the mightyest of the crew,
80 Ioue, and all the heauens great 4 hall,

keepe festiuall & holy-day ! rejoice

since this sweete spring with her blacke thing wine.

will make you sing fa la la la.

ffins.

1 brawle. — P. 3 Jove. — P. MS. Iohue, with perhaps

2 drone, i. e. bass. — P. the h marked out. — F.

4 full here, struck out. — P.

€!)£ <Bvtm Xtnfgftt* 1

[In 2 Parts.— P.]

This is a late, popular version of the old romance of " Sir
Gawain and the Green Knight," preserved amongst the Cot-
tonian MSS. (Nero A. X. fol. 91) edited by Sir Frederick
Madden for the Bannatyne Club in 1839 and by Richard
Morris Esq. for the Early English Text Society in 1864. 2 The
old romance, written, according to Mr. Morris, about 1320 A.D.,
by the author of the Early English Alliterative Poems also
printed by the E. E. Text Society, is lengthy, is written in
alliterative metre, and is as difficult as the old alliterative poems
usually are. To dissipate this besetting obscurity, to relieve this
apparent tediousness, the present translation and abridgement
was made. The form is changed ; the language is modernised.
In a word, the old romance was adapted to the taste and under-
standing of the translator's time. Moreover, it was made to
explain a custom of that time — a custom followed by an Order
that was instituted, according to Selden and Camden, some three-
quarters of a century (a.d. 1399) after the time when, according
to Mr. Morris, the poem first appeared. It explains why

Knights of the bathe weare the lace

Untill they have wonen their shoen,
Or else a ladye of hye estate
From about his neeke shall it take

For the doughtye deeds hee hath done.

On this point Somerset Herald has kindly furnished us with
the following note :

1 A curious adventure of Sir Ga- turn p. 29-31 [of MS. ; pp. 70-3 of text].

waine, explaining a custome used by — P.

the Knights of the Bath. — P. ' l In his edition of Syr Gawayne, Sir

N.B. See a Fnigmrat p. 29 [of MS.; F. Madden printed the present poem as

vol. i. p. 70, 1. 213 of text] wherein is No. III. in his Appendix, p. 224-242.
mention of a Green ~ii.iiight & decapita-

THE GISKNK KNIGHT. ~)7

College of Arms, June 8.

It appears to have been the custom of Knights of the Bath, from at
least as early as the reign of Henry IV., to wear a lace or shoulder
knot of white silk on the left shoulder of their mantles or gowns,
(" theis xxxii nw kni3tes preceding immediately before the king hi
theire gownis, 1 and hoodis, and tookins of whi^te silke upon theire
sliouldeirs as is accustumid att the Bath : " MS. temp. Edw. IV.,
fragment published by Hearne at the end of Sprott's Chronicle,
p. 88). This lace was to be worn till it should be taken off by the
hand of the prince or of some noble lady, upon the knight's having
performed " some brave and considerable action," vide Anstis's
History of the Order. What this custom originated in does not
appear, and the writer of the poem has only exercised the allowed pri-
vilege of his craft, in attributing the derivation to the adventure of Sir
Gawaine and " the Lady gay " in this legend of "The Green Knight."

In the Statutes of the Order, 11th of George I. 1725, it is com-
manded that they shall wear on the left shoulder of their mantle "the
lace of white silk antiently worn by the said knights," but there is
no mention of its being taken off at any time for any reason.

J. R. Planche\

The recast belongs then to an age which was beginning to
study itself, and to enquire into the origin of practices which it
found itself observing. It is an infant antiquarian effort. But the
poem has lost much of its vigour in the translation. It is in its
present shape but a shadow of itself. Moreover, the following copy
appears much mutilated. Several half-stanzas have dropped out
altogether, probably through the sheer carelessness of the scribe.

The two leading persons of the romance are the well-known
Sir Gawain, of King Arthur's court, and Sir Bredbeddle of the
West country — the same knight who appears in King Arthur
and the King of Cornwall, vol. i. p. 67. The main interest
rests upon Sir Gawain. His " points three " — his boldness, his
courtesy, his hardiness — are all proved. He is eager for adven-
tures; he unshrinkingly pursues them to the end; he bears
extreme hardships patiently ; his courtesy is shown in his nobly

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

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

resisting the overtures made him by his host's wife, whom Agostes
has brought to his bedside.

The ladye kissed him times three,
Saith, " Without I have the love of thee,

My life standeth in dere."
Sir Gawaine blushed on the Lady bright,
Saith, " Your husband is a gentle Knight,

By Him that bought mee deare !
To me itt were great shame,
If I shold doe him any grame,

That hath beene kind to mee."

All these provings are given much more fully in the original
romance. But enough is given here to uphold the fame of the
chivalrous knight. See the Turk and Oowin.

When
Arthur
lived, he
ruled all
Britain,

JLlST ! wen l Arthur he was ~K.ing,
he had all att his leadinge

the broad He of Brittaine ;
England & Scottland one was,
& wales stood in the same case,

the truth itt is not to layne. 2

and lived, for
a time, in
peace.

To stop his
knights con-
tending for
precedency,

he drive allyance 3 out of this He,
soe Arthur liued in peace a while,

as men 4 of Mickle maine,
knights strong of 5 their degree
[strove] which, of them hyest shold bee ;

therof Arthur was not faine ;

he made the

Round

Table,

that all

bee made the round table for their behoue,
that none of them shold sitt aboue,
but all shold sitt as one, 6

1 when. — P.

2 without layne, i.e. without lying. —
or withowt altering the line (only dele it
is) it is "Not to conceal the truth." — P.
Old Norse leyna, to hide. — F.

3 drave aliens. — P.

4 man. — P.

5 Kn 1 . 9 strove of (about) &c. — P.

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

At Cayrlyone, wyt^oute fable,
he let make be Rouwde table :

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

1G the King hiniselfe in state royall,
Dame Gueneuer our queene withall,
seemlye of body and bone.

might be
equal.

itt fell againe the christmase,
20 many came to that Lords place,
to that worthye one
with helme on l head, & brand bright,
all that tooke order of knight;
24 none wold linger att home.

One Christ-
mas many
knights
came to
Arthur's
court.

there was noe castle nor manowr free
that might harbour that companye,

their puissance was soe great,
their tents vp the pight 2
for to lodge there all that night,

therto were sett to meate.

No house
could hold
all of them,

so they
pitched their
tents,

Messengers there came [&] went 3
32 with much victualls verament
both by way & streete ;

wine & wild fowle thither was brought,

within they spared nought
36 for gold, & they might itt gett.

and food
was served
to them.

Now of King Arthur noe more I mell 4 ;
but of a venterous knight I will you tell 5

that dwelled in the west country e 6 ;
Sir Bredbeddle, for sooth he hett 7 ;
he was a man of Mickele might,

& Jjord of great bewtye.

And why pat he maked hyt pus,
J?is was pe resoura y-wyss,
bat no man schulde sytt aboue ober,
ne hauo indignaciouw of hys hvo\>cr ;
And alle hadde .oo. seruyse,
For no pryde scholde aryse
For any degree of syttynge
Ober for any seruynge. — F.

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

1 MS. &.— F.

2 pitched, or put. — P.

3 and went. — P.

4 mell, meddle, fr. meler. Urry. — P.

5 I tell.— P.

6 See line 515. — F.

7 hight, was called. — P. The earlier
romance makes the knight's name "Bern-

<>0

THE GI1ENE KNIGHT.

He loved his
wife dearlj',

but she
loved Sir
Gawaine.

he had a lady to his l wiffe,
44 he loued her deerlye as his liffe,

shee was both blyth and blee 2 ;
because Sir Gawaine was stiffe in stowre,
shee loued him priuilye paramour, 3
48 & 4 shee neuer him see.

Her mother
Agostes
dealt in
witchcraft,

itt was Agostes that was her mother ;
itt was witchcraft & noe other
that shee dealt with all :

could trans-
form men,

and told
Bredbeddle
to go, trans-
formed,

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

wounded 5 both Lim & lightt, 6
shee taught her sonne the "knight alsoe
in transposed likenesse he shold goe 7

both by fell and frythe ;

to Arthur's
court to see
adventures.

This was in
order to get

Gawaine

shee said, " thou shalt to Arthurs hall ;

for there great aduentures shall befall
60 That euer saw ~King or "Knight"

all was for her daughters sake,

that which she 8 soe sadlye spake
to her sonne-in-law the Knight,
64 because Sir Gawaine was bold and harclye,

[page 204]

lak de Hautdesert" (p. 78, 1. 2445); it
does not make his wife fall in love with
Gawain, hut Bernlak sends her to tempt
him (p. 75, 1. 2362). Gawain comes out
of the temptation as one of the most
faultless men that ever walked on foot,
and as much above other knights as a
pearl is above white pese (1. 2364). The
enchantress is Morgne la Faye, Arthur's
half-sister and Gawaine's aunt ; and she
sends Bernlak to Arthur's court in the
hope that his talking with his head in
hand would bereave all Arthur's knights
of their wits, and grieve Guinevere, and
make her die (p. 78, 1. 2460). The de-
scription of Morgne la Faye (p. 30-1) is

very good, with her rough yellow wrinkled
cheeks, her covered neck, her black chin
muffled up with white vails, her fore-
head enfolded in silk, showing only her
black brows, eyes, nose, and lips " sowe
to se and sellyly blered." — F.

1 MS. wis.— F.

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

3 I w? read par amour. — P.

4 and yet. — P.

5 and wound. — P.

6 ly the, a joint, a limb, a nerve, Sax.
li*, artus. Urry. — P.

7 to go.— P.

8 MS. that theye which.— F.

THE GKENE KNIGHT.

& therto full of curtesye, 1
to bring him into her sight.

brought to
her daugh-
ter.

the knight said " soe mote I thee,
68 to Arthurs court will I mee hye
for to praise thee right,

& to proue Gawaines points 3 ;

& that be true that men tell me,
72 by Mary Most of Might."

Bredbeddle
agrees to go,

and prove
whether
Gawaine is
so good.

earlye, soone as itt was day,
the K^night dressed him full gay,

vmstrode 2 a full good steede ;
helme and hawberke both he hent,
a long fauchion verament

to fend them in his neede.

Bredbeddle
starts next
day

on horse-
back.

that 3 was a lolly sight to seene,
80 when horsse and armour was all greene,
& weapon that hee bare,
when that burne was harnisht still,
his countenance he became right well,
84 I dare itt safely e sweare.

lie was a
goodly sight,
in his green
armour, and
on his green
horse.

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

in the fforrest of delamore. 4
for sooth he 5 rode, the sooth to say,
to Carleile 6 he came on Christmas day,

into that fayre countrye. 7

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

Bredbeddle
arrives on
Christmas
day.

1 : ' bat fyne fader of nurture " the old
romance calls him, p. 29, 1. 919. — F.

2 and strode, i. e. bestrode. — P. um =
round. See the elaborate description of
the knight, his armour and horse, in the
old romance, p. 5-6, 1. 151-202.— F.

Yt, i. e. it.— P.

Delamere. — P. In Cheshire. — II.

for soe hee. — P.

Camylot, in the old romance. — F.

countrye, faire. — P.

THE GKENE KNIGHT.

The porter

asks

him where

he's going to.

"To see
King Arthur
and his
lords."

The porter

tells Arthur

when he into that place came, 1

92 the portei* thought him a Marnelons groome
he saith, " Sir, wither wold yee ? "
hee said, " I am a venterous K.night,
& of yo«r King wold haue sight,

96 & other Lonfe that heere bee."

noe word to him the porter spake,
hut left him standing att the gate,

& went forth, as I weene,
1 00 & kneeled downe before the K.ing ;
saith, "in lifes dayes old or younge,

such a sight I haue not seene !

of the Green

Knight's

arrival,

and the
king

orders him
to be let in.

" for yonder att yo«r gates right ; "
104 he saith, " hee is 2 a venterous ~K.night ;
all his vesture is greene."
then spake the Kmg proudest in all, 3
saith, " bring him into the hall ;
108 let vs see what hee doth meane."

Bredbeddle
conies,

wishes
Arthur God
speed,

112

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

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

& Maintaine thine honor 4 !

and says he
has come

to challenge
his lords to
a trial of
manhood.

" why 5 thou wold me nothing but right ;

116 I am come hither a venterous [Knight, 6 ]
& kayred 7 thoi'row countrye farr, 8
to proue poynts in thy pallace
that longeth to manhood in euerye case

120 among thy Lorcfs cleere."

1 come or was come. — P.
- there is. — P.

3 first or foremost of all. — P.

4 honnere. — P.

8 for why, because. — F.

6 Knight.— P.

7 have gone ; A.-S. cerran, cirran, to
turn, pass over or by. — P.

8 farre, or perhaps faire. — P.

THE GKENE KNIGHT.

consents to
let him try

on foot,

or horse-
back.

the King, lie sayd l full still 2 Arthur

till he had said all his will ;

certein thus can 3 he say :
124 " as I am true knight and King,
thou shalt haue thy askinge !

I will not say thy nay, 4

" whether thou wilt 5 on foote fighting,
128 or on steed backe G iusting
for loue of Ladyes gay.

If & thine armor be not fine,

I will giue thee part of mine."
132 " god amercy, Lord ! " can he say,

" here I make a challenging

among the Lords both old and younge

that worthy beene in weede,
136 w7m'c1i of them will take in hand 7 —
hee that is both stiffe and stronge

and full good att need —

" I shall lay my head downe, [page 205]

140 strike itt of if he can 8

with a stroke to garr 9 itt bleed,

for this day 12 monthe another at his :

let me see who will answer this,
144 a knight 10 that is doughtye of deed;

" for this day 12 month, the sooth to say,
let him come to me & seicth his praye ;
rudlye, 11 or euer hee blin, 12

Bredbeddle
challenges
Arthur's
lords :

he'll let any
one

cut his head
off,

for a return
cut at his
executioner's
head a year
hence

1 satt,— P.

2 quietly.— P.

3 certes then 'gan. — P.

4 say thee nay. — P. \>y is the abla-
tive of the A.-Sax. demonstrative pro-
noun, se, seo, \(Bt. — F.

5 wilt be. — P. wilt = wishest, pre-
ferest. — H.

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

7 hond.— P.

8 con. — P.

a gar, cause. — P.
>° perhaps To a k*. —P.

11 redlye, i.e. readily. Vid. G.D.— P.

12 blin, linger, delay. — P.

THE GKENE KMGHT.

at the

Greene

Chappell.

148 whither to come, I shall liira tell,

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

Kay

the Kmg att ease sate full still,

152 & all his lords said but litle *
till he had said all his will,
vpp stood Sir Kay that crabbed kmght,
spake mightye words that were of height,

156 that were both Loud and shrill ;

accepts the
challenge.

The other
knights tell
Kay to be
quiet ;
he's always
getting into
a mess.

160

" I shall strike his necke in tooe,
the head away the body froe."

the bade him all be still,
saith, 2 " Kay, of thy dints make noe rouse, 3
thou wottest full litle what 4 thou does s ;

noe good, but Mickle ill."

Sir Gawaine

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

Eche man wold this deed haue done.

164 vp start S^r Gawaine soone,
vpon his knees can kneele,
he said, " that were great villanye
without you put this deede to me,

168 my leege, as I haue sayd ;

Arthur
consents,

but not till
after dinner.

172

" remember, I am jour sisters sonne."
the Kmg said, " I grant thy boone ;

but mirth is best att meele ;
cheere thy guest, and giue him wine,
& after dinner, to itt fine,

& sett the buffett well ! "

1 littel— P.

2 i. c. they say. — P.

* praise, extolling, boast. — Jun. per-

haps roust, noise. G. Doug. — P.
* that.— P.
5 doest. — P.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

now the greene Knight is set att meate,

176 seemly e 1 serued in his seate,
beside the round table,
to talke of his welfare, nothing he needs,
like a Knight himselfe he feeds,

180 with long time reasnable. 2

Bredbeddle
dines.

184

when the dinner, it was done,

the Kmg said to Sir Gawaine soone,

withouten any fable
he said, " on 3 you will doe this deede,
I pray Iesus be jour speede !

this knight is nothing vnstable."

Arthur
wishes
Gawaine

God speed.

Bredbeddle
is a stiff one.

the greene Knight his head downe layd ;

188 Sir Gawaine, to the axe he braid 4
to strike w*'th eger will ;
he stroke the necke bone in twaine,
the blood burst out in eue/ye vaine,

192 the head from the body fell.

Gawaine

chops off

Bredbeddle's

head.

196

the greene Knight his head vp bent, 5
into his saddle wightilye 6 he sprent,

spake words both Lowd & shrill,
saith : " Gawaine ! thinke on thy couenant !
this day 12 monthes see thou ne want

to come to the greene chappell ! "

Bredbeddle
picks it up,
jumps into
his saddle,

reminds
Gawaine to
meet him
twelve
months
hence,

1 MS. seenlye, with a horizontal line
and two vertical strokes over the n,
denoting a contraction, and showing
that I ought to have read as m the
similar n in the heading of " Eger and
Grine," vol. i. p. 341. The title would
then have corresponded with the text ;
but never having noticed the contraction
before, I hesitated to alter the MS. — F.

- reasonable. — P.

3 an.— P.

4 See Herbert Coleridge's Glossary on
this word, Old Norse bregta. He abstracts
from Egilson. As a neuter verb it is
used " of any violent motion of body,
as to leap." — F.

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

6 actively. — P.

VOL. II.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

rides ofE,

All had great maruell, that the see

200 that he spake so merrilye

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

204 and Lords that were in land.

puts his
head on
again,

and promises
Gawaine
a better
buffet.

208

without the hall dore, the sooth to saine,
hee sett his head vpon againe, 1

saies, " Arthur, haue heere my hand !
when-soeuer the Knight cometh to mee,
a better buffett sickerlye

I dare him well warrand."

Arthur is
very sorry
for Gawaine,

so is Lance-
lot.

Gawaine
cheers them
np,

swears that

the greene Knight away went.

212 all this was done by enchantment
that the old witch had wrought,
sore sicke fell Arthur the King,
and for him made great mourning

216 that into such bale was brought.

the Queen, shee weeped for his sake ;
sorry was Sir Lancelott dulake,

& other were dreery in thought
220 because he was brought into great perill ;
his mighty e manhood will not availe,

that before hath freshly e fought.

So* Gawaine comfort King and Queen,
224 & all the doughtye there be-deene 2 ;
he bade the shold be still ;
said, " of my deede I was neuer feard, 3
nor yett I am nothing a-dread,
228 I swere by Saint Michaell ;

[page 206]

1 The old romance makes the head
open its eyelids and speak while it's on F.
the knight's hand, 1. 446.— P. 3 fraid.— P.

immediately. — P. or all together. —

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

" for when draweth toward my day,
I will dresse me in mine array
my promise to fulfill.
232 Sir," he saith, " as I haue blis,

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

the rorall Couett * verament
236 all roue-lit 2 Sa Gawaines intent,
they thought itt was the best,
they went forth into the feild,
knights that ware both speare and sheeld
240 the priced 3 forth full prest 4 ;

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

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

that and Sot Gawaine oue/--come were,

the wold bren all the west.

Now leaue wee the King in his pallace.

248 the greene Knight come home is
to his owne Castle ;
this folke frend 5 when he came home
what doughtye deeds he had done.

252 nothing he wold them tell ;

full well hee wist in certaine
that his wiffe loued Sa- Gawaine

that comelye was vnder kell. 6
256 listen, Lo/-c7s 7 ! & yee will sitt,
& yee shall heere the second ffitt,

what adventures Sa Gawaine befell.

he'll keep
his pledge,

and will

seek out
the Green
Chapel.

The court
approve,

and go forth

to joust,

revel,

and sport,

swearing to
revenge
Gawaine if
he's killed.

Bredbeddle
reaches his
home,

tells no one
what he has
done,

but knows
that bis wife
loves
Gawaine.

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

2 ? reached, took in. — F.
* pricked. — P.

4 ready. — P.

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

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

7 Lordings. — P.

i- -i

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

The year is
up, and
Gawaine
must go.

The king
and court
grieve.

260

2? parte.

264

[Part II]

The day is come that Gawaine must gone ;
Knights & Ladyes waxed wann

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

to that Iorney when he shold passe.

His steed
was dapple-
grey,

268

When he was in armour bright,

he was one of the goodlyest JLnights

that euer in brittaine was borne,
they brought Sir Gawaine a steed,
was dapple gray and good att need, 1

I tell wi'thouten scorne ;

his bridle
jewelled^

his stirrups
silk;

his bridle was with stones sett,
272 with, gold & pearle ouerfrett,
& stones of great vertue ;

he was of a furley 2 kind ;

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

he glittered
like gold.

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

by the way as he rode,

280 many furleys 3 he there did see,

fowles by the water did flee,

by brimes & bankes soe broad.

1 Gryngolet is the steed's name in the
old romance, but his colour is not given.
All the jolly bits about his trappings,
and Gawaine' s armour, with its pentangel
devised by Solomon, and called in
English " the endeles knot," are omitted

here. — F.

2 ferlie, wonder, wonderful ; Sax.
ferlic, repentinus, horrendus, Gl. ad
G.D.— P.

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

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

many furleys there saw hee
284 of wolues & wild beasts sikerlye ;

on hunting- hee tooke most heede.
forth he rode, the sooth to tell,
for to seeke the greene chappell,
288 he wist not where l indeed.

Gawaine sees
wondrous
beasts ;

As he rode in an eue[n]ing late,
riding downe a greene gate, 2

a faire castell saw hee, 3
292 that seemed a place of Mickle pride ;
thitherward Sir Gawaine can ryde

to gett some harborrowe. 4

[page 207]

discerns a

castle,

rides to

it,

thither he came in the twylight,
296 he was ware of a gentle Kmght,
the hord of the place was hee.
Meekly to him Sir Gawaine can speake,
& asked him, "for ~Kmg Arthurs sake,
300 of harborrowe I pray thee !

and asks its
lord

lodging

304

" I am a far Labordd Knight,

I pray you lodge me all this night."

he sayd him not nay,
hee tooke him by the arme & led him to the hall,
a poore child 5 can hee call,

saith, " dight well this palfrey."

for the night.

The lord
leads him in,

into a chamber the went a full great speed ;
308 there the found all things readye att need,
I dare safelye swere ;

1 The k is made over an er in the MS.
-F.

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

3 hee saw, or saw he there. — P.

4 harburee or harbere. Lodging. Urry.
—P.

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

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

and they go
to supper.

The lord's
wife

sups with
them,

and then
retires.

The lord
asks Ga-
waine

what he has
come there
for.

He will keep
his counsel.

fier in chambers burning bright,
candles in chandlers l burning light ;
312 to supper the went full yare. 2

he sent after his Ladye bright

to come to supp with that gentle K.night,

& shee came blythe with-all ;
316 forth shee came then anon,

her Maids following her eche one

in robes of rich pall. 3

as shee sate att her supper,
320 euer-more the Ladye clere

Sir Gawaine shee looked vpon.
when the supper it was done,
shee tooke her Maids, & to her chamber gone. 4

324 he cheered the J&dght & gaue him wine,
& said, " welcome, by St. Martine !
I pray you take itt for none ill ;
328 one thing, Sir, I wold you pray ;
what you make soe farr this way ?
the truth you wold me tell ;

" I am a ~Knight, & soe are yee ;
332 Your concell, an you will tell mee,
forsooth keepe itt I will ;

for if itt be poynt of any dread,

perchance I may helpe att need
336 either lowd or still."

Gawaine
tells him all,
not knowing
he was in

for 5 his words that were soe smooth,
had Sir Gawaine wist the soothe,
all he wold not haue told,

1 Candlesticks. — P.

2 Yare, acutus, ready, eager, nimble.
—P.

3 any rich or fine Cloth, but properly
purple: taken from the llobe worn by
Bishops. — P. See the description of the

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

4 Next line wanting in the MS. — F.

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

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

340 for that was the greene "Knight

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

Bredbeddle'f
castle.

he saith, "as to the greene chappell,

344 thitherward I can you tell,
itt is but furlongs 3.
the Master of it is a venterous Knight,
& workes by witchcraft day & night,

348 with many a great furley. 2

Bredbeddle
directs
Gawaine to
the Green
Chape],

(whose
master
works
witchcraft),

" if he worke w/th neuer soe much frauce, 3
he is curteous as he sees cause.

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

vnder the greenwood tree."

but advises
him to stay
and rest.

they plight their truthes 4 to beleeue, 5
356 either w^th other for to deale,

whether it were siluer or gold ;
he said, " we 2 both [sworn 6 ] wilbe,
what soeuer god sends you & mee,
360 to be parted on the Mold."

The greene Knight went on hunting 7 ;
Sir Gawaine in the castle beinge,
lay sleeping in his bed.

They agree
to share

whatever
either may
get.

1 harberoVd, lodged. — P.

2 wonder. — P.

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

4 trothes. — P.

5 be leil. — P. See Leele, 1. 478. But
if the text is right, see Wedgwood on be-
lieve in his English Etymology. " The
fundamental notion seems to be, to ap-
prove, to sanction an arrangement, to
deem an object in accordance with a
certain standard of fitness." — F.

6 ? See 1. 481, "wee were both."
The old romance sets out the agreement
at length, 1. 1105-9: What the Green
Knight wins hunting in the wood, Ga-
waine is to have ; what Gawaine gets at
home, the Green Knight is to have —
" Sweet, swap we so, swear with truth,
whether, man, loss befall, or better." — F.

7 The spirited accounts in the old
romance of the three-days' hunt of the deer,
wild boar, and fox, are all left out here.
All the go is taken out of the poem. — F.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

Bredbeddle's
witch
mother-in-
law

364 Vprose the old witclie with hast thro we, 1
& to her dauhter can shee goe,
& said, " be not adread ! "

[page 208]

tells his wife

that Ga-
waine
is in the
castle,
and takes
her to him,

to her daughter can shee say,

368 " the man that thou hast wisht many a day,
of him thou maist be sped ;
for Sir Gawaine that curteous Knight
is lodged in this hall all night."

372 shee brought her to his bedd.

and tells
him to
embrace her.

shee saith, " gentle Knight, awake !
& for this faire Ladies sake
that hath loued thee soe deere,
376 take her boldly in thine armes,

there is noe man shall doe thee harme ; "
now beene they both heere.

The wife
kisses him
thrice,
and asks his
love.

Gawaine

the ladye kissed him times 3,
380 saith, "without I have the loue of thee,
my life standeth in dere. 2 "
Sir Gawaine blushed on the Lady bright,
saith, " jour husband is a gentle Kjiight,
384 by him that bought mee deare !

refuses to
shame his
host.

" to me itt were great shame
if I shold doe him any grame, 3

that hath beene kind to mee ;
388 for I haue such a deede to doe,
that I can neyther rest nor roe, 4

att an end till itt bee."

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

2 Dere, Isedere, nocere. Lye. — P.

3 Grame — Chauc 1 ! . Grief, sorrow, vexa-
tion, anger, madness, trouble, affliction.
S. D, am [or Gram,] furor. Urry. — P.

4 A. -Sax. row, quiet, repose. — F.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

then spake that Laclye gay,
392 saith, " tell me some x of yowr Iourney,
j our succour I may bee ;
if itt he poynt of any warr,
there shall noe man doe you noe darr 2
396 & yee wilbe gouemed by mee ;

" for heere I haue a lace of silke,
it is as white as any milke,
& of a great value."
400 shee saith, " I dare safely e sweare
there shall noe man doe you deere 3
when you haue it 4 vpon you."

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

the ~K.nicjht in the fforrest slew many a hind,

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

plenty e of does & wild swine,
foxes & other ravine,

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

" home 5 to your owne, welcome you bee,

by him that harrowes hell ! "

the greene ~Knight his venison downe Layd ;
416 then to S/r Gawaine thus hee said,
" tell me anon in heght, 6

what noueltyes that you haue won,

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

The wife

offers to
help Ga-
waine in his
adventure,

and will
give him a
silk lace

that will
protect him
from all
harm.

Gawaine
takes the
lace.

Bredbeddle,

after

hunting,

is welcomed
hoire by
Gawaine.

lie shares
his venison
with Ga-
waine,

1 Sir.— P.

2 A.-S. dar, injury, hurt. — F.

3 hurt, vid. supra [p. 72, n. 2].— P.

4 on you. — P. There is a bit of a p

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

5 to your own home welcome, &c.
—P.

6 speed ; like highing, from to high, — F.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

and Ga-
waine gives
him his
three kisses,

Sir Gawaine sware by S* Leonard, 1

" such as god sends, you shall haue rjart

in his armes he hent the Knight,
424 & there he kissed him times 3,

saith, " heere is such as god sends mee,

by Mary most of Might."

but keeps
back the
lace.

Next day

euer priuilye he held the Lace :
428 that was all the villanye that euer was
prooued by 2 Sir Gawaine the gay.

then to bed soone the went,

& sleeped there verament
432 till morrow itt was day.

Gawaine
takes leave,

and rides
towards the
chapel.

then Sir Gawaine soe curteous & free,
his leaue soone taketh hee

att 3 the Lady soe gaye ;
436 Hee thanked her, & tooke the lace,
& rode towards the chappell apace ;

he knew noe whitt the way.

[page 209]

Bredbeddle
rides there
too.

euer more in his thought he had
440 whether he shold worke as the Ladye bade,
that was soe curteous & sheene.

the greene knight rode another way ;

he transposed him in another array,
444 before as it was greene.

Gawaine
hears a horn,

as Sir Gawaine rode ouer the plain e,
he hard one high 4 vpon a Mountaine
a home blowne full lowde.

1 November 6. — S. Leonard or Lionart
may be termed the Howard of the sixth
century. He was . . probably received into
the Church at the same time as his royal
master, Clovis, with whom he was in
high favour, and who gave him permission
to set many of the prisoners at liberty

who were confined in the dungeons which
his charity prompted him to visit. Notes
on the Months, p. 341.

2 on. — P. A.-Sax. be, bi, of, concern-
ing.— F.

3 of.— P. Att is right.— F.

4 on high. — P.

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

448 lie looked after the greene cliappell,
he saw itt stand vnder a hill
couered With euyes l about ;

and sees the

Green

Chapel,

he looked after the greene Knight,
452 he hard him wehett a fauchion bright,
that the hills rang about,
the 'Knight spake wi'th strong cheere,
said, " yee be welcome, S[ir] Gawaine heere,
45 G it behoove th thee to Lowte." 2
he stroke, & litle perced the- skin,
vnneth the flesh within.

then Sir Gawaine had noe doubt ;

and the
Green
Knight ;

who calls
him to lay
down his
head,

then strikes,

but hardly
cuts through
the flesh.

460 he saith, " thou shontest 3 ! why dost thou soe ? "
then S/r Gawaine in hart waxed throe 4 ;

vpon his ffeete can stand,
& soone he drew out his sword,
464 & saith, " traitor ! if thou speake a word,
thy liffe is in my hand 5 ;
I had but one stroke att thee,
& thou hast had another att mee,
468 noe falshood in me thou found ! "

He re-
proaches
Gawaine for
shrinking.

Gawaine
threatens
to kill him.

the 'Knight said withouten laine,
" I wend I had S/r Gawaine slaine,

the gentlest Knight in this land 6 ;
472 men told me of great renowne,

of curtesie thou might haue woon the crowne

aboue both free & bound, 7

Bredbeddle
answers that
Gawaine

1 I suppose Ivyes or perhaps Eughes,
i.e. yews. — P.

2 somegreat omission. Note in MS. Sir
Gawayne and the Green Knight makes
Gawaine answer that he is ready and
will not shrink. " Then the grim man
seizes his grim tool," strikes, and as it
comes gliding down, Gawaine shrinks a
little. Bredbeddle (that is, Bernlak de
Hautdesert) reproaches him for his

cowardice. Gawaine promises not to
shrink again, stands firm, and Bred-
beddle strikes, (ed. Morris, E. E. Text
Soc. p. 72-4.)— F.

3 slmntest, flinchest, shrinkest. — F.

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

5 hond.— P.

6 Londe.— P. 7 bond.— P.

THE GKENE KNIGHT.

has lost his
three chief
virtues, of
truth, gen-
tleness, and
courtesy.

He has
concealed
the lace,

and should
have shared
it.

" & alsoe of great gentrye ;

476 & now 3 points l be put fro thee,
it is the Moe pittye :
Sir Gawaine ! thou wast not Leele 2
when thou didst the lace conceale

480 that my wiffe gaue to thee !

" ffor wee were both, thou wist fall well,
for thou hadst the halfe dale 3

of my venerye 4 ;
484 if the lace had neuer beene wrought,

to haue slaine thee was neuer my thought,

I swere by god verelye !

Tet Bred-
beddle will

forgive him
if he'll take
him to
Arthur's
court.

"I wist it well my wiffe loued thee ;

488 thou wold doe me noe villanye,
but nicked her wz'th nay ;
but wilt thou doe as I bidd thee,
take me to Arthurs court with thee,

492 then were all to my pay. 5 "

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

now are the Knights accorded thore G ;
to the castle of hutton 7 can the fare,
to lodge there all that night.
496 earlye on the other day

to Arthurs court the tooke the way
with harts blyth & light.

All rejoice
at Gawaine's
return.

all the Court was full faine,
500 aliue when they saw Sir Gawaine ;
they thanked god abone. 8

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

2 i. e. loyal, honourable, true. — P.

3 A.-S. dM, part. — F.

4 venison, or rather hunting. So in
ChaucT. Fr. Venerie. Urry. — P.

5 content, liking. — P.

6 there.— P.

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

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

THE GRENE KNIGHT.

that is the matter & the case
why Knights of the bathe weare the lace
504 vntill they haue wonen their shoen, 1

or else a ladye of hye estate
from about his necke shall it take,

for the doughtye deeds that hee hath done.
508 it was confirmed by Arthur the K[ing ;]
thorrow Sir Gawaines desiringe

The King granted him his boone.

This is why
knights of
the Bath
wear the
lace till
they've won
their spurs,
or a lady
takes the
lace oS.

Thus endeth the tale of the greene Knight, [page 210]

512 god, that is soe full of might,
to heauen their soules bring
that haue hard this litle storye
that fell some times in the west countrye

516 in Arthurs days our King ! ffillS.

God bring
all my
hearers to
heaven !

This little
story befell
in the West
Country.

' Seep. 123, 1. 1232.— F.

[It may be noted, that as the story is
told here, the point of it is missed. As
the agreement of Bredbeddle and Gawaine
is here only to share with the other what
each gets, p. 71, 1. 356, not to change it,
as in the old romance. Bredbeddle
gives Gawaine only half his venison, p. 76,
1. 482, and Gawaine gives Bredbeddle

half his gettings, three kisses, out of
three kisses and a lace. As he couldn't
cut three kisses in half, to go with the
half of the lace, he divided the gift fairly
in another way, — the three kisses to
Bredbeddle, the lace to himself. Rather
hard measure to lose one's "3 points"
for that.— F.]

£>tr: Crfamore.: 1

The earliest known existing copy of this Eomance is preserved
at Cambridge. It is of the time of Henry VI., according to
Mr. Halliwell, who has edited it for the Percy Society. There
is, too, an old MS. copy preserved in the Bodleian Library.
The Eomance once enjoyed a wide popularity. It was twice
printed by William Copland. From one of these editions Mr.
Ellis draws the outline he gives in his Early English Metrical
Romances. One of the old printed versions was reprinted by
Mr. Utterson in 1817. The copy here given differs but slightly
from Copland's and from the Cambridge version. The more
important of what differences there are, are mentioned in the
notes.

The piece is a fair specimen of the old Eomances, with all
their vices and their virtues ; with their prolixity, their impro-
bability, their exaggeration ; with their wild graces also, their
chivalrousness, their pageantry.

The story tells how a good lord and his gentle lady were
estranged by the treachery of their steward ; how their son, con-
ceived in honour, was born in shame ; how, after many a weary
year, the execrable fraud was discovered ; and how, at last, the son
(who has in the meantime won himself a wife) and his mother
are happily reunited to the grieving husband. These various
incidents are described with much power and feeling.

King Arradas was blessed with a wife, Margaret, " comely to be
seen, and true as the turtle-doves on trees." As their union was
not followed by the birth of any child, the King determines to

1 271 Stanzas.— P.

SIR TRIAMORE. 79

go and fight in the Holy Land, so to propitiate Heaven and per-
suade it to grant him an heir. On the very eve of his departure
his desire is granted. But he sets forth to the wars not knowing.
During his absence his steward Marrock evilly solicits the
Queen. "But she was steadfast in her thought." When the
King returned from heathenness, and

at last his Queen beheld,
And saw her go great with child,

He wondered at that thing.
Many a time he did her kiss,
And made great joy without miss,

His heart made great rejoicing.

The wicked steward avails himself of the King's wonder to
insinuate, and more than insinuate, that the child is none of his.
The King unhappily listens. The Queen is presently, at the
steward's advice, banished the country.

So now is exiled that good Queen,
But she wist not what it did mean,

Nor what made him to begin.
To speak to her he nay would ;
That made the Queen's heart full cold,

And that was great pity and sin.
*****

For oft she mourned as he did fare,

And cried and sighed full sore.

Lords, knights, and ladies gent
Mourned for her when she went,
And bewailed her that season.

In this way came to pass the sad schism that was to bring so
many years of forlornness and anguish, the source of so many
bitter tears and poignant self-reproaches. The child whom the
dishonoured lady then bore in her womb was to be a full-grown
man, and a warrior even more formidable than his father himself,
ere Arradas and Margaret kissed conjugally again. Who does
not rejoice when the fair fame of this true wife is vindicated, the
iniquity of her tempter made bare? When at last, at the
marriage of their son, Sir Triamour, to the beautiful Helen of
Hungary, she and her husband are again brought face to face :

80 SHI TR1AMORE.

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

She was a lady faire.
The King said, " If it is your wish,
Your name me for to tell,

I pray you with words fair."

" My lord," said she, " I was your Queen ;
Your steward did me ill teen.

That evil might him befall ! "
The King spake no more words
Till the cloths were drawn from the boards,

And men rose in hall,
And by the hand he took the Queen,
So in the chamber forth he went,

And there she told him all.

Then was there great joy and bliss
When they together gan kiss ;

Then all the company made joy enough.

But we do not propose here to gather the wild flowers of this
poem for our readers. They shall wander through the meadows
and cull for themselves. They will easily find them blowing
and blooming, if they have any care for the blossoms of Romance.

yo^auT LOW ! Iesus Christ, o 2 heauen King !

grant you all his deare blessing,

& his heauen for to win !
Hsten 1 ' 11 4 if y ou wm a stond 3 lay to youv eare,

ataie lly ° U of ad ventures you shall heare

that wilbe to yowr liking,

f Ki n g of a "King & of a queene

8 that had great Ioy them betweene ;
Sir Arradas 4 was his name ;
and Queen Be na( ^ a queene named Margarett,

shee was as true as Steele, & sweet,
defamed 8 by 12 & full false brought in fame 5

1 Now. — Cop. (or Copland's edition. 4 Ardus. — Ca. (or Cambridge text,
Collated by Mr. Hales.) ed. Halliwell.— F.)

2 our. — Cop. 5 evil report, disrepute ; L. fa ma (in

3 stounde. — Cop. a bad sense), ill-repute, infamy, scandal ;

.SIK TKIAMUKE.

by the "Kings steward that Marrocke hight,
a traitor & a false knight :

herafter yee will say all the same,
hee looued well that Ladye gent ;
& for shee wold not with him consent,

he did that good Queene much shame.

Sir Marrock

because she
would not
yield to him.

this King loued well his Queene
20 because shee was comlye l to be seene,
& as true as the turtle on tree,
either to other made great Moane,
for children together had they none
24 begotten on their bodye ;

Arradas and
Margaret

lament
that they
are childless,

therfore the King, I vnderstand,
made a vow to goe to the holy land,

there for to fight & for to slay 2 ;
& praid god that he wold send him tho
grace to gett a child be-tweene them tow,

that the right heire might bee.

and Arradas

vows to go
to the Holy
Land,

praying God
to send him
an heir.

for his vow he did there make,
32 & of the pope the Crosse he did take,

for to seek the land were god him bought,
the night of his departing, on the Ladye Mild,
as god it wold, hee gott 3 a child ;
36 but they both wist itt naught.

He begets a
child on his
wife,

& on the morrow when it was day
the King hyed on his Iourney ;
for to tarry, he it not thought.

and next
day starts
on his
journey.

famosas, infamous. (White.) Compare

For yf it may be founde in thee
That thou them fame for enmyte,
Thou shalt be taken as a felon,
And put full depe in my pryson.

VOL. II.

The Squyr of Lowe Dcgre. 1. 392
(Kitsoniii. 161, Hall!).— F.

1 semely. — Cop.

2 sle. — Cop.

3 gate. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMOJRE.

Queen

Margaret
mourns ;

40 then the Queene began to mourne

because her "Lord wold noe longer soiourne ;
shee sighed fall sore, & sobbed oft.

their parting
is sad.

the 'King & his men armed them right,
44 both Lords, Barrons, & many a knight,
wz'th.him for to goe.
then betweene her & the King
was much sorrow & mourninge
48 when the shold depart in too.

Arradas
charges
Marrock to
take care of
his Queen,

he kissed & tooke his leaue of the Queene x
& other Ladies bright & sheene,

& of Marrocke his steward alsoe ;
the King commanded him on paine of his life
for to keepe well his queene & wiffe

both in weale & woe.

and goes to
the Holy
Land.

Marrock

wooes the
Queen,

and seeks to
lie with her.

Margaret is
true,

now is the King forth gone

to the place where god was on the crosse done,

& warreth there a while,
then bethought this false steward —
as yee shall here affcer[ward, 1 ] —

his lord & King to beguile ;

he wooed 2 the Queene day & night
for to lye wi'th her, & he might ;

he dread no creature thoe.
ffull fayre hee did that Lady speake, [ page 2 n]

that he might in bed with, that Ladye sleepe ;

thus full oft he prayed her thoe.

but shee was stedfast in her thought,
& heard them speake, & said nought
till hee all his case 3 had told.

MS. hereafter. P. has added ward.—F. 2 wowed.— Cop. • 1 tale.— Cop.

SIR TKIAMORE.

then shee said, " Marrocke, hast thou not thought
all that thou speakeest is ffor nought ?
I trow not that thou wold 1 ;

and re-
proaches
Marrock.

" for well my Lord did trust thee,
when hee to you deliuered mee

to haue me vnder the 2 hold ;
& [thou] woldest full faine
to doe thy Lord shame !

traitor, thou art to bold ! "

Her lord
trusted him,

and he

betrays his
trust.

then said Marrocke vnto that Ladye,
80 " my Lord is gone now verelye
against gods foes to flight ;
&, without the more wonder bee,
hee shall come noe more att thee,
84 as I am a true knight.

Marrock

tells the
Queen

that Arradas
is sure never
to return ;

" & Madam, wee will worke soe priuilye,
that wethere 3 he doe Hue or dye,

for of this shall 4 witt noe wight. 5 "
then waxed the Queene wondcrous [wroth, 6 ]
& swore many a great othe

as shee was a true woman,

and promises
to keep their
sin secret.

Margaret
angrily

shee said, " traitor ! if euer thou be soe hardiye
92 to show me of such villanye,

on a gallow tree I will thee hange !

if I may know after this

that thou tice me, I- wis 7
96 thou shalt haue the law of the land."

threatens to

hang

Marrock,

if he says
another
word to her.

1 I didn't think you were capable of
this.— F.

2 they. — Cop.

3 After the first e an A is marked out.
— F.

4 there shall. — Ca.

5 man. — P.

6 Added by Percy.— F.

7 tyce me to do a mysse. — Cop.

g 2

SIR TRIAMORE.

Marrock
assures her
lie meant
her no
wrong,

but only to
try her
truth.

Sir Marroccke said, " Ladye, mercy e I
I said itt for noe villaine,
by Iesu, heauen Kinge !
100 but only for to prone jour will,
whether that you were good or ill,
& for noe other thinge ;

Now he
knows she is
true,

she must not
be vexed.

" bnt now, Madam, I may well see
104 yon are as true as turtle on the tree l
vnto my Lord the King ;

& itt is to me both glad & leefe ;

therfore take it not into greefe
108 for noe manner of thinge."

Margaret
believes him.

But
Marrock,

disgusted,

112

& soe the traitor excused him thoe,
the Lady wend itt had beene soe

as the steward had said.
he went forth, & held him still,
& thought he cold not haue his will ;

therfore hee was euill apayd.

schemes how
to betray
her,

and does it.

2 soe wt'th treason & trecherye
116 he thought to doe her villanye ;
thus to himselfe he said,
night & day hee laboured then
for to betray 3 that good woman ;
120 soe att the last he her betraid.

Arradaa

now of this good Queene leaue wee,
& by the grace of the holy trinityo

full great -with, child did shee gone.
124 now of ~FLing Arradas speake wee,
that soe farr in heathinnesse is hee

to fight against gods fone 4 ;

1 as stele on tree. — Ca.

2 This stanza is not in Ca.

3 deceyue. — Cop.
* fonne. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

there with his army & all his might
128 slew many a sarrazen l in fight,
great words of them there rose

in the heathen Land, & alsoe in Pagaine 2 ;

& in enerye other Land that they come bye,
132 there sprang of him great losse. 3

and his men

slay

Saracens

and grow
famous.

when [he 4 ] had done his pilgrimage,
& labored all that great voyage 5
with all his good will & lybertye, —
136 att fflome lor den & att Bethlem, 6
& att Calnarye beside Ierusalem,
in all the places was hee ; —

[page 212]

After
visiting

Jordan and
Calvary,

then he longed to come home
140 to see his Ladye that liued at one ;
he thought euer on her greatlye.
soe long the sealed on the fome
till att the last they came home ;
144 he arriued oner the Last 7 strond.

he longs for
home,

and sets sail.

the shippes did strike their sayles eche one,
the men were glad the ILmg came home

vnto his owne Land.
148 there was both mirth & game,

the Queene of his cominge was glad & faine,

Eche of them told other tydand. 8

Arradas
reaches
home,

meets
Margaret,

the "King at last his Queene beheld,
152 & saw heer goe great with childe :

[& 9 ] hee wondred att that thinge.

and finds
her great
with child,

to his
wonder.

1 sarzyn. — Cop.

2 Pagany. — Cop.

3 Loos or fame, Fama. Prompt.orium.
-F.

4 he.— Ca.

5 vayge. — Cop.

6 Bedleem. — Cop.

7 salte. — Cop.

8 tydynge. — Cop.

9 A hole in the MS.

SIK TMAMORE.

Marrock
tells him

that the
child is

many a time he did her kisse,
& made great ioj without misse ;
156 his hart 1 made great reioceinge.

soone after the ~King hard tydinges newe
by Marroccke : that false knight vntrue

with reason his lord gan fraine,
160 " my lord," he sayd, " for gods 2 byne 3 !
for of that childe that neuer was thine, 4

why art thow soe fayne ?

certainly
not his. His
Queen has
been false ;
another
knight begot
the child.

"What?
When I put
her in your
charge ? "

Marrock

excuses

himself,

but declares
he saw a
knight lie
with her,

for which he
killed him,

" you wend that itt jotir owne bee ;
164 but," he said, " Sir, ffor certain tye
jour Queene hath you betraine ;

another K.night, soe god me speed,

begott this child sith you yeed,
168 & hath thy Queene forlaine."

" Alas ! " said the King, " how may this bee ?
for I betooke her vnto thee,
her to keepe in waile & woe 5 ;
172 & vnder thy keeping how fortuned this
that thou suffered her doe amisse ?

alas, Marroccke ! why did thou soe ? "
" Sir," said the steward, " blame not me ;
176 for much mone shee made for thee,

as though shee had loued noe more ;

" I trowed on her noe villanye
till I saw one lye her by,
1 80 as the Mele 6 had wrought,
to him I came w/th Egar mood,
& slew the traitor as he stood ;
full sore itt [me] forethought.

1 First written halt.— F.

2 Goddes. — Cop.

3 Goddys pyne. — Oa.

4 MS. thine was.— F.

5 weal & woe. — P.

6 ? Fr. mal, evil ; or meslee, a mixture,
mingling, melling. Cotgrave. — F.

SIR TRIAHORE.

184 " then sliee trowed shee shold be shent,
& promised me both Land & rent ;

soe fayre shee me besought
to doe with her all my will
188 if that I wold [keepe] me still,
& tell you naught."

and the
Queen pro-
mised him

herself for
his silence.

" of this," said the Km^f, " I haue great wonder ;
for sorrow my hart will breake assunder l !
192 why hath shee done amisse ?
alas ! to whome shall I me mone,
sith I haue lost my comlye Queene
that I was wont to kisse ? "

Arradaa
sorrows.

He has lost
his Queen

196 the "King said, "Marroccke, what is thy read ?
it is best to turne to dead 2

my ladye that hath done me this 2 ;
now because that shee is false to mee,
200 I will neuer more her see,

nor deale with her, I-wisse. 3 "

What can he
do? He'll
kill her.

the steward said, " hord, doe not soe ;
thou shalt neither burne ne sloe, 4
204 but doe as I you shall you tell."
Marroccke sayd, " this councell I :
banish her out of jour Land priuilye,
far into exile.

Marrock
advises

him to
banish her,

208 " deliuer her an ambling 5 steede,
& an old Knight to her lead ;

thus by my councell see 6 yee doe ;

[page 213] gi ve her a
horse

asonder. — Cop.

? turne is for burne, cp. 1. 203. — F.
brenne her to ded. — Cop.
Whether that sche be done to dedd
That was my blysse ? — Ca.

3 ywys. — Cop.

4 flo.— Cop.

5 ambelynge. — Cop. oolde. — Ca.

6 loke. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

and money,

and let her
go.

& giue tlieni some spending money
212 that may them out of the land bring ;
I wold noe better then soe.

Arradas
agrees.

" & an other mans child shalbe you heyre,
itt were neither good nor fayre
216 but if itt were of jour kin."

then said the ~King, " soe mote I thee,
right as thou sayest, soe shall it bee,
& erst will I neuer blin. 1 "

Queen
Margaret is
to be exiled ;

the King
will not
speak to her.

220 Loe, now is exiled that good Queene ;
but shee wist not what it did meane,

nor what made him to begin,
to speake to her he nay wold ;
224 that made the Queenes hart full cold,
& that was great pittye & sin.

He gives her
an old iteed,

an old

knight,
Sir Roger,
to look after
her,

he did her cloth in purple 2 weede,
& set her on an old steed
228 that was both crooked & almost blinde ;
he tooke her an old Knight,
kine to the Queene, Sir Rodger 3 hight,
that was both curteous 4 & kind.

and three
days to quit
the land in,

(or the

Queen will
be burnt,)

232 3 dayes he gaue them leaue 5 to passe,
& after that day sett was,
if men might them find,
the Queene shold burned 6 be starke dead
236 in a flyer with flames redd :

this came of the stewards 7 mind. 8

1 blyne.— Cop.

2 He let clothe hur in sympulle.-

3 Roger.- Cop.

4 curteyse. — Cop.

5 And gaf them twenty dayes.
-Ca. 6 brenned. — Cop.

7 stuardes. — Cop.

8 minid, in the MS— F.

Ca.

SIR TRIAMORE.

40'f florences for their expence l
the "King did giue them in his presence,
240 & comawnded them to goe.

the Ladye mourned as shee shold dye ;
for all this shee wist not whye
hee fared with her soe.

244 that good Knight comforted the Queene,
& said, " att gods will all must beene ;

therfore, Madam, mourne you noe more."
Sir Rodger for her hath much care,
248 [For ofte she mourned as she dyd fare, 2 ]
& cryed & sighed full sore ;

Lords, Knights, & ladyes gent
mourned for her when shee went,
252 & be-wayled 3 her that season.

the Queene began to make sorrow & care
when shee from the King shold fare
with wrong, against all reason.
256 forth they went, in number 4 3,

Sir Rodger, the Queene, & his greyhound trulye ;
ah ! o 5 worth wicked treason !

also forty
florins.

Queen

Margaret
mourns.

Sir Roger
comforts her,

but she
wails still,

and they set
off.

then thought the steward trulye
260 to doe the Queene a villanye,
& to worke with her his will.

he ordained him a companye

of his ovrae men priuilye
264 that wold assent him till ;

all vnder a Wood 6 side they did lye
wheras the Queene shold passe by,
& held them wonderous still ;

Marrock

gets his men
together,

and lies in
ambush for
the Queen,

1 Thretty florens to there spendynge.
-Ca.

2 This line is from Copland's text.— H.

3 MS. he wayled.— F.

4 nunnber, in the MS.— F.

wo.-

-Cop.

6 wodes. — Cop.
vv in the MS.— F.

The Wis matlo like

SIR TRIAMORE.

to work his 268 & there lie thought verelye

lust on her. , . 1 r\ r ±. i i

his good Queene tor to lye by,
his lusts l for to fulfill.

The Queen
and Sir
Roger

perceive
Marrock's

treason.

Sir Roger
prepares

& when hee came into the wood,
272 Sir Rodger & the Queene soe good,
& there 2 to passe with-out doubt ;

with that they were ware of the steward,

how hee was coming to them ward
276 with a ffull great rout.

"heere is treason ! " then said the Queene.
"alas! " said Roger, "what may this meane ?
with foes wee be sett round about."
280 the "Knight sayd, " heere will wee dwell ;

Our lifie wee shall full deere sell, [page 2U]

be they neuer soe stout.

for defence.

Marrock
threatens to
kill him.

Sir Roger
defies him,

attacks his
men,

" Madam," he sayd, " be not aflrayd,
284 for I thinke heere with this sword
that I shall make them lowte."
then cryed the steward to S/r Rodger on hye,
& said, " Lore?, 3 traitor ! thou shalt dye !
288 for that I goe about."

Sir Rodger said, " not for thee !
my death shalt thou deare abye;

for with thee will I fight."
292 he went to him shortlye,

& old Sir Rodger bare him manfullye 4

like a full hardye Knight ;

he hewed on them boldlye ;
296 there was none of that companye
soe hardye nor sow 5 wight.

1 lustes. — Cop.

2 ? construction. Is there miswritten
for thought, or is thought understood, or

is thereto one word ? — H.

3 olde. — Cop. 4 manly. — Cop.

5 so. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

Sir Rodger liitt l one on the head

that to the girdle the sword yeed,

300 then was hee of them quitte 2 ;

splits one to
the girdle,

he smote a stroke wt'th a sword 3 good
that all about them ran the blood,

soe sore he did them smite ;
304 trulye-hee, 4 his greyhound that was soo 5 good,
did helpe his master, & by him stood,

& bitterlye can hee byte.

wounds
others,

and his
greyhound,
Trulyhee,
helps.

then that Lady, that fayre foode, 6
308 she feared Marrocke in her mood ;

shee light on foote, & left her steede,
& ran fast, & wold not leaue,
& hid her vnder a greene greaue, 7
312 for shee was in great dread.

Queen
Margaret

dismounts,

runs away,

and hides
herself.

S/r Rodger then the Queene can behold,
& of his liffe he did nothing hold ;

his good grayhound did help him indeed,
316 &, as itt is in the romans 8 told,
14 he slew of yeomen 9 bold ; 10

soe he quitted him in that steade.

Sir Roger

kills fourteen
yeomen,

if hee had beene armed, I-wisse 1 1
320 all the Masterye had been his ;
alas hee lacked weed,
as good Sir Rodger gaue a stroake,
behind him came Sir Marroccke, —
324 that euill might he speed, —

but Marrock

1 hyt.— Cop.

2 quyte. — Cop.

3 swerde. — Cop.

4 Trewe-loue. — Ca.

5 de at the end has been marked out
of the MS.— F.

6 fode. — Cop. person. — F.

7 greye. — Cop. grove. — F.

8 Romaynes. — Cop.

9 yemen. — Cop.

10 xl'.' Syr Koger downe can folde. —
Ca.

11 ywis. — Cop.

SIR TRTAMORE.

stabs him in
the back

and kills
him.

Marrock

searches
everywhere
for the
Queen,

lie smote Sir Rodger with, a speare,
& to tile ground he did him beare,

& fast that Knight did bleed.
328 Sir Marroccke gaue him such a wound
that he dyed there on ground,

& that was a sinfull deede.

now is Rodger slaine certainlye.

332 he rode forth & let him Lye,
& sought after the Queene.
fast hee rode, & sought euerye way,
yet wist he not where the Queene Laye.

336 then said the traitor teene ; x

but cannot
find her : he

gets wroth,

ouer all the wood hee her sought ;
but as god wold, he found her nought.

then waxed he wrath, I weene,
340 & held his Iourney euill besett,

that with, the Queene had not mett

to haue had his pleasure, the traitor keene.

& when he cold not the lady finde,
344 homeward they began to wend,

hard by where Sir Rodger Lay.
the steward 2 him thrust throughout,
for of his death he had noe doubt,
348 & this the storye doth say.

and goes
home,

Roger's
corpse on
the way,

and having
lost fourteen
men.

& when the traitor had done soe,
he let him lye & went him froe,

& tooke noe thought that day ;
352 yett all his companye was nye gone,
14 he left there dead for one ;

there passed but 4 away. 3

1 If a stanza is not omitted, said must
mean assayed, tried. — F.

2 stuarde. — Cop.

3 xl. he had chaunged for oone.
Ther skaped but two away. — Ca.

SIR TRIAMORE.

then the Queene was ffull woe,
356 And shee saw thai they were goe,
shee made sorrow & crye.
then shee rose & went againe
to Sir Rodger, & found him slaine ;
360 his grey-hound by his feet did lye.

[page 215]

Queen
Margaret

laments over

" alas," shee said, " that I was borne !
my trew knight that I haue lorne,

they haue him there slaine ! "
364 full pitteouslye shee mad her moane,
& said, " now must I goe alone ! "

the grey-hound shee wold haue had full faine ;

Sir Roger's
corpse.

the hound still by his Master did lye,

368 he licked his wounds, & did whine & crye.

this to see the Queene had paine,

& said, "Sir Roger, this hast thou for me !

alas that [it] shold euer bee ! "
372 her hayre shee tare in twayne ;

The grey-
hound will
not leave the
corpse.

376

& then shee went & tooke her steed,
& wold noe longer there abyde

lest men shold find her there,
shee said, "Sir Roger, now thou art dead,
who will the right way now me lead ?

for now thow mayst speake noe more."

The Queen

laments
again the
loss of Sir
Roger,

right on the ground there as he lay dead,
380 shee kist him or shee from him yead. 1
god wott her hart was sore !
what for sorrow & dread,
fast away shee can her speede,
384 shee wist not wither nor where.

kisses his
corpse,

and speeds
away.

1 This incident is not in Ca. — F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

The hound

licks his
master's
wounds, to
heal them.

What love !

The hound

scrapes a
grave,
and buries
his master.

Margaret

rides on into
Hungary.

The pains of
labour come
on,

the good grayhound for waile & woe
from the 'Knight hee wold not goe,

but Lay & licked his wound ;
388 he waite l to haue healed them againe,
& therto he did his paine :

loe, such loue is in a hound 2 !

this knight lay till he did 3 stinke ;

392 the greay hound he began to thinke,
& scraped a pitt anon ;
therin he drew the dead 4 corse,
& couered itt with earth & Mosse, 5

396 & from him he wold not gone.

the grayhound lay still there ;
this Quee7ie gan forth to fare

for dread of her fone ;
400 shee had great sorrow in her hart,

the thornes pricked her wonderous smart, 6

shee wist not wither to goe.

this lady forth fast can hye

404 into the land of Hugarye 7 ;

thither came shee with great woe.
at last shee came to a wood side,
but then cold shee noe further ryde,

408 her paynes tooke her soe.

shee lighted downe in that tyde,

for there shee did her trauncell 8 abyde ;

god wold that it shold be soe.
412 then shee with much paine
tyed her horsse by the rayne,

& rested her there till her paynes were goe.

1 expected. — F.

2 Grete kyndenes ys in howndys. — Ca.

3 The last d is made over an s in the
MS.— F. * deed.— Cop.

6 And scraped on hym hothe ryne and

mosse. — Ca.

6 wonder smert. — Cop.

7 Hongarye. — Ca. Hongrye. — Cop.

8 for trauell, travail. — F. trauayll.
-Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

sliee was deliuered of a manchild sweete ;

416 & when it began to crye & weepe,
it ioyed her hart greatlye.
soone after, when shee might stirr,
shee tooke her child to her full neere,

420 And wrapt 1 itt full softlye. [page 216]

What for wearye & for woe,
they fell a-sleepe both to we ;

her steed stood her behind.
424 then came a knight rydand there, 2

& found this ladye soe louelye of cheere

as hee hunted after the hind.

the Knight hight Bernard Mowswinge, 3
428 that found the Queene sleepinge,
vnder the greenwoode lyande. 4

softlye he went neere & neere ;

he went on foot, & beheld her cheere,
432 as a Knight curteous & kind.

he awaked that ladye of beawtye 5 ;
shee looked on him pitteouslee,

& was affray d r> full sore.
436 he said, " what doe you here, Madame ?
of whence be you, or whats jouv name ?

haue you jour men forlorne 7 ? "

" Sir," shee sayd, " if you will witt, 8
440 my name is 9 called Margerett ;
in Arragon I was borne ;

heere I sufferd much greefe ;

helpe me, Sir, 10 out of this-Mischeefe !
444 att some towne that I were."

and she is
delivered of
a male child.

She joys,

takes her
baby to her,

and falls
asleep.

A knight
finds her,

Sir Bernard
Mowswinge,

wakes her,

and asks her
what she
does there,
what is her
name?

1 Margaret ;

help me ! "

1 wrauped. — Cop.

2 nere. — Cop.

3 Sir Barnarde Messengere. — Ca. Bar-
nard Mausewynge. — Cop.

4 lynde. — Cop.

s beaute. — Cop.

6 aferde. — Cop.

7 MS. forlorme. — F. forlore. — P.

8 wete. — Cop.

9 MS. is is; ?for it is.— F.

10 There appears a word like it marked
out here in the MS.— F.

Sir Bernard

takes her

and her
baby home,

gets a
woman to
tend her,

and gives
her all she
wants.

She christens
her boy
Triamore,

SIB TRIAMORE.

the Knight beheld the Ladye good ;
hee ' thought shee was of gentle blood
that was soe hard bestead 2 ;
448 he tooke her vp curteouslye,
& the child that lay her bye ;
them both with, hini he led,

& made her haue a woman att will,
452 tendinge of her, as itt was skill, 3
all for to bring her a-bedd.
whatsoever shee wold haue,
shee needed itt not long to craue,
456 her speech was right soone sped.

the christened the child wz'th great honour,
& named him Sir Tryamore.

then they were of him glad ;
460 great gifts to him was giuen
of Lords & ladyes by-deene,

in bookes as I read.

and stays
with her
new friends.

Triamore is

taught

courtesy,

and all folk
love him.

there dwelled that Ladye longe
464 wt'th much Ioy them amonge ;

of her the were neuer wearye.
the child was taught great nurterye 4 ;
a Master had him vnder his care,
468 & taught him curtesie. 5

this child waxed wonderous well,
of great stature both of fleshe & fell ;
euerye man loued him trulye,

472 of his company e all folke were glad ;

indeed, noe other cause they had,

the child was gentle & bold.

1 MS. shee.— F. And.— Ca.

2 bestadde. — Cop.

3 skell. — Cop. reason. — F.

4 nurture. — P. norture. — Cop.

5 Sche techyd hur sone for to wyrke,
And taght hym evyr newe. — Ca.

SIB TKIAMOliE.

Now of the Queene let wee bee,
476 & of the gray hound speake wee
that I erst of told.

Sir Roger's
grey hound

long 7 yeeres, soe god me sane,
he did keepe his Masters grane,
480 till that hee waxed old ;

this Gray-hound Sir Roger kept l long,
& brought him vp sith he was younge,
in stoxy as it is told ;

keeps to his
in-,ister"s
grave seven
years,

for Sir Roger
had brought
him up.

484 therfore he kept soe there
for the 2 space of 7 yeere,

& goe from him he ne wold,
euer vpon bis M.asters graue he lay,
488 there might noe man haue him away
for heat neither for cold,

The hound
never leaves
[page 217] the grave,

without it were once a day
he ran about to gett his prey 3
492 of beasts that were bold,

conyes, when be can them gett ;
thus wold he labor for his meate,
yett great hungar he bad in how. 4

except

to get food.

496 & 7 yeeres he dwelled there,
till itt beffell on that yeere,
euen on christmasse day,
the gray-hound (as the story sayes)
500 came to the K.ivgs palace 5
without any 6 delay.

One Christ-
mas
the hound

goes to

Arradas's

palace,

had kepte. — Cop.
By the. — Cop.
praye. — Cop.

4 holde. — Cop. How, care. Halliwull.
— F.

5 palayes. — Cop.

6 ony. — Cop.

VOL. II.

SIR TIUAMORE.

cannot find
what he
seeks,

and goes
back to Sir
Roger's
grave.

Arradas

thinks he
has seen the
dog before.

Next day

the hound
returns,

but cannot

find

Marrock.

Arradas says
it is Sir
Roger's dog,

and perhaps
the Queen
has come
back ;

when they LortZs were l sett at rrieate, soone
the grayhound into the hall runn
504 amonge the knights gay ;

all about he can behold,

but he see not what hee wold ;

then went he his way full right
508 when he had sought & cold not find ;
ffull gentlye he did his kind,

speed better when he might.

the grayhound ran forth his way
512 till he came where his ~M.aster Lay,
as fast as euer he mought.
the king marueiled at that deed,
from whence he went, & whither he yeed,
516 or who him thither brought.

the ~KAng thought he had seene him ere,
but he wist not well where,
therfor he said right nought.
520 soone he bethought him then
that he did him erst ken,

& 2 still stayd in that thought.

the other day, in the same wise,
524 when the ~K:ing shold from his meate rise,
the Grayhound came in thoe ;
all about there he sought,
but the steward found he nought ;
528 then againe he began to goe.

the[n] sayd the ILmg in thai stond,
"methinkes it is Sir Rogers hound

that went forth with the Queene ;
532 I trow they be come againe to this land.
Jjords, all this I vnderstand,

it may right well soe bee ;

1 The first e is made over an h in the MS. — F.

sate styll in a. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

" if that they be into this Land come,
536 we shall haue word therof soone
& within short space ;
for neuer since the went I-wisse
I saw not the gray hound ere this ;
540 it is a marueilous case !

" when he cometh againe, follow him,
fo[r] euermore he will run l

to his Masters dwelling place ;
544 run & goe, looke ye not spare,
till that yee come there

to Sir Rodger & my Queene."

when the
dog comes
again, some
lords are to
follow him

to Sir Roger
and the
Queen.

then the 3? day, amonge them all
548 the grayhound came into the hall,
to meate ere the were 2 sett.
Marrocke the steward was within,
the grayhound thought he wold not blin
552 till he with him had mett ;

Next day
the dog
comes again,

finds
Marrock,

he tooke the steward by the throte,
& assunder he it bote 3 ;
but then he wold not byde,
556 for to his graue he rann.

there follolwed him many a man,
some on horsse, some beside ;

and

bites him
through the
throat.

Men follow
the dog

& when he came where his "Master was,
560 he Layd him downe beside the grasse

And barked at the men againe. [page 218]

there might noe man him from the place gett,
& yett w/th staues the did him beate,
564 that he was almost slaine.

to Sir Roger's
grave,

which he will
not quit.

1 renne. — Cop.

2 werere, in the MS. — F.

3 MS. o over a y. — F. The. hovnd
wrekyd hys maystyrs dethe. — Ca.

h 2

100

They return,

and Arradas

says that
Marrock has
slain Sir
Roger.

He orders a
search for
his corpse.

They find
the body,

SIR TllIAMORE.

& when the men saw noe better boote,
then the men yeed home on horsse & foote,
with great wonder, I weene.
568 the King said, " by gods paine,

I trow Sir Marrocke hath Sir Rodger slaine,
& with treason famed l my Qneene.

" goe yee & seeke there againe ;

572 for the hounds M.aster there is slaine,
some treason there hath beene."
thither they went, soe god me saue,
& found Sir Roger in his graue,

576 for that was soone seene :

and take it
to Arradas,

who weeps,

laments over

Marrock's

treachery,

& there they looked him there vpon,
for he was hole both flesh & bone,

& to the court his body they brought.
550 for when the King did him see,
the teares ran downe from his eye,

full sore itt him forethought.

the gray hound 2 he wold not from his course 3 fare

584 then was the King cast in care,

& said, " Marroccke hath done me teene ;
slaine he hath a curteous Knight,
& famed 4 my Queene With great vnright,

588 as a traitor keene."

and hanged.

592

the King let draw anon- right

the stewards bodye, that false Knight,

with horsse through the towne ;
then he hanged him on a tree,
that all men might his body see,

^7i«t he had done treason.

1 defamed. — F. flemed. — Cop.

2 grehcmnd. — Cop.

3 corse. — Cop.

4 for famed, defamed.-
— Ca. flemed. — Cop.

-F. flemyd.

SIR TRIAMORE.

101

Sir Rogers Body the next day
596 the King bury eel in good array,
wrth many a bold baron. 1

Sir Roger's
corpse is
buried,

the Grayhound was neuer away
by night nor yet by day,
600 but on the ground he did dye.
the 'King did send his messengere
in euerye place far & neere
after the Queene to spye ;
604 but for ought he cold enquire,

he cold of that Ladye nothing heare ;
therfore the King was sorrye. 1

and his
hound

dies.

Arradas tries
to get

tidings of
his Queen,

but can hear
none.

the King sayd, " I trow noe reed,
608 for well I wott that shee is dead ;
for sorrowe now shall I dye !

alas, that euer shee from mee went !

this false steward hath me shent
612 throughe his false treachery e."

He thinks
her dead,

616

this King liued in great sorrow
both euening & morrow

till that hee were brought to ground,
he liued thus many a yeere
wrfch mourning & with, euill cheere,

his sorrowes lasted long :

and lives in
sorrow

many year3.

& euer it did him great paine

620 when hee did thinke how Sir Roger was slaine,
& how helped him his hound ;
& of his Queene that was soe Mylde,
how shee went from him great with child ;

624 for woe then did hee sound. 2

grieving
over Sir
Roger's
death

and his
pregnant
Queen's
banishment.

1 Percy marks the thrco la.sfc lines
as separate stanzas, but I add them

to those that precede them.
2 swoon. — F.

102

SIR TRIAMORE.

He mourns

and is sad at
heart.

long time thus lined the ~King
in great sorrow & Mourning,
& oftentime did weepe ;
628 he tooke great thought more & more,
It made his hart verrye sore,
his sighs were sett soe deepe.

[page 219]

Meantime
Triamore
is fourteen,

now of the Kmg wee will bline,
632 & of the Queene let vs begin,
& Sir l Tryamore ;
for when he was 14 yeere old,
there was noe man soe bold
636 durst doe him dishonor 2 ;

strong,
and tall,

and well-
doing.

in euerye time 3 both stout & stronge,
& in stature large & longe,

comlye of hye color ;
640 all that ener he dwelled amonge,
he neuer did none of them wronge,

the more that was his honor.

The King of

Hungary

dies,

leaving only
a daughter,
fair Helen,
of fourteen,

in that time sikerlye
644 dyed the ~King of Hungarye 4

that was of great age I-wiss 5 ;
he had no heire his land to hold
but a daughter was 14 yeers old 6 ;
648 faire [Hellen 7 ] shee named is.

white as a
lily.

shee was as white as lilye 8 flower,
& comely, of gay color,

the fairest of any towne or tower ;

1 her sonne. — Cop.

2 dysshonoure. — Cop.
3 . lymme. — Cop.

4 Hungry. — Cop.

5 The second s is made over an e in
the MS— F.

6 of vij. yerys elde. — Ca.

7 See 1. 775. Hellene, 1. 1587 below.—
F. Her name Helyne ys. — Ca. Elyne.
—Cop.

8 The top of a long s whose bottom is
marked through, is left in the MS. before
the first I. — F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

103

652 shee was well shapen of foote & hand,
peere shee had none in noe land,
shee was soe fresh & soe amorous.

for when her father was dead,
656 great warr began to spread
in that land about ;
then the Ladyes conncell gan her reade,
' gett her a lord her land to lead,
660 to rule the reahne without doubt;
some mightye prince that well might
rule her land with reason & right,
that all men to him might Lout.'

Her land is
invaded ;

her council
tell her to
marry a
lord to
protect her.

664 & when her councell had sayd soe,
for great need shee had therto,

shee graunted them without Lye :
the Lady said, "I will not feare
668 but he [be] prince or princes peere,
& cheefe of all chiualrye."

She consents,

therto shee did consent,
& gaue her Lords commandement
672 a great lusting for to crye ;
& at the Iustine, shold soe bee,
what man that shold win the degree, 1
shold win that Ladye trulye.

676 the day of lusting then was sett,
halfe a yeere without lett,
without any more delay,
because the might haue good space,
680 Lords, knights, dukes, in euerye place,
for to be there that day.

proclaims a
jousting,

the winner
at which
shall win her
too.

The day is
fixed.

1 Fr. degre, a degree, ranke, or place of honour. Cotgrave. — F.

104

SIR TRIAMORE.

The best
lords

prepare to
contend.

Triamore
hears of the
jousting,

and resolves
to go to it,

but he has no
horse or
arms.

Lords, the best in euerye Land,
hard tell of that rydand,
684 & made them readye fall gay ;
of euerye land there was the best, 1
of the States that were honest 2
attyred 3 many a Lady gay.

688 great was that chiualrye

that came that time to Hungarye,

there for to lust with might,
at last Triamore hard tyding
692 that there shold be a lusting ;
thither wold he wend.

if he wist that he might gaine
with all his might, he wold be faine 4
696 that gay Ladye for to win ;

hee had noe horsse nay noe other geere,
Nor noe weapon with him to beare ;
that brake his hart in twaine.

[page 220]

He asks Sir
Bernard to
lend hini
some,

and the
knight tells
him he
knows no-
thing about
it.

Triamore
asks to
be tried.

700 he thought both euen & morrow

where he might some armour borrowe,

therof wold hee be faine
to Sir Barnard then he can wend, 5
704 that he wold armour lend 6

to iust against the knights amaine. 7

then said Sir Barnard, " what hast thou thought ?
pardew ! of iusting thou canst nought !
708 for yee bee not able wepon to weld."
" Sir," said Triamore, " what wott yee
of what strenght that I bee
till I haue assay d in feeld ? "

1 bestee. — Cop.

2 moost honasty.-

-Cop.
3 dressed herself : parallel to 1. 684.
States may mean " nobles." — F.

4 He wolde purvey hym fulle fayne.
-Ca.

5 mene. — Cop.

6 lene. — Cop. 7 of mayne. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

105

712 then S/r Barnard that was full liend,
said, " Triamor, if thow wilt wend,

thou shalt lacke noe weed ;
I will lend thee all my geere,
716 horsse & harneis, sheild & spere,
thou art nothing 1 to dread ;

Sir Bernard
then prom-
ises to lend

him horse
and arms,

" alsoe thither with thee will I ryde,
& euer nye be by thy side
720 to helpe thee if thou haue need ;
all things that thow wilt haue,
gold & siluer, if thow wilt craue,
thy Iourney for to speed."

go with him,

and provide
him money.

724 then was Triamore glad & light,

& thanked Barnard wt'th all his might

of his great proferinge.
that day the lusting shold bee,
728 Triamore sett him on his knee
& asked his mother blessinge.

at home shee wold haue kept him faine ;
but all her labor was in vaine,
732 there might be noe letting,
shee saw it wold noe better bee,
her blessing shee gaue him verelye
w[i]th full sore weepinge.

On the day
of the joust,

Triamore
asks his
mother's
blessing,

anil she gives
it him
sorrowfully.

736 & when it was on the Morrow day,
Triamore was in good array,

armed & well dight ;
when he was sett on his steed,
740 he was a man both 2 lenght & bread, 3
& goodlye in mans sight.

In the

morning,

Triamore

1 nothenge. — Cop.

in.

-Cop.

3 brede. — Cop.

106

SIK TRIAMORE.

starts ■with
Sir Bernard.

then Triamore to the feeld can ryde,
& Sir Barnard by his side ;
744 they were Iocund & light ;
there was none in all the feild
that was more seemlye vnder sheild ;
he rode full like a knight.

Queen Helen
of Hungary
looks from a
turret

on the gay
scene of

748 then was the faire Lady sett
full hye vppon a turrett, 1
for to behold that play ;
there was many a seemlye K.night,
752 princes, Lords, & dukes of Might,
themselues for to assay,

helmed
knights.

Triamore

with helme on theire heads bright
that all the feelds shone with light,
756 they were soe stout & gay :
then Str triamore & Sir Barnard
the pressed them into the feeld forward, 2
there durst noe man say nay.

happens to
choose his
father, King
Arradas's
side.

760 there was much price 3 & pride

when eue?ye man to other can ryde,

& lords of great renowne ;
it beffell triamore that tyde
764 for to be on his fathers side,
the King of Arragon.

A big Lom-
bard lord
rides forth ;

Triamore
throws him,

the first that rode forth certainlye
was a great Lord of Lumbardye,
768 a wonderfull bold Barron.
Triamor rode him againe :
for all that lord had Might & maine,
the child bare him downe.

[page 221]

Hyo up in a garett. — Ca.

2 warde. — Cop.

prees. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

107

772 l then cryed Sir Barnard with honor,

"A TRIAMOR, a TRIAMORE ! "

for men shold him ken.
Mayd Hellen 2 that was soe mild,
776 more shee beheld triamore the child
then all the other men.

and Sir
Bernard
shouts "A
Tnmnore"
to make him
known.
Queen Helen
views him
with favour.

then the ~Kings sonne of Nauarrne 3
wold not his body warne 4 ;
'80 he pricked forth on the plaine.
then young Triamore that was stout,
turned himselfe round about,
& fast rode him againe ;

The Prince
of Navarne

rides out ;
Triamore

charges him ;

784 soe neither of them were to ground cast, 5
they sate soe wonderous fast,

like men of much might,
then came forth a Bachelour, 6
"88 a prince proud without peere ;

Sir lames, forsooth, he hight ;

neither is
thrown.

Sir James of
Almaigne

he was the Emperours sonne of Almaigne 7 ;
he rode Sir triamore 8 againe,
792 with hard strenght to fight.

Sir lames had such a stroake indeed
that he was tumbled from his steed ;
then failed all his might.
796 there men might see swords brast,
helmes ne sheilds might not last;
& thus it dured till night ;

next charge3
Triamore,

and is un-
horsed.

The joust
lasts

till night.

1 Ca. puts this stanza after the next.
-F.

2 Elyne. — Cop.

8 Armony. — Ca. Nauerne. — Cop.
4 A.-S. wamian, to take care of, beware.
-F.

5 Ca. makes Triamore bear him down,
and transfers this to Sir James in
the nest stanza. — F.

6 batchelere. — Cop.

7 Almaine. — Cop.

8 ? MS. Triamoir.— F.

108

SIR TRIAMORE.

Next day,

but when the sun drew neere l west,
800 and all the Lords went to rerst,
[Not so the maide Elyne. 2 ]
the Knights attired them in good arraye,
on steeds great, with, trappers 3 gaye,
before the sun can 4 shine ;

it begins
again,

and the
knights
charge
fiercely.

804 then to the feeld the pricked prest,
& euerje man thought himselfe best
[As the mayden faire they paste. 2 ]
then they feirclye ran together,
great speres in peeces did shimmer, 5

808

their timber might not last.

King

Arradas

is thrown by
his son
Triamore,

& at that time there did run 6
the King Arradas of Arragon :

his sonne Triiamore mett him in that tyde,
812 & gaue his father such a rebound

that harse & man fell to the ground, 7
soe stoutly e gan he ryde.

who also
vanquishes
Sir James.

then the next Knight that hee mett
816 was Sir lames ; & such a stroake him sett
vpon the sheild ther on the plaine
that the blood brast out at his nose & eares,
his steed vnto the ground him beares ;
820 then was Sir Barnard fame.

Queen Helen
falls in love
with
Triamore.

that Maid of great honor

sett her loue on younge triamore

that fought alwayes as a feirce 8 Lyon.

1 ferre. — Cop.

2 This line is from Copland's text. — H.

3 The trappings of horses. Halliwell.
— E.

4 gan. — Cop.

6 shyuer. — Cop.

6 dyde ronne. — Cop.

7 Tryamore must he supposed to have
changed since the first day, when he

was on his father's side: see 1. 763. In
1. 920, Arradas is accused of killing the
Emperor's son, whom Triamore slays
(1. 860-1), but he (Arradas) declares he
had nothing to do with it, 1. 974-9. He
only rescues his son from the Emperor's
men, 1. 866-7.— E.
8 fyers. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

109

824 speres that day many were spent,

& with swords there was many a stripe lent,
till the[re] failed light of the sunn.

on the Morrow all they were faine
828 for to come into the feild againe
with great spere & sheild.
then the Duke of Sinille, Sir Phylar, 1
that was a doughtye knight in euerye warr,
832 he rode first into the feild ;

Next day

the Duke of
Seville

836

& Triamore tooke his spere,
against the Duke he can it beare,

& smote him in the sheild ;
a-sunder in 2 peeces it went ;
& then many a louelye Lady gent,

full well they him beheld.

is charged
by Triamore,

and his

shield split.

840

844

then came forth a K.night that hight Terrey, sirTerrey

hee was a great Lord of Surrey, 2 Cpa s e 2 -^ of Syria

he thought Noble Teiamore to assayle ; charges

& Triamore rode to him blithe Triamore,
in all the strenght that he might driue,

he thought he wold not fayle ;

he smote him soe in that stond
that horsse & man fell to the ground, 3
soe sore his stroke he sett.

and gets
thrown.

848 then durst noe man att triamore [ride, 4 ]
for fortune held all on his side
all those dayes 3. 5

No one else
will try
Triamore ;

1 Syselle, sir Sywere.-
sir Fylar. — Cop.

-Ca. Cycyll,

2 The dewke of Lythyr, sir Tyrre.
-Ca.

. . . the dewke, bothe hors and man,
Turnyd toppe ovyr tayle. — Ca.
to Tryamoure ryde. — Cop.
The Cambridge text makes Triamore

110

SIR TRIAMORE.

but Sir
James

lies in wait
for him,

Sir lames, soime vnto the Emperour,
852 had enuye to Sir Triamore,

and laid wait l for him priuilye.

and runs
him through
the thigh,

att the last Triamore came ryding bye.
Sir lames said, " Triamore ! thou shalt dye,
856 for thou hast done me shame."
he rode to Triamore with a spere,
& thorrow 2 the thigh he can him beare ;
he had almost him slaine.

for which
Triamore
kills him,

but is beset
by his men.

860 but Tryamore hitt him in 3 the head
that he fell downe starke dead.

then was all his men woe ;
then wold they haue slaine Tryamore
864 without he bad had great succour 4 ;
they purposed to doe soe.

Arradas

rescues

Triamore,

and Sir
Bernard

takes him
home.

His mother

sends for a

doctor.

The jousting

knights

ride to

Queen Helen

with that came TLing Arradas 5 then,
& reschued Tryamore with all his men,
868 that stood in great doubt,
then Sir Barnard was full woe
that Tryamore was hurt soe ;

then to his owne house he him brought.

872 but when the Mother saw her sonns wound,
shee fell downe for sorrow to the ground,

& after a Leeche shee sent.
of 6 this, all the Lords that were 7 Iustinge,
876 to the pallace 8 made highinge, 9
& to that Ladye went.

serve " the dewke of Aymere" as he served
Terrey, and shiver the shield and spear of
James of Almayne, p. 28-9 Percy Soe.
ed.— P.

1 layde wayte. — Cop.

2 throughe. — Cop.

3 hvtt hym on. — Cop.

4 the greter socoure. — Cop.

5 Arragus. — Cop.

6 on or after. — F.

7 was at. — Cop.

8 pallayes. — Cop.
hyenge. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

Ill

truly, as the story sayes,
the x pricked forth to the pallace
880 the Ladyes will to heare,
Bachelours & knights prest,
that shee might choose of them the best
w7wch to her faynest were.

to hear

whom she
will choose.

884 the Ladye beheld all that fayre Meanye,
but Tryamore shee cold not see :

tho chaunged all her cheere,
then 2 shee sayd " Lore?, where is hee 3
888 that euerye day wan the degree ?
I chuse him to my peere. 4 "

She chooses
Triamore.
Where is he?

al about 5 the Tryamore sought ;
he was ryddn home ; the found him nought ;
892 then was that Ladye woe.

the ~Knights were afore her brought,
& of respite shee them besought,
a yeare & noe more :

896 shee said, " Lords, soe god me saue !
he that wan me, he shall me haue ;

ye wot well that my cry was soe."
the all consented her vntill,
900 for shee 6 said Nothing ill,
the said it shold be soe.

He can't be
found,

so Helen
asks for a
year's delay,

for when they had all sayd,
then answered that fayre Mayd,
904 " I will haue none but Tryamore."
then all the Lords that were present
tooke their Leaue, & home went ;
there wan the litle honor.

she will have
none but
Triamore.

1 they. — Cop.

2 Tho.— Cop.

3 he.— Cop.

4 fere. — Cop.

5 All aboute. — Cop.

6 had inserted, — Cop.

112

SIE TRIAMOltE.

Sir James's
men carry
his corpse

to his father,
the Emperor,

908 Sir lames men were nothing faine
because their Master, he was slaine,

That was soe stout in stowre ;
in chaire his body the Layd,
912 & led him home, as I haue sayd,
vnto his father the Emperour ;

[page 223]

and tell him

that

Triamore

& when that hee his sonne gan see,
a sorrye man then was hee,
916 & asked ' who had done that dishonor * ? '
the sayd " wee [ne] wott who it is I-wisse, 2
but Sir Tryamore he named is,
soe the called him 3 in the crye ;

and Arradas

killed his
son.

The Emperor

vows

revenge,

summons a
host,

and invades
Arragon.

920 " the Kmg of Arragon alsoe,
he helped thy 4 sonne to sloe,

with all his company e."
they said, " the be good warryoirs ;
924 they byte 5 vs with sharpe showers 6
with great villanye. 7 "

" Alas ! " said the Emperour,
" till I be reuenged on that tray tour,
928 now shall I neuer cease !

the shall haue many a sharpe shower,
both the King & Tryamore,
they shall neuer haue peace ! "

932 the Emperour sayd the shold repent ;
& after great companye he sent

of princes bold in presse,
Dukes, Earles, & lords of price. 8
936 with a great armye, the Duke sayes,
the yeed to Arragon without lesse.

1 dysshonour. — Cop.

2 has ywys. — Cop.

3 called the him. — Cop.

4 MS. the.— F.

5 bete. — Cop.

6 shoutes. — Cop.

7 vilany. — Cop.

8 pryse. — Cop.

SIR TIUAMOKE.

113

King Arradas * was a-dread 2
for the Emperour such power had,
940 that hattell hee wold him bid 3 ;
he saw his land nye oue>--gon,
& to a castle hee fledd anon,
& victualls * it for dread.

Arradas

takes refuge
in his castle,

944 6 the Emperour was bold & stout,
& beseeged the castle about ;

his 6 banner he began to spread,
& arrayd his host full well & wisely e,
948 with wepons strong & mightye

he thought to make them dread.

where the
Emperor
besieges him,

the Emperour was bold & stout,
& beseeged the castle about,
952 & his banner he gan to spread ;
he gaue assault 7 to the hold.
Kmg Arraclas was stout & bold,
ordayned him full well. 8

and assaults

it.

Arradas

956 with gunes & great stones round

were throwne downe to the ground,

& on the men were cast ;
they brake many backes & bones,
960 that they fought euerye[day 9 ] ones
while 7 weekes did last.

fires and
hurls stonea

on the
besiegers.

After seven
weeks,

964

the Emperour was hurt ill therfore,
his men were hurt sore,
all his Ioy was past.

1 Aragus. — Cop.

2 a-dradde. — Cop.

3 bydde. — Cop.

4 vytaylled. — Cop. vetaylyd. — Ca.

5 This stanza, which seems super-
fluous, is not in the Cambridge text.
— F.

VOL. II.

6 A letter like t, seemingly blotched
out, precedes his in the MS. — F.

7 assalte. — Cop.

9 And defendyd hym full faste.— Ca.
And ordered it full welle. Rawlinsou
MS. (Percy Soc, p. 62).— F.

9 day.— Cop.

114

SIR TRIAMORE.

Arradas TLing Arradas thought fall longe

that hee was beseeged soe stronge,
with, soe much might & maine :

sends to 968 2 Lords forth a Message he sent,

the Emperor & straight to the Emperour the ' went,

soe when they cold him see,
of peace 2 they can him pray, 3
972 to take truce 4 till a certaine day.

the kneeled downe on their knee,

to say that
he did not
slay his son ,

and to
propose a
settlement
of their
quarrel by
single
combat ;

if the
Emperor's
knight wins

Arradas will
give in ;

if Arradas's
knight wins,

& said, " our 'King sendeth word to thee
that he neue?* jour sonne did slay, 5
976 soe he wold quitt him faine ;
he was not then present,
nor did noe wise 6 consent
that jour sonne was slaine.
980 That [he] will proue, if you will soe,
jour selfe and he betweene you tow,
if you will it sayne ;

" or else take jour selfe a K.night,
984 & he will gett another to fight
on a certaine day :
if that jour ~Knight hap soe
ours for to discomfort or sloe,
988 as by fortune itt may,

our ~King then will doe jour will,
be att yowr bidding lowde & still
without more delay ;

992 " & alsoe if it you betyde

that jour 'knight on jour sjde
be slaine by Mischance,

[page 224

1 y y . — Cop. " peas.— Cop.

3 Only the long part of the y is in the
MS.— F.

4 treues.— Cop.

5 sle. — Cop.

6 noe wise did. — Cop.

8IK TKIAMOHE.

115

096

My Lord shall make jour warr to cease, 1
[and we shall after be at pease, 2 ]
w/thout any distance. 3 "

the Emperor
shall stop
his siege.

1000

the Emperour said 4 without fayle
" sett a day of Battell

by assent of the Kmg of france ; "
for he had a great Campiowne, 5
in euerye realme he wan 6 renowne ;

soe the Emperour ceased his distance.

The

Emperor

agrees,

as he has a

famous

champion.

when peace was made, & truce came, 7
1 004 then Kmg Arradas were 8 a Ioyfull man,
& trusted vnto Tryamore.

Soe after him he went w/thout fayle,

for to doe the great battelle
1008 to his helpe & succour.

Arradas

sends for
Triamore
to fight for
him,

1012

his Messengers were come & gone,
ty dings of him hard 9 the none.

the Kmg Arradas thought him long,
" & he be dead, I may say alas !
who shall then fight with Marradais

that is soe stout & stronsre ? "

but can hear
no tidings of
him,

when Tryamore was whole l0 & sound,
1016 & well healed of his wound,
ho busked him for to fare ;

Triamore
gets well,

1 sease. — Cop.

2 This line is from Copland's text. — H.
II ( prcyeth yow that ye wyll cese,
And let owre londys be in pees. — Ca.

3 " Dystaunce, supra in Debate vel
Dyscorde (discidia)." Promptorium.
Fr. distance, difference. Cotgrave. — F.

4 We keep the said of the MS., though

it is not wanted, and the Cambridge text
has not got it. — F.

5 Champion. MS. campanye. — F.
Company. — Cop.

6 the.— Cop.

' fcreues tane. — Cop.

8 was. — Cop.

9 herde.— Cop. •• hole.— Cop.

i 2

116

SIR TRIAMORE.

and asks his
mother who
his father is.

he sayd, "mother," with mild cheere,
" & I wist what my father were,
1020 the lesse were my care."

His mother
will not tell
him till he
marries.

" sonne,"

so he starts
for Arragon.

On his way

he sets his
greyhounds
at a hart,

and is
attacked by
fourteen
foresters.

Triamore
tries to
pacify them,

offers them
all hia
money.

1024

1028

1032

shee said, " thou shalt witt ;
when l thou hast Marryed that Ladye sweet,

thy father thou shalt ken."
" mother," he said, "if you will [soe, 2 ]
haue good clay, for now I goe

to doe my Masteryes if I can. 3 "

then rode he ouer dale & downe
vntill he came to Arragon,

ouer many a weary way.
aduentures many him befell,
& all he scaped full well,

in all his great Iourney.

he saw many a wild beast
both in heath & in forrest ;

he had good grey-hounds 3 ;
then to a hart he let them run
till 14 fosters spyed him soone,

soe threatened him greatlye ;

they yeede to him with weapons on euerye side ;
it was noe boote to bid them byde ;

Tryamore was loth to flye,
& said vnto them, " Lortfa, I you pray,
lett me in peace wend my way
1044 to seeke my grayhounds 3."

then said Tryamore as in this time,
" gold & siluer, take all mine

if 4 that I haue tresspassed ought,"

1036

1040

1 Whan. — Cop.

2 soo. — Ca.

3 and speke wyth my leminan.-
* Of.— Cop.

-Ca.

SIR TRIAMORE.

117

1048 The said, "wee will meete with, thy anon, [page 225]
there shall noe gold borrow thee soone, 1

but in prison thou shalt be brought,
Such is the law of the ground ; 2
1052 Whosoeuer therin may be found,
other way goe the nought."

then Sir Tryamore was full woe
t hat to prison he shold goe;
1056 hee thought the flesh to deare bought,
there was no more to say,
the fosters att him gan lay
with strokes sterne and stout.

1060 there Tryamore with them fought ;
some to the ground be brought ;

he made them lowe to looke ;
some of them fast gan pray,
1064 the other fled fast away

with wounds wyde that they sought. 3

Tryamore sought & found 4 his gray-hounds ;
he hear[k]ned to their yerning 5 sounds,
1068 & thought not for to leaue them soe.
at last he came to a water side ;
there he saw the beast abyde

that had slaine 2 of his grayhounds ;

1072 the 3^ full sore troubled the hind,
& he hurt him with his trinde 6 ;

then was Tryamore woe.
if the battaile had lasted a while,
1076 the hart wold the hound beguile, 7
& take his life for euermore.

They refill-
it,

and threaten
to prison
him.

Triamore

is attacked
by the

foresters,

and soon

discomfits

them,

but finds
two of his
greyhounds

slain by a
hart,

and the other
wounded.

1 ? MS. : it may be meant for frome ;
but one stroke of the m is missing. — F.

2 Ca. has "ye must lese yowre ryght
honde."— F.

3 ? tooke.— F.

4 rod and sought. — Cop.

5 ? running. — F.

8 One stroke of the n is wanting in the
MS. Ca. has Tyndys, branches of the
antlers. — F.

7 begyle. — Cop.

118

SIR TRIAMORE.

Triamore

kills the
deer,

blows his
horn,

and king
Arradas
hears it.

Tryamore smote att the deere,
and 1 to the hart went the spere ;
1080 then his home he blew full sore,
the King Lay there beside
at Mannowr 2 that same tide ;
he hard a home blowe :

A forester
runs in,

1084 they had great wonder in hall,
both Knights, Squiers, 3 & all,

for noe man cold it know.
With that ran in a foster
1088 into the hall with euill cheere,
& was full sorry, I trow.

tells the king
that his
keepers have
been slain
by the
knight

the King of tydings gan him fraine ;
he answered, " Sir King, jour Keepers be slaine,
1092 and lye dead on a rowe.

there came a knight that was mightye,
he let 3 grayhonnds that were wightye,
& laid my fellowes full lowe : "

that blew
the horn.

Arradas says
he wants
such a man..

1096 he sayd, it was full true

that the same that the home blew

that all this sorrow hath wrought.
King Arradas said then,
1100 " I haue great need of such of a man ;
god hath him hither brought."

and tells
three knights
to fetch him.

the King commanded Knights 3,
he said, " goe 4 feitch yond gentleman to me
1104 that is now at his play ;

looke noe ill words with him yee breake,
but pray him with me for to speake ;
I trow he will not say nay."

1 One stroke of the n missing in the
MS.— F.

2 maner. — Cop.

3 Squiers, knights. — Cop.

4 MS. god.— F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

119

1108 Euerye knight his steed hent,

& lightlye to the wood l the went

to seeke Tryamore that child,
the found him by a water side
1112 where he brake the beast 2 that tyde,
that hart that was soe wylde.

the said, " Sir ! god be at yowr game! "
he answered them euen the same ;
1116 then was he frayd of guile.

" S<r Knight ! " they said, " is itt jour will
to come & speake our Kmg vntill

with word[e]s meeke & mylde ? " [page 226]

1120 Tryamore asked shortlye, 3

" what hight joicr King, tell yee mee,

that is lord 4 of this land ? "
" this Laud hight Arragon,
1124 & our King, Arradas, w/th crowne;
his place his heire att hand."

The knights

find
Triamore,

6alute him,

and ask if he
will come to
their king,

Arradas of
Arragon.

Tryamore went vnto the K.[ing } 1
& he was glad of his cominge,
1128 he knew him att first sight ;

the King tooke him by the hand,
& said, "welcome into this land ! "
& asked 5 him what he hight.

1132 " Sir, my name is Tryamore ;
once you helpt me in a stowre

as a noble man of might ;
& now I am here in thy Land ;
1 136 soe was I neuer erst, as I vnderstand,
by god full of might."

Triamore
comes,

Arradas

welcomes

him,

and

Triamore
tells him
who he is.

1 wodde. — Cop.

2 The top of some letter over the a is
marked out in the MS. brake means
"cut up."— F.

3 shortely.— Cop.

4 There is a round blot like an u after
the r in the MS.— F.

5 axet. — Cop.

120

SIR TRIAMORE.

Arradas
is very glad,

and tells
Triamore

of the day
set for the
fight with the
Emperor's
champion.

when the ~King wist it was hee,
his hart reioced greatlye ;
1140 3 times he did downe fall,

& [said] " Tryamore, welcome to me !
great sorrowe & care I haue had x for thee ; "
and he told him al ;

1144 " with the Emperour I * tooke a day
[to] defend me if that I may ;

to Iesu I will call ;
for I neuer his sonne slew ;
1148 god he knoweth I speake hut true,
& helpe me I trust he shall ! "

Triamore
agrees to
fight for
Arradas,

then said Tryamore thoe, ["I am fulle woe 3 ]
that you for me haue beene greeued soe,
1152 if I might it amend ;
& att the day of battell
I trust to proue 4 my might as 5 well,
if god will grace me send."

of which the
latter is
glad.

1156 then was ~King Arradas very glad,
and of Marradas was not adread :

when he to the batteile shold wend,
he ioyed 6 that he shold well speed,
1 1 60 for Tryamore was warry 7 at neede
against his enemye to defend.

On the day

fixed, the
Emperor

there Tryamore dwelled with the ~King
many a weeke without lettinge ;
1164 he lacked right nought.

& when the day of battayle was came,
the Emperour with his men hasted full soone,
& manye wonder thought ;

1 Cop. omits had. — H.

2 MS. he.— F. 3 From Ca.-
• prome, in the MS.— F.

5 This word is blotted in the MS.— F.

6 joyed. — Cop.

7 ware. — Cop.

SIR TRIAMORE.

121

1168 he brought thither both King & Knight ;
& Marradas, that was of might,

to batteille he him brought,
there was many a seemelye man,
1172 moe then I tell you can ;

of them all he ne wrought.

both pa?-tyes that ilke day
into the feeld tooke the way,
1176 they were already i dight.

the King there kissed Tryamore,
& sayd, " I make thee mine [heyre 2 ] this hower,
& dubb thee a knight."

1 180 " Sir," said Tryamore, " take no dread ;
I trust Iesus will me speede,

for you be in the right ;
therfore through gods grace
1 184 I will fight for you in this place

with the helpe of our Lords might ! "

brings his
champion,
Marradas ;

the King
brings

Triamore,

who trusts
in Christ's
help.

both partyes were full swore
to hold the promise that was made before ;
1188 to Iesus can hee 3 call.

Sir Tryamore & Sir Marradas
both well armed was
amonge the Lords all ;

Eoth parties
swear to
abide by the
result.

1 192 eche of them were sett on steede ;
all men of Tryamore had dreede,

that was soe hind in all. 4
Marradas was stifie & sure, 5
1196 their 6 might noe man his stroake endure,
But that he made them fall.

Triamore

and

Marradas

[page 227]

' al redy. — Cop.

2 heyre. — Cop.

3 they. — Cop.

4 Ther was none so hynde in hallo. — Ca.

5 so styff in stoure. — Ca.

6 then.— Ca.

122

SIR TRIAMORE.

charge,

"break their
spears and
Bhields,

and fight
marvel-
lously.

Triamore
kills Mar-
radas's horse,

and then
offers him
his own.

Marradas
refuses it.

Both alight

then rode they together 1 full right ;
with sharpe speres & swords bright
1200 they smote together sore ;

the spent speres & brake sheelds,
the busied 2 fowle in middest the feelds,
either fomed as doth a bore.

1204 all the 3 wondred that beheld
how the fought in the feeld ;

there was but a liffe. 4
Marradas fared fyer 5 wood
1208 because Tryamore soe long stood ;
sore gan hee smite.
S/r Tryamore fay led of Marradas,
that sword lighted vpon his horsse,
1212 the sword to ground gan light.

Marradas said, " it is great shame
on a steed to wreake his game !

thou sholdest rather smite mee ! "
1216 Tryamore swore, "by gods might
I had leuer it had on thee liarht !

then I wold not be sorye 6 ;

" but here I giue thee steede mine

1220 because I haue slaine thine ;
by my will it shalbe soe."
Marradas sayd, " I will [him] nought
till I haue him with stroakes bought,"

1224 [and won him from my foe. 7 ]

& Tryamore lighted from his horsse,
& to Marradas straight he goes,
for both on foote they did light.

1 the logger. — Cop.

2 powsed. — Cop.

3 they. — Cop.

4 ? a life to be lost.— F. lyte (little).
-Cop.

5 fare. — Cop.

6 sore. — Cop.

7 ? ; a line is wanting in the MS. Cop.
has "And wonne hym here in fyght."
— F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

123

1228 Sir Tiyamore spared him nought,
[But evyr in his hert he thoght ! ]
"this day was I made a Knight ! "

& thought that hee himselfe wold be slaine soone,
1232 " or else of him I will win my shoone 2
throughe gods might."
the laid eche at other with, good will
with sharpe swords made of Steele ;
1236 that saw 3 many a knight.

great wonder it was to behold

the stroakes that was betwixt them soe bold ;

all men might it see.
1240 the were weary, & had soe greatlye bled;
Marradas was sore adread,

he fainted then greatlye ;

and fight on
foot

fiercely.

Marradas

grows faint.

& that Tryamore lightlye beheld,
1244 & fought feerclye in the feeld ;
he stroke Marradas soe sore

that the sword through the body ran.

then was the Emperour a sorry man ;
1248 he made thenn peace for ener-more ;

Triamore
kills him.

The
Emperor

he kissed the Kmg, & was his freind,
& tooke his leauee homewards to wend ;
noe longer there dwell wold hee.
1252 then Kmg Arradas & Tryamore

went to the palace wt'th great honor,

into that rych citye.
there was ioy without care,
1256 & all they had great welfare,
there might no better bee ;

kisses
Arradas,

and goes
home.

Arradas and

Triamore

return

to the city,

1 From Ca. — F. euer in hys herte he thought. — Cop.

2 See p. 77, 1. 504

sauce. — Cop.

124

SIR TRIAMORE.

hunt, ride,
and enjoy
themselves.

Arradas
offers to
make

Triamore his
heir,

but Triamore
declines, and

asks only a
steed;

he means to
do adven-
tures.

Arradas
gives him

money

and a fearless
steed,

they hunted & rode many a where,
full great pleasure they had there.
12C0 among the knights of price

the K.ing profered him full fayre,
& sayd, " Tryamore, He make thee mine heyre,
for thou art strong & wise."

1264 Sir Tryamore said, " Sir, trulye
into other countryes goe will I ;

I desire of you but a steed,
& to other lands will I goe
1268 some great aduentures for to doe,
thus will I my liffe lead."
the Kmg was verry sorry tho ;
when that hee wold from him goe,
1272 he gaue him a sure weede, 1

& plenty of siluer & gold,
& a steed as hee wold,
that nothing wold feare.
1276 hee tooke his leaue of the King,

And mourned at his departing, [page 228]

then hasted he him there ;

and promises
him all

his realm.

Triamore

rides to
Hungary.

the K»(j sayd, " Try amor ! that 2 is mine,
1280 when thou list it shall be thine,

all my kingdome lesse & more."

Now is Tryamore forth goe ;

Lords & ladyes were full woe, 3
1284 euerye man loued him there.

Tryamore rode in hast trulye
into the Land of Hungarye,
aduentures for to seeke. 4

1 steede is marked out in the MS.

2 whatever, all that. — F.

3 for him were woe. — Cop.

4 The Cambridge text sends him
generally everywhere before going to
Hungary. — F.

SIR TIUAMORE.

125

1288 betweene 2 mountaines, the sooth to say,
he rode forth on his way ;
w/'th a palmer he did meete ;

On his road
a palmer

he asked almes for gods sake,
1292 & Tryamore him not forgate,

he gaue him with words sweete.
the palmer said, " turne yee againe,
or else I feare you wilbe slaine ;
1296 you may not passe but you be beat."

warns him
to turn back

Tryamore asked "why soe ? "
"Sir," he said, "there be brethren towe
that on the mountaine dwells."
1300 " faith," said Tryamore, " if there be no more,
I trust in god that way to goe,

if this be true that thou tells."
he bade the palmer good day,
1304 & rode forth on his way
ouer heath & feelds ;

for fear of
two brothers
there.

Triamore
rides on,

the palmer prayed to him full fast,
Tryamore was not agast,
1308 he blew his home full shrill,
he had not rydden but a while,
not the Mountenance of a mile,
2 knights he saw on a hill :

and soon
meets

two knights,

1312 the one of them to him gan ryde,
they other still gan abyde

a litle there beside.
& when the did Tryamore spye,
1316 the said, " turne thee tray tor, 1 or thou shalt dye,
therfore stand & abyde ! "

who order
him to go
back.

' traytor turne. — Cop.

126

SIR TRIAMOKE.

One charges
him,

the other

either againe other l gan ryd fast,
theire strokes mad their speres to brast,
1320 & made them wounds full wyde.

the other "knight that honed 2 soe,
wondred that Tryamore dared soe :
he rode to them that tyde

separates
them,

asks

Triamore
his name,

1324 & departed them in twaine,

& to speake fayre he began to frame

wt'th words that sounded well :
to Tryamore he 3 sayd anon,
1328 "a doughtyer K^night I neuer saw none ! 4
thy name that thou vs tell."
Tryamore said, " first will I wett
why that you doe keepe this street,
1332 & where that you doe dwell."

and says
that their
brother
Marradas

was slain by

one

Triamore,

1336

the said, " wee had a brother hight Marradas,
with the Emperour forsooth he was,

a stronge man well I-know. 5
in Arragon, before the Emperour,
a knight called S/r Tryamore

in battel there him slew 6 ;

and their
elder brother
Burlong

" & alsoe wee say another,
1340 Burlong 7 our elder brother,
as a man of much might ;
he hath beseeged soothlye
the Kings daughter of Hungarte ;
1344 to wed her he hath height ;

'■ other than. — Cop. tyd has a tag at
the end. — F.

2 hoved, i.e. hoVered on the hill, qu. —
P. ltovid is common in the sense of
halted. — F.

3 they. — Cop.

4 so doughty a knight knowo 1 none.
—Cop.

5 y-nough (enough). — Ca.

6 There is something like another r
before the w in the MS. — F.

7 Burlonde. — Ca.

SIR TRIAMORE.

127

1.348

" & soe well liee hath sped
that hee shall that Lady wedd

but sliee may find a Knight
that Burlongb ouercome may ;
to that they haue tooke a day,

wage battel & fight ;

is to wed
Queen Helen
of Hungary

Tin less she
can find a
knight to
beat him,

" for that same Tryamore
1352 loued that Ladye paramoure,
as it is before told ;
if he will to Hungarye,
needs must he come vs by ;
1356 to meete with him wee wold."

and she is

Triamore's

love.

[page 229]

They'd like
to catch him.

1360

Tryamore said, " I say not nay,
but my name I will tell this day,

in faith I will not Laine :
thinke jour Iourney well besett,
for with Tryamore you haue mett

that jour brother hath slaine."

Triamorc
says

"here he is. !

" welcome ! " the said, " Tryamore !

1364 his death shalt thou repent sore ;
thy sorrow shall begin,
yeeld thee to vs anon,
for thou shalt not from vs gone

1368 by noe manner of gin. 1 "

They call on
him to yield.

1372

the smote feircly att him tho,
& Tryamore against them 2

without more delay.
Si'r Tryamore proued him full prest,
he brake their spere on their brest,

hee had such assay ;

He fights
them,

1 gynne. — Cop. wile. — F.

l -js

SIR TRIAMORE.

they split
his shield
and kill his
horse,

but he slays
one of them.

his sheeld was broken in peeces 3,
1376 bis borsse was smitten on bis knee,
soe bard att bim the tbrust. 1
Sir Tryamore was tben rigbt wood,
& slew tbe one tbere as be stood
1380 wz'tb bis sword full prest.

The other

rides at him,

but Tria-
more kills
him too.

that otber rode bis way,
bis hart was in great affray,

yet he turned againe that tide, —
1384 when Tryamore had slainc his brother,
a sorry man then was the other, —

& straight againe to him did rydde ;

then they 2 sore foughte
1388 that the other to the ground was brought
then were the both slaine.

Helen
wonders
where
Triamore is.

The day to
win her is
come ;

tho the Ladye on Tryamore thought,
for of him shee knew right nought,
1392 shee wist not what to say.

the day was come that was sett,
the Lords assembled without lett,
all in good array.

Burlong
calls for her
knight.

She has
none.

1396 Burlonge was redye dight,

he bade the Lady send the 'Knight.

shee answered "Ine may : "
for in that castle shee had hight
1400 to keepe her with all her might,
as the story doth say.

the said, " if Tryamore be aliue,
hither 2 will hee come blithe ;
1404 god send vs good grace to speed ! "

thrast. — Cop.

2 MS. either.— F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

129

w/th that came in Sir Tryamore
in the thickest of that stower,
into the feild without dread.

1408 he asked 'what all that did meanc.'

the people shewed that a battel there shold beenc

for the loue of that Ladye.
he saw Burlong on his steede,
1412 & straight to him he yeede ;
that Ladye challengeth hee.

But just

then

Triamore

rides into
the field,

goes straight
to Burloi g,

Burlong asked him if he wold fight.
Tryamore said, " with, all [my] might
1416 to slay thee, or thon me."
anon the made them readye,
& none there knew him sikerlye,
the wondred what he shold bee.

and says "he'll

figlit him.

1420 high on a tower stood that good Ladye ;
shee knew not what Knight verelye

that with Burlong did fight,
fast shee asked of her men
1424 ' if ^at Knight they cold ken
that to battell was clight ;

Helen
docs not
know him ;

' a griffon he beareth all of blew.' l
a herald of armes soone him 2 knew,
1428 & said anon-right,

" Madame ! god hath sent you succor ;
for yonder is Tryamore

That With Burlong will fight."

1432 to Iesus gan the Ladye pray

for to speed him on his Iourney
that hee about yeed.

1 1 ngc 230]

but a herald
recognises
his crest,

and tells her
it is
Triamore.

She prays for
his success.

1 A kreste he boryth in blewe. — Ca.
VOL. TT. K

2 Syr Barnarde.— Ca,

130

SIR TRIAMORE.

Triaruore
and Burlong
fight

for a long
while,

till Triamore
loses his
sword.

then those "Knights ran together,
1436 the speres in peeces gan shiner,
the fonght full sore indeed ;

there was noe man in the feild tho
who shold hane the better of them tow,
1440 soe mightilye they did them beare.
the Battel lasted wonderous long ;
though Burlong was neuer soe stronge,
there found he his peere.

1444 Tryamore a stroke to him mint, 1
his sword fell downe at that dint

out of his hand him froe.
then was Burlong verry 2 glad,
1448 & the Ladye was verry sad,
& many more full woe.

He asks for

it,

and Burlong

agrees to

give it him

if he'll tell

his name.

Triamore
tells him.

Tryamore asked his sword againe,
but Burlong gan him frame
1452 to know first his name ;

& said, " tell me first what thou hight,
& why thou challengeth the Ladye bright,
then shalt thou haue thy sword againe."

1456 Tryamore sayd, " soe mote I thee,
My name I will tell trulye,
therof I will not doubt ;
men call me Sir Tryamore,
1460 I wan this Ladye in a stowre
among Barrons stout."

Burlong
reproaches
him with
killing
Marradas

then said Burlong, "thou it was
that slew my brother Marradas !
1464 a faire 3 hap thee befell ! "

1 mynt. — Cop. minded, meant, intended. — R

2 wonder. — Cop. 3 ? fowle. — F.

SIR TRIAMORE.

131

S/r Tryamore sayd to hini tho,
" soe haue I done thy Brethren 2
that on the Mountaines did dwell."

1408 Burlong said, " woe may thon bee,
for thon hast slaine my brethren 3 !

sorrow hast thon sought !
thy sword getts thon neuer againe
1472 till I be avenged, & thon slaine ;
now I am well bethought ! "

and his other
brothers,

and refuses
to let him
have his
sword.

S/r Tryamore sayd, " noe force l tho,
thou shalt repent it ere thou goe ;
1476 doe forth ! I dread thee nought !

Burlong to smite was readye bowne,
his feete slipt, 2 & hee fell downe,
& Tryamore right well nought, 3

Burlong
makes ready
to strike ; his
foot slips,
and he falls.

1 480 his sword lightlye he vp hent,
& to Burlonge fast he went ;
for nothing wold he flee ;
& as he wold haue risen againe,
1484 he smote his leggs euen in twaine
hard fast by the knee.

Triamore
gets his
sword again,

cuts big
Burlong off
at the knees,

Tryamore bade him "stand vpright,
& all men may see now in fight
1488 wee beene meete of a size."

Sir Tryamore suffered him
to take another weapon,
as a knight of much prize.

to make him
his equal in
height,

and lets him
get a sword.

1492 Burlong on his stumpes stood
as a man tltat was nye wood,
& fousrht wonderous hard. 4

Burlong
fights well
on his
stumps,

1 matter. — F.

2 his fote schett. — Ca.

3 wylyly wrought. — Ca.

4 wonder faste. — Cop.

k 2

wrought. — Cop.

132

SIR TRIAMORE.

& Sir Tryamore strake stroakes sure,
1496 for lie cold well endure ;

of him hee was not affrayd,

but

Triamore
cuts his head
off,

1500

& vnder his ventale
his head he smote of without fayle ;
with that in peeces his sword brast.

and goes to
his love.

Helen

1504

Now is Burlong slaine,
& Triamore with maine

into the Castle went,
to the Ladye that was full bright ;
& att the gates shee mett the ILnight,

& in her armes shee him hent.

welcomes
him.

The barons
agree to hold
their lands
of him,

Shee said, " welcome sir Tryamore !

1508 for you haue bought my loue full deere,
my hart is on you lent! ' ;
then said all the Barrons bold,
" of him wee will our lands hold ; "

1512 & therto they did assent.

[page 231]

and the
wedding-day
is fixed.

Triamore 1516

sends for his
mother,

there is noe more to say,

but they haue taken a certaine day

that they both shalbe wed.
Sir Tryamore for his mother sent,
a Messenger for her went,

& into the castle he[r] led.

and she
tells him
that King
Arradas is
his father,

Tryamore to his mother gan saine,
1520 " my father I wold know faine,
sith I haue soe well sped."
shee said, " ~K.ing Array das of Arragon,
is thy father, & thou his owne sonne ;
1524 I was his wedded Queene ;

Sill TRIAMORE.

13:

1528

" a leasing was borne nie in hand, 1
& falsely fleamed me out of his land

by a traitor Keene,
Sir Marrockee the hight 2 : he did me woe,
& Sir Rodger my knight he did sloe,

that my guide 3 shold haue beene."

that she was

banished

wrongful^',

through Sir
Marrock.

& when that Tryamore all heard, 4
1532 & how his mother shee had 5 sayd,
letters he made & wrought;

he prayd ~K.inrj Arradas to come him till,

if that it were his will,
153G thus he him besought :

Triamore

writes and

begs

Arradas

1540

' if hee will come into Hungarye
for his Manho od & his Masterye,

& that he wold fayle in nought.'
then was "Kmg Arradas verry glad ;
the Messengers great guifts had

for they tydings that they brought.

to come to
Hungary.

the clay was come that was- sett,
1544 the hords came thither without let,
& ladyes of great pryde ;

then wold they noe longer lett ;

shortlye after 6 they are fett,
1548 with 2 dukes on eueiye side ;

On the
wedding-
day,

1552

they lady to the church the led ;
a Bishopp them together did wed,

in full great hast the hyed.
soone after that weddingo
Sir Tryamore was crowned Kmg,

they wold noe longer abyde.

Queen Helen
is married to
Triamore,

who is then

crowned

king.

1 forced on me. — F.

2 ? the wight.— F.

3 pyder. — Cop.
1 herde. — Cop.

•' lo him. — Cop.

" after forthc.— Cop.

134

SIR TRIAMOEE.

Arradas sees
Margaret,

and asks her
what her
name is.

She says she
was his
qneen, and
Marrock
defamed her.

After dinner

she tells him
all her
history.

the Queene, his mother Margarett,
1556 before the King shee was sett
in a goodlye cheare. 1
King Arradas beheld his Queene,
him thought that hee had her seenc,
15G0 shee was a ladye fayre ;

the King said, " it is jouy will
jouy name me for to tell,

I pray you with words fayre."

1564 " my Lord," sayd [she,] "I was jouy Queene
yo«r steward did me ill 2 teene ;
that euill might him befalle ! "
the King spake noe more words
1568 till the clothes were drawen from the bords,
& men rose in the hall.
& by the hand he tooke the Queene gent ;
soe in the chamber forth he went,
1572 & there shee told him all.

They kiss,
and all
rejoice.

Helen is
glad too,

and both
couples live
long and
happily.

then was there great Ioy & blisse !
when they together gan kisse,

then all they companye made Ioy enough.
1576 the younge Queene [was] full glad

that shee a Kings Sonne to her Lord had,
shee was glad, I trowe ;

in Ioy together lead their liffe

1580 all their dayes without striffe,
& liued many a fayre yeere.
Then king Arradas & his Queene
had ioy enough them betweene,

1584 & merrilye 3 liued together.

[page 202]

1 For the preceding half-stanza the
Cambridge text has a whole one :

Ye may welle wete certeynly
That there was a great mangory,
There as so many wf re mett :

Qwene Margaret began the deyse ;
Kyng Ardus wyth-owtyn lees,
Be hur was he sett. — F.

mckyll.-
merely.-

-Cop.
-Cop.

Sill TEIAMORE.

135

& thus wee leatie of Tryamore
that lined long in great honor
with the fayre Hellene. 1
1588 I pray god giue their sonles good rest,
& all that haue heard this litle lest, 2

highe heanen for to win !
god grant vs all to haue that grace,
1592 him for to see in the celestyall place I
I pray you all to say Amen !

ffillS. 3

Good bye,
Triamorc !

God send all
my hearers
to heaven !
Amen!

Elyne. — Cop.

Gest. P.C.— P. gest.— Cop.

Copland's colophon is, " d

Im-

printed at London in Tenies strete vpo«
the thro Crane wharfe. By Wyllyam
Copland."— F.

130

Guy jour-
neys in the
Holy Land,

[See the General Introduction to the Guy Poems, under Guy § Colebrande below.]

IJUYE : iourneyed ore the sanctifyed ground
wheras the Iewes fayre citye soineti[me] stood,

wherin our saviours sacred head was crowned,
& where for sinfull man he shed his blood.

to see the sepulcher was his intent,

the tombe that Ioseph vnto Iesus lent.

With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,
& passed desarts places 2 full of danger;

att last with a most woefull wight did meet,
a man 3 that vnto sorrow was noe stranger,

for he had 15 sonnes made captiues all

to slauish 4 bondage, in extremest thrall.

and meets
a woeful
man,

whose fifteen
sons are held
in bondage

the giant
Amarant.

Guy under-
takes to free
them,

and knocks
loudly at the
giant's door.

A gyant called Amarant detained them,

whom noe man durst encounter for his strenght,
who, in a castle w7w'ch he held, had chaind them.
16 Guy questions w[h]ere, 5 & vnderstands at lenght
the place not farr. " lend me thy sword," quoth. Guy ;
" He lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free."

With that he goes & layes vpon the dore
20 like one, he sayes, that must & will come in.
the Gyant, he was neere soe rowzed before,

1 By the elegance of Language &
easy Flow of the versification, this Poem
should be more modern than the rest.
- — P. The first bombastic rhodomontade
affair in the book. Certainly modern,
and certainly bad, as bad as it well can
be, if it was meant seriously. One is
tempted in charity to think it a quiz of

the style it affects. Cp. st. 31, "but
did not promise you they should be fatt."
1. 186.— F. 2 desart-p[laces].— P.

3 called Erie Jonas, p. 253 [of MS.
torn out for King Estmere], — P.

4 There are two strokes in MS. after
the u, one is dotted. — F.

5 where. — P.

GUYE AND AMAllANT.

137

for noe such knocking at his gate had beene ;
soc takes his keyes & club, & goeth out,
Staring with irefdll countenance about :

Amarant

comes fortli,;

" Sirra ! " sais hee, " what busines hast thou heere ?

art come to feast my crowes about the walls l ?
didst 2 neuer heare noe ransome cold him cleere

that in the compas of my furye falls 3 ?
for making me to take a porters paines,
with this same club I will dash out thy braines."

and saya
he'll dash
Guy's brains

out.

Of")

" Gyant," saies Guy, "yo^r quarrelsome, I see ;

choller & you are something neere of Kin ;
dangerous at a club be-like you bee ;

I haue beene better armed, though now goe th[in.]
but shew thy vtmost hate, enlarge thy spite !
heere is the wepon that must doe me right."

Guy answers

that his
sword will
right him,

Soe takes his sword, salutes [him 4 ] with the same
about the head, the shoulders, & the sides,

whilest his erected club doth death proclaime,
standing with huge Collossous spacious strydes,

putting such vigor to his knotted beame

that like a furnace he did smoke extreme.

anil attacks
the giant,

who strikes
fierce

strokes,

But on the ground he spent his stroakes in yaine,
44 for Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,

& ere he cold recouers 5 clubb againe,

did beate his plated coate against his will :

att such aduantage Guy wold neuer fayle
48 to beate him soundly in his coate of Mayle.

which Guy
avoids,

and hacks at
the giant.

1 wall.— P.

2 ? MS. didest or the e has been altered
into part of the s.^F.

3 fall.— P.

4 him with. — P.

5 There's an apostrophe in recent ink
over the s in the MS. — F.

138

GUYE AND AMARANT.

Amarant
grows faint,

and asks
Guy to let
him drink at
a spring.

Guy gives
him leave.

Att last through strength, Amarant l feeble grew,

& said to Guy, " as thou art of humane race,
shew itt in this, giuee nature 2 wants her dew ;
52 let me but goe & drinke in younder place ;
thou canst not yeeld to 3 [me] a smaller thing
then to grant life thats giuen by the spring."

" I giue the leaue," sayes Guy, " goe drinke thy 4
56 to pledge the dragon & the savage beare, 5

suceed the tragedyes that they haue past ;

but neuer thinke to drinke 6 cold water more 7 ;

drinke deepe to death, & after that carrouse
60 bid him receiue thee in his earthen house."

Amarant
drinks so
greedily

Soe to the spring he goes, & slakes his thirst,

takeing in 8 the water in, extremly like
Some wracked shipp that on some rocke is burst, [p. 2.33]
64 whose forced bulke against the stones doe stryke ;
Scoping it in soe fast with both his hands
that Guy, admiring, to behold him stands.

" Come on," qitoth Guy, " lets to our worke againe ;
68 thou stayest about thy liquor ouer longe ;
the fish w/tich in the riuer doe remaine

will want thereby ; thy ° drinking doth them
wrong ;
but I will [have] their 10 satisfaction made ;
72 with gyants blood the must & shall be payd ! "

The giant " Villaine," quoth. Amarant, " He crush thee straight !

thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence !
this club, ■which, is about some hundred waight,

that Giry
wonders.

He calls on
Amarant to
fight again.

1 the strength of A : or thro' lacke
of strength he. — P. This circumstance
seems borrowed from song 104. p. 349,
[of MS. Guy $ Colebrande].—P.

2 An 's has been added by P. in the
MS.— P.

3 unto. — P.

4 One stroke too many for thy in tiic
MS.— P.

5 boar. Qu. — P.

6 Only half the n in the MS.— P.

7 here, Qu., or mair. — P.

8 delend. — P.

9 MS. their.— F. thy.— P.
10 have their. — P.

GUYE AND AMAKANT.

139

76 lias deatlies commission to dispactk ! tliee hence !
dresse thee for Rauens dyett, I must needs,
& breake thy bones as they were made of reeds ! '

says he'll
break <iuy'.<
bones.

Incensed much att 2 this bold Pagans bosts,
80 which worthy Guy cold ill endure to heare,

he hewes vpon those bigg supporting postes
which like 2 pillars did his body beare.

Amarant for those wounds in choller groweSj
84 & desperatelye att guy his club he throwes,

Which did directly e on his body light

soe heauy & soe weaghtye 3 there wrthall,
that downe to ground on sudden came the JLnight ;
88 & ere he cold recouer from his fall,
the gyant gott his club againe in his fist,
& stroke a blow that wonderfullye mist.

" Traytor ! " qtioth Guy, " thy falshood lie repay,
92 this coward art to intercept my bloode."

sayes Amarant, " He murther any way ;
with enemyes, all vantages are good ;

o ! cold I poyson hi thy nostrills blowe,
96 be sure of it, I wold destroy the soe ! "

" Its well," said Guy, " thy honest thoughts appear

within that beastlye bulke where devills dwell,
which are thy tennants while thou liuest heere,
100 but wilbe landlords when thou comest in hell.
Vile miscreant ! prepare thee for their den !
Inhumane monster, hurtfull vnto men !

Guy hews
away at
Amarant's
legs;

he throws his
club at Guy,

and knocks
him down.

Guy re-
proaches
him for
fightinfr
unfairly,

" But breath thy selfe a time while I goo drinke,
104 for flameing Pheabus with his fyeryc eye
torments me soe with burning heat, I thinke

1 1' i .i i

have to
drink.

1 Here again is the cthiov tch, noticed
iu vol. i. p. 23, note '. — F.

2 MS. all.— - F. attthis.-

3 weightye. — P.

140

GUYE AND AMARANT.

A mar ant
refuses : he
is not such a
fool

my thirst wold serue to drinke an Ocean drye.
forbear a litle, as I delt with, thee."
108 Quoth. Amarant, " thou hast noe foole of mee !

" Noe ! sillye wretch ! my father taught more ■

how I shold vse such enemyes as thou,
by all my gods ! I doe reioyce at itt,
112 to vnderstand that thirst constraines thee now;
for all the treasure that the world containes,
one drop of water shall not coole thy vaynes.

as 1" refresh
his foe.

Amarant
swings his
club round,

" Releeue my foe ! why, twere a madmans part !
116 refresh an aduersarye, to my wronge !

if thou imagine this, a child thou art.

no, fellow ! I haue knowne the world to longe

to be soe simple now I know thy want ;
120 a Minutes space to thee I will not grant."

And with these words, heauing a-loft his club

into the ayre, he swinges the same about,
then shakes his lockes, & doth his temples rubb,
124 & like the Cyclops in his pride doth strout 2 ;
" Sirra," said hee, " I haue you at a lifte ;
now you are come vnto jotir latest shift ;

and promises
to kill Guy

and drink
his blood.

Guy abuses
the giant,

" Perish for euer with this stroke I send thee,
128 a Medcine will doe thy thirst much good ;

take noe more care of drinke before I end thee,
& then weelle haue carowses of thy blood !

heeres at thee with a buchers downe-right blow,
132 to please my fury with thine ouerthrow ! "

" Infe[r]nall, false, obdurat feend ! " Guy said, 2
" that seemes a lumpe of cruel tye from hell !
ingratefull monster ! since thou hast denyd 3

1 Strowt yn, or bocyn owte (bowtyn,
S.) Turgco, Catholicon, Prompt. — F.

2 cryd ; [or] perhaps, ' said Guy.' — P

3 dost deny. — P.

GUYE AND AMARANT.

141

136 the thing to mee wherin I vsecl thee [well, 1 ]
with more reuenge then ere my sword did make,
On thy accursed head revenge lie take ! [ page 234]

140

144

" Thy gyants longitnde shall shorter shrinke,

except thy sunscorcht sckin doe weapon proue. 2
farwell my thirst ! I doe disdaine to drinke.

bids the
streams keep
their waters
for them-

streames, keepe you[r] waters to you[r] owne selves,

behoues, 3
or let wild beasts be welcome thernnto ;
with those pearle dropps I will not hane to doe.

" Hold, tyrant ! take a tast of my good will ;

for thus I doe begin my bloody e bout ;
you cannot chuse but like the greeting ill, —
148 it is not that same club will beare you out,—
& take this payment ou thy shaggye crowne,"
a blow that brought him with, a vengeance
dow[ne].

strikes
Amarant,
fetches him
down,

Then Guy sett foot vpon the monsters brest,
152 & from his shoulders did his head devyde,

which with a yawninge mouth did gape vnblest,-
noe dragons Iawes were euer seene soe wyde

to open & to shut, — till liffe was spent.
156 soe Guy tooke Keyes, & to the castle went,

cuts off his
head,

160

Where manye woefull captiues he did find,
which had beene tyred with extremity e,

whom he in ffreindly manner did vnbind,
& reasoned with them of their miserye.

eche told a tale with teares & sighes & cryes,

all weeping to him with complainning eyes.

sets free his
captives,—

well.— P.

2 be weapon-proof. — P.

3 behoof.— P,

142

GDYE AND AMARANT.

some, ladies

who had
been fed on
their dead
lovers and
husbands, —

and the
palmer's
fifteen sons,

who were
like the
pictures of
Death.

Guy restores
the palmer
his sons,

164

1G8

172

176

180

184

gives him
the giant's
castle, * '

There tender Lai dyes in darke dungeon 1 lay,
that were surprised in the desart wood,

& had noe other dyett euerye day

then flesh of humane creatures for their food ;

some with their louers bodyes had beene fed,

& in their wombes 2 their husbands buryed.

Now he bethinkes him of his being there,

to enlarge they 3 wronged Brethren from 4 their
w[oes ;]

& as he searcheth, doth great clamors heare;
by which sad sounds direction, on he goes

vntill he findes a darkesome obscure gate,

armed strongly ouer all with Iron plate :

That 5 he vnlockes, and enters where appeares

the strangest obiect that he euer saw,
men that with famishment of many yeerres

will 6 were like deaths picture, which the painters
dra[w ;]
diuers of them were hanged by eche thumbe ;
others, head downeward ; by the middle, summe. 7

With dilligence he takes them from the walls,
With lybertye their thraldome to accquainte.

then the perplexed ~K.night the father calls,

& sayes, " receiue thy sonnes, thoe poore & faint !

I promised you their Hues ; eccept of that 8 ;

but did not promise you the shold be fatt.

" The castle I doe giue thee, — heere is the Keyes, —

where tyranye for many yeeres did dwell ;
procure the gentle tender Ladyes ease ;

1 Only half of the first n in the MS.
— F.

2 ? MS. wombers.— F.

3 the.— P.

4 There is something like a blotched o
before the r in tho MS. — F.

5 Then.— P.

6 delend. — P.

7 some. — P. The e, and last stroke of
the m, have been cut off by the binder.
— F.

8 accept of that. — P.

GUYE AND AMARANT.

143

for pittye sake vse wronged -women well !
men may easilye revenge the deeds men doe,
192 but poore weake women haue no strenght therto."

ami charges
him to use
the women
well.

19G

The good old man, enen ouerioyed -with tins,

fell on the ground, & wold haue kist Guys fee[t.]

"father," quoth, hee, " refraine soe base a kisse !
for age to honor youth, I hold vnmeete ;

ambitious pryd hath hurt me all it can,

T goe to mortifie a sinfull man." ffins.

Guy refuses
to let the
palmer kiss
his feet.

144

The allusions in these lines are principally to well-known
incidents in the reign of Charles I., most of which occurred
between 1625 and 1630.

" Cales," of course, means " Cadiz ; " and the expeditions of
Viscount Wimbledon to that place in 1625, of the Duke of
Buckingham to Ehe in 1627, and of the Earl of Denbigh to
Eochelle in 1628 — all failures — are commemorated in lines 1, 2,
and 3. Line 4 alludes to the grant of five subsidies made on
the concession of the Petition of Eight ; lines 6, 8, and 9, refer
to the death of Buckingham. The peace with Spain, mentioned
in line 7, was proclaimed on the 5th of December, 1630. Lines 9
to 12 commemorate the recent passing of the Petition of Eight,
which took place on the 5th of June, 1628. Of lines 17 to 24 I
take the meaning to be : " Do not meddle with the hierarchy for
fear of the Inquisition, that is, the Star Chamber, where thou
shalt find a crop-ear doom, cries Leighton." The allusion is to the
dreadful sentence inflicted on Dr. Alexander Leighton, a portion
of which was that he should have " one of his ears cut off, and
his nose slit, and be branded in the face." (State Trials, vol. iii.
p. 385.)

Line 25 alludes to the King's commission for extracting fines
from those who, having 401. a year in lands, did not attend at the
coronation to be knighted. Lines 26 to 30 refer to the case of
Walter Long, sheriff of Wilts, who was fined 2,000 marks for
absenting himself from his county to attend his duty in parlia-
ment. (State Trials, vol. iii. p. 235.)

1 A kind of State Satire on the abuses in Charles I s .* time — very obscure. — P.

CALES VOYAGE. 145

Lines 33 to 37 relate to a speech of Sir Dudley Carleton in the
House of Commons in 1628, in which he warned the House of
the fate of parliaments in foreign countries, where they had been
overthrown by monarchs as soon as they began to know their
own strength. Hence, he continued, the misery of the people on
the continent, who look like ghosts and not men, being nothing
but skin and bones, with some thin cover to their nakedness, and
wearing only wooden shoes on their feet. Rushvorth, vol. i.
p. 359. Whitelocke substitutes " canvas clothes " for the thin
covering, p. 6. Both agree in the wooden shoes.

The allusion in the closing lines, 39 and 40, is to the Lord
Chief Justice Tresilian, in the reign of Richard II. He was one
of that King's evil advisers, was impeached by parliament, found
guilty of treason, and hanged at Tyburn l — which may be said to
be the moral of this poem. J. Bruce.

ATT cales wee latelye made afray, WeVe been

att He of Ree 2 wee run away, rfghfatd

our shippes poore Rochell did betray. left '

4 5 subsiddyes for that, but g i ve us

five subsidies

And then wee shall to sea againe, and we'll

all that 3 our generall was slaine,
& now wee haue made peace with spaine,
8 Iacke ffellton !

S*'r Artigall grand Torto * slew ; [page 235]

now euerye man must have his dew

Ws've a. new

by vertue of a gracious new Petit on of

12 Petition of right. what'a

blessing

1 See Political Poems and Songs, eel. de la Rochelle." Paris, 1629. — F.
Wright, vol. i. p. 423, 460. 3 Altho' or Albeit.— P.

2 See Marc Lescarbot's " La chasse * See Spencer's Fairy Queen. — P.
aux Anglois en l'Isle de Kez et au Siege

VOL. II. L

146

CALES VOYAGE.

Don't talk
of Pope
John's
children,

or the
Inquisition
will catch,
hold of you.

Don't leave
your county
when you're
Sheriff.

Be dutiful,
or else you'll
turn French-
men, and
have to wear
wooden
shoes.

The child of honor did deffye
In mortall fight his enemye,
& when he came to doe him dye,
16 cryes Sail : Brooke.

Eleuen children had Pope Iohn,
Pope Iohn the twelft, an able man ;
heeres to the daffe, He pledge the don,
20 A pulpitt of sacke !

Nbe more of that, doe not presume,
ffor ffeare of the Inquisition at Rome,
where thou shalt find a cropeare dome,
24 Cryes Layston.

Ten poundes for not being made a K.niyht ;
fiiue thousand Markes was deemed right
for being out of his countryes sight
28 In time o Shreaualltrye.

These & such like, as I you tell,
In fayrye land latelye befell,
where Iustice Sought with Iustice Cell
32 Att Gloster.

Be dutifull, good people all,
the gouerment else alter shall,
& bring you to the state of Graule,
36 Haire shirts & woodden shooes !

Hang bad
counsellers.

Noe habeas corpus shall be gott ;
but for all this damned plott
Tresilian went vnto the pott
40 Att Tyburne ! fins.

i -i;

lunge $c JHtlle r : !

This copy is given in the Reliques " with corrections," and
" collated with an old black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection
intitled ' A pleasant ballad of K. Henry II. and the Miller of
Mansfield.' ' "There are copies of this ballad," says Mr. Chappell,
who prints the tune, "in the Koxburghe Collection, vol. i. p. 178,
and p. 228 ; in the Bag-ford p. 25."

" It has been a favourite subject," says Percy, " with our
English ballad-makers to represent our kings conversing, either
by accident or design, with the meanest of their subjects. Of
the former kind, besides this song of the King and the Miller,
we have ' K. Henry and the Soldier,' ' K. James I. and the
Tinker,' ' K. William III. and the Forester ' &c. Of the latter
sort are ' K. Alfred and the Shepherd,' ' K. Edward IV. and
the Tanner,' < K. Henry VII. and the Cobbler ' &c."

" The earliest of these stories," says Professor Child in his
Introduction to King Edward Fourth and the Tanner of Tarn-
worth, " seems to be that of King Alfred and the Neatherd, in
which the herdsman's wife plays the offending part and the
peasant himself is made Bishop of Winchester. Others of a
very considerable antiquity are the tales of Henry II. and the
Cistercian Abbot in the Speculum Ecclesice of Griraldus Cambren-
sis (an. 1220) printed in Reliquice Antiques i. 147; King
Edward and the Shepherd, and The King [Edward] and the
Hermit in Hartshorne's Metrical Tales (p. 35. p. 293, the latter
previously in The British Bibliographer iv. 81); Rauf Coilzear,

1 In the printed Collect/on of Old Ballads, 1727, Vol. i. p. 53. No. VIII.— P.

l 2

148

KINGE AND MILLER.

how he harbreit King Charles in Laing's Select Remains ; John
de Reeve .... and the King and the Barker, the original of
the present ballad."

The idea of majesty compelled, or condescending to fraternise
with low life has in foreign countries, too, excited the vulgar
imagination. Such meetings of extremes — the fellowships of a
power so high with a thing so low — have proved extremely fasci-
nating. And while the stories of them show how tremendous was
the interval between the king and his poor subjects, they show also
how friendly was the popular conception of royalty. The king
was far, far off; but he was kindly and genial. He could be
imagined descending from his supreme height, and enjoying the
humours of the humblest and vulgarest. Such descents were a
kind of Avatars, which the people rejoiced to remember and
celebrate. They served to kindle and fan their lo} T al affection ;
to bind the king and people, as showing that he was a man of
like passions with themselves, not an alien unsympathetic being,
scarcely human.

King Henry
will go a
hunting.

Hawk and
hound are
•let go.

iiENEIlY, our royall B«(/, wold goe a huntinge
to the greene fforrest soe pleasant & fayre,

to haue the harts chased, the daintye does tripping ;
to merry Sherwood his nobles repayre ;

hauke & hound was vnbound, all things prepared

for the same to the game with good regard.

The King
hunts all
da}-,

and at night
loses himself
in the wood.

All a longe summers day rode the ~King pleasantly e
with all his princes & nobles eche one,

chasing the hart & hind & the bucke gallantly e,
till the darke euening inforced them turne home.

then at last, ryding fast, he had lost quite

all his Lords in the wood in the darke night.

RINGE AND MILLER. 119

Wandering thus wearilye all alone vp & downe,

with a rude Miller he mett att the Last, 5?., meeta a

7 Miller,

asking the ready way vnto fay re Nottingham. way^Not!

16 " Sir," Quoth, the Miller, " I meane not to lest, Thf MiTier

yett I thinke what I thinke truth for to say,
you doe not lightly e goe out of jour way."

4
"Why, what dost thou thinke of me?" Qwoth our
King merrily,
20 "passing thy iudgment vpon l me soe breefe."

"good faith," Quoth the Miller, "I meane 2 not to

natter thee, takes the

" I gesse thee to bee some gentleman theefe ; thief,

stand thee backe in the darke ! light not adowne, threatens to

crack his

24 lest I presentlye cracke thy knaues cro[wn]e ! " crown.

5
" Thou doest abuse me much," quoth, our King,
" saying thus.
I am a gentleman, and lodging doe lacke."
"thou hast not," quoth, the Miller, " a groat in thy sayshe-sa

» T- e ./ gentleman

pursse . who wants

28 all thine inheritance hanges on thy backe."

" I haue gold to discharge for that I call ;

and can pay

if itt be 40 pence, I will pay all." f °r it-

6
" If thou beest a true man," then said the Miller, T £ e M " ler

' offers to

32 " I sweare by my tole dish He lodge thee all night." lod s ehim >

" Heeres my hand," quoth our King, "that was I [page 236]
euer."
"nay, soft," qztoth the Miller, "thou mayst be a
sprite ;
better He know thee ere hands I will shake ; but , t

36 with none but honest men hands will I take." SMS**

' MS. vpom.— F. 2 Only half the n in the MS.— F.

150

KINGE AND MILLER,

They go into

the Miller's
smoky house,

Thus they went all alonge into the Millers house,
where they were seeding * of puddings & souce. 2

the Miller first entered in, then after went the King ;
neuer came he in soe smoakye a house. 3

" now," quoth hee, "let me see heere what you are."

Quoth, our King, "looke you[r] fill, & doe not spare."

and the wife
asks if the
King is a
runaway.

Where is his
passport ?

" I like well thy countenance ; thou hast an honest
fac[e] ;
with my sonne Richard this night thou shalt Lye."
Qtioth his wiffe, " by my troth it is a good hansome
yout[h] ;
yet it is best, husband, to deale warrilye.
art thou not a runaway ? I pray thee, youth, tell ;
show vs thy pasport & all shalbe well."

He has none,

as he is a
ccurtier.

The Miller
thinks the
King behaves
well to his
betters,

Then our King presentlye, making lowe curtesie,

with his hatt in his hand, this he did say :
" I haue noe pasport, nor neuer was seruitor,
52 but a poore Courtyer rode out of the way ;

& for jouv kindnesse now offered to me,
I will requite it in euerye degree."

10
Then to the Miller his wiffe whisperd secretlye,
56 saing, " it seemeth the youth is of good kin

both by his apparell & by his Manners ;

to turne him out, certainely it were a great sin."
" yea," quoth hee, " you may see hee hath some grace,
60 when as he speaks to his betters in place."

"Well," q?toththe Millers wiffe, "younge man, welcome

heer[e] !
& tho I sayt, well lodged shalt thou be ;

1 seething, boiling. — F.

2 The head, feet, and ears of swine
boi'ed and pickled for eating. Halli-

well.— F.

3 See Forewords to Babees Boke, p.
lxiv.— F.

KINGE AND MILLER. 151

fresh straw I will lay vpon yo«r bed soe braue, and he may

64 good browne hempen sheetes likwise," Quoth, shee. on straw

7 and hemp

" I," quoth the goodrnan, " & when that is done, sheets with

their son,

thou shalt lye noe worse then onr owne Sonne."

" Nay first," quoth Richard, "good fellowe, tell me
trne,
68 hast thou noe creepers in thy gay hose ? if he has no

. - creepers in

art thou not troubled with the Scabbado i r his breeches,

"pray you," quoth the K.ing, "what things are
those ?
art thou not lowsye nor scabbed ? " qwoth hee ; and is not

scabbed.

72 " if thou beest, surely thou lyest not wtth me.

This caused our Kmg suddenly to laugh most hartilye

till the teares trickled downe from his eyes,
then to there supper were the sett orderlye, They sup on

bag-

76 to hott bag puddings & good apple pyes ; puddings,

. apple pies,

nappy ale, good & stale, in a browne bowle, and nappy

w7a'ch did about the bord Merrilye troule.

14
"Heere," quoth the Miller, " good fellowe, He drinke TheMiiier

' u ' b drinks to the

to thee Kin g>

80 & to all the courtnolls ^7iat curteous bee."

"I pledge thee," quoth our ~King, "& thanke thee and the King

to him

heartilye
for my good welcome in euerye degree ;
& heere in like manner I drinke to thy sonne." and his son.

84 " doe then," saies Richard, " & quicke let it come."

" Wiffe," q«oth the Miller, " feitch me forth lightfoote, The Miller
£7iat wee of his sweetnesse a litle may tast." Lightfoot.

a faire venson pastye shee feiched forth presentlye.

1 MS. may be Scolloado. See Forewords to Babees Boke, 1 868, p. lxiv. — F,

152

KINGE AND M1LLEE.

The King
likes it
immensely.

88 " eate," quoth, the Miller " but first make noe wast ;
heer is dainty Lightfoote." " infaith," quoth, our King,
" I neuer before eate of soe dayntye a thinge."

Where can
he buy some?

It's the
King's deer
from
Sherwood.

" Iwis," said Richard, "noe dayntye att all it is,
92 for wee doe eate of it euerye day."

" in what place," sayd our King, " may be bought lik
to th[is ?] "
" wee neuer pay peennye for it, by my fay ;
from merry Sherwood wee feitch it home heerc ;
96 now & then we make bold with our Kings deere."

Don't tell
him.

100

17
" Then I thinke," quoth, our King, " that it is Venison."

" eche foole," quoth. Richard, " full well may see that ;
neuer are we w/thout 2 or 3 in the rooffe,

verry well fleshed & exellent ffatt.
but I pray thee say nothing where-ere thou goe,
we wold not for 2 pence the King shold it know."

Certainly
not, says
the King.

morning the
nobles

find the King

at the
Miller's
house,
and fall on
their knees
before him.

18
" doubt not," saies l our King, " my promised secresye ;
104 the King shall neuer know more ont for mee."
a cupp of lambes woole 2 they dranke vnto him,

& to their bedds the past presentlye.
the Nobles next Morning went all vp & downe
108 for to seeke the King in euerye towne;

1 9 [page 237]

At last, att the Miller's house soone the did spye him

plaine,
as he was mounting vpon his faire steede ;
to whome the came presentlye, falling downe on their

knees,

1 MS. saiy.— F.

2 A favourite liquor among the com-
mon people, composed of ale and roasted

apples ; the pulp of the roasted apple
worked up with the ale, till the mixture
formed a smooth beverage. Nares. — F.

KINGE AXD MILLEK.

153

112 which, made the Millers hart wofullye bleed.
Shaking & quaking before him he stood,
thinking he shold be hanged by the rood.

The Miller
quakes.

The K[ing] perceiuing him fearfully tremblinge,
116 drew forth his sword, but nothing he said ;

the Miller downe did fall crying before them all,
doubtinge l the King wold cut of his head.

but he, his kind curtesie for to requite,
120 gaue him great liuing, & dubd him a Knight.

21
When as our noble King came from Kottingam,

& with his nobles in Westminster Lay,
recounting the sports & the pastime the had tane
124 in this late progresse along on the way;
of them all, great & small, hee did protest
the Miller of Mansfeild liked him best ;

The King
draws his
sword.

The Miller
expects to
have his
head cut off>

but is
knighted.

At West-
minster,
afterwards,

22
"And now, my Lorrfs," qwoth the King, "I am de-
termined,
128 against St. Georges next sumptuous feast,

that this old Miller, our youngest confirmed Knight,

with, his sonne Richard, shalbe both my guest ;
for in this merryment it is my desire
132 to talke with this Iollye Knight & the younge squier."

When as the Noble Lords saw the Kings merriment,

the were right Ioyfull & glad in their harts.
a Pursiuant the sent straight on this busines,
136 the w7«'ch oftentimes vsed those parts.

when he came to the place where he did dwell,
His message merrilye then he did tell.

the King
resolves
to ask the
Miller and
his son up
to a feast.

A pur-
suivant is
sent with
the invita-
tion,

1 fearing. — F.

154

KIXGE AM) MILLER.

which he
delivers in
due form.

24
" God saue jour worsliippe," then said the messenger,
140 " & grant jour Ladye l her owne harts desire ;
& to jour sonne Richard good fortune & happinesse,

that sweet younge gentleman & gallant squier !
our 'King greets you well, & thus doth say,
144 ' you must come to the court on St. Georges day ' ;

At first the
Miller is
half afraid,

but on
hearing of
the feast

148

" Therfore in any case fayle not to be in place."
" I- wis," quoth the Miller, "it is an odd lest !
what shold wee doe there ? " he sayd, "infaith I am
halfe afraid."
"I doubt," quoth. Richard, "to be hanged att the
least."
" nay," q^wth the Messenger, " you doe mistake ;
our Kmg prepares a great feast for jour sake."

gives the
pursuivant
three
farthings,

"Then," said the Miller, "now by my troth, Mes-
senger,
152 thou hast contented my worshipp full well :

hold ! there is 3 farthings to quite thy great gentleness

for these happy tydings which thou dost me tell,
let me see ! hearest thou me ? tell to our King,

and promises 156 weele wayte on his Mastershipp in euerye thing:."

to come. J rr J °

The

pursuivant
reports all
to the King.

160

27
The pursivant smyled at their simplicitye ;

& making many 2 leggs, tooke their reward,
& takeing then his leaue with great humilitye,

to the Kings court againe hee repayred,
showing vnto his grace in euerye degree
the Knights most liberall giffts & great bountye.

1 ? MS. Ladyes.— F.

2 Only half the n in the MS.— F.

KINGE AM) MILLER.

l.j.J

When hee was gone away, thus can the Miller say,
164 " heere comes expences & charges indeed ! The Miller

now must wee needs be braue, tho wee spend all wee Euy P new °

, clothes,

liaue ; horses, &c.

for of new garments wee haue great need,
of horsses & serving men wee must haue store,
168 with bridles & sadles & 20'^ e things more."

172

" Tushe, Sir Iohn," qnoth his whTe, " neither doe frett
nor frowne !

you shall bee att noe more charges of mee !
for I will turne & trim vp my old russett gowne,

with euerye thing else as fine as may bee ;
& on our Mill horsses full swift wee will ryd,
with pillowes & pannells as wee shall provyde."

His wife
dissuades
him.

She'll trim
up the old
clothes,

and they'll
ride their
mill-horses.

In this most statelye sort the rod vnto the court,
176 their lusty sonne 'Richard formost of all,

who sett vp by good hap a cockes fether in his cappe ;
& soe the ietted downe towards the Kmgs hall,

the Merry old Miller with his hands on his side,
180 his wiffe like Maid Marryan did Mince at that tyde.

Thus they
go to court.

184

The King & his nobles that hard of their coming,

meeting this gallant Knight with this braue traine,
"welcome, Sir 'Knight,'" qwoth hee, "w/th this jour The King

T -i i welcomes

gay Lady ! them>

good Sir Iohn Cockle, once welcome againe ;
& soe is this squier of courage soe free ! "
Qtwth dicke, " abotts on you ! doe you know me ? "

Quoth our King gentlye, " how shall I forgett thee ?
188 thou wast my owne bed- fellow ; well that I wot,

and assures
Richard
that he

156

KINGE AND MILLER.

remembers
him.

The King
conducts
them to
table,

but I doe thinke on a tricke ; tell me, pray thee, dicke,

how with farting we made the bed hott."
" thon horson happy knane," the[n] qiiotla. the Knight,
192 " speake cleanly to our [king now,] or else goe shite ! "

33 [page 238]

The king and his councellors hartilye laugh at this,

while the K»j tooke them by the hand,
with Ladyes & their maids, like to the Queene of
spades
196 the Millers wiffe did most orderlye stand ;
a milkemaids curtesye at euurye word,
& downe these folkes were set to the bord,

and after
dinner
drinks to
the Miller,

and wants
some of his
venison.

Where the 'King royally with princely Maiestye
200 sate at his dinner with Ioy & delight.

when he had eaten well, to resting then hee fell ;
taking a bowle of wine, dranke to the Kniglit,

" heeres to you both ! " he sayd, "in ale, wine, & beere,
204 thanking you hartilye for all my good cheere."

35
Qitoth Sir Iohn Cockle, " He pledge you a pottle,

were it the best ale in Nottingam-shire."
"but then," said our King, "I thinke on a thinge,
208 some of yowr lightfoote I wold we had heere."

" ho : ho : " Quoth Richard!, " full well I may say it ;
its knauerye to eate it & then to bewray it."

He asks
Richard to
pledge him.

Dick says he
must finish
his dinner
first ;

he wants a

black

pudding,

" What ! art thou hungry ? " qzwth our King merrilye,
212 " infaith I take it verry vnkind ;

I thought thou woldest pledg me in wine or ale
heartil[y.] "
"yee are like to stay," qitoth Dicke, "till I haue
dind ,
you feed vs with twatling dishes soe small.
216 zounds ! a blacke pudding is better then all;"

The Miller
and Richard
dance with
the ladies,

KINGE AND MILLER. 157

37
" I, marry," qiioth our Kmg, " that were a daintye thing,

if wee cold gett one heere for to eate."
with that, dicke straight arose, & phicket one out of and puIls

i • i r -i one outoE

his h|_OSe,J his breeches.

220 w7i/ch with heat of his breech began for to sweate.

the Km*/ made prefer to snatch it away ; "That's meat

" its meate for yo«r Master, good Sir, you shall stay ! " master, sir

King."
3S

Thus with great merriment was the time l wholy spent ;
224 & then the Ladyes prepared to dance.

old Sir Iohn 2 Cockle & Richard incontinent
vnto this practise the King did advance,

where-with the Ladyes such sport the did make,
228 the Nobles with laughing did make their heads ake. the nobles

laugh.
39
Many thankes for their paines the Kmg did giue them
then,
asking; young Richard if he wold be wed :

° J ° . TheKing

" amongst these ladyes faire, tell me which liketh thee." asks Dick

° J which lady

232 Quoth hee, " Iugg Grumball with the red head : he'd like.

°° Jugg

shees my loue ; shees my liffe ; her will I wed ; withttf 11 ed

shee hath sworne I shall haue her maidenhead." head."

Then Sir Iohn Cockle the King called vnto him ;
236 & of Merry sherwood made him ouerseer, makes 'the

TVTi 1 1 pt*

& gaue him out of hand 300 1 ! yearlye, overseer of

en jiit i r. i Sherwood,

but now take neede you steale noe more of my deere ! and warns

him not to

& once a quarter lets heare haue yowr vew ; steal any

deer.

240 & thus, Sir Iohn Cockle, I bid thee adew ! "

ffins.

1 A y has been altered into part of 2 Only half the n in the MS. — F.

the m in the MS.— F.

[" PcmcJie" printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs, p. 61, follows here

in the MS.]

158

gguumirte BattelL 1

Agincourt must have been a tempting theme to the ballad-
writer and poet of its day. The splendid pluck with which the
little English army, wasted by dysentery, ill-fed, and harassed by
loncf marches and hostile skirmishers, nevertheless went at its
enemies, facing the terrible odds of more than six to one, and
put to ignominious rout the vaunting knights of France, must
have appealed to the English heart and the English pride, and
ought to have been worthily sung. The ballad-writer especially
was bound to take it up, for the class he wrote for led the van
and won the field. As at Crecy, as at Poictiers, so at Agincourt,
the English yeomen humbled the gentlemen of France. Like
the feu d'enfer of our rifles at Inkerman, the hail of yeomen's
arrows gained England honour in the olden hard-fought field.
But though at Agincourt the rout of the first division of the
French army was due solely to our bowmen, against the second,
squire and knight, noble and king did well their part too — none
better than the Harry who said " We will not lose," and gave
the battle lastingly the name of Azincourt. To the valour of
all was due the flight of the French third division, which,
though more than double the number of the English host,
feared to face their arrows and their swords, and gallopped off
the field. That " the people of England were literally mad
with joy and triumph " at the victory — rushing into the sea to
meet Henry, and carrying him on shore on their shoulders —
we do not wonder ; but it is somewhat odd that no better
ballad or poem on the battle should have come down to us,
though in a play Shakspeare has done it justice. The ballads
known to me are only —

1 In the printed Collection of Old Ballads, 1726, vol. ii. p. 79, No. xii.

AGINCODRTB BATTELL. 159

1. The Deo gratias, Anglia, redde -pro victoria! printed by-
Percy in his Reliques, vol. ii. p. 24, " from a MS. copy in the
Pepys collection, vol. i., folio," and to which the musical notes
of the MS. are given in vol. ii. p. 24 of the second edition of
the Reliques. 2. The present copy, having seven stanzas more
than, but being otherwise nearly the same as, that in the Crown
Garland of Golden Roses, ed. 1569 (p. 69 of the Percy Soc. reprint),
the Collection of Old Ballads, 1726-38, vol. ii. p. 79, No. xii. ;
Evans, vol. ii. p. 351, &c. 3. The Three Man's Song, — far the
best of the lot, — the first verse of which is quoted in Heywood's
King Edward IV. ed. 1600 (p. 52 of the Shakspere Soc. reprint),
and the whole of which is printed from a black-letter copy (about
1665, Mr. Collier tells me) in Collier's Shakspere, ed. 1858, vol.
iii. p. 538. Its title is " Agin Court, or the English Bowman's
Glory : " to a pleasant new Tune. London, printed for Henry
Harper in Smithfield. It is a broadside, aud contains eleven
seven-line stanzas. It begins " Agincourt ! Agincourt ! Know
ye not Agincourt?" 4. The ballad No. 286 in the Halliwell
Collection in Chetham's Library, Manchester, entitled, " King-
Henry V., his Conquest of France in Revenge for the Affront
offered by the French King in sending him instead of the Tribute
a Ton of Tennis Balls." It begins, " As our King lay musing on
his bed ; " and two versions different from it and from one another
are given in Nicolas, Appendix, p. 78, and p. 80, ed. 1832.
5. The Cambro-Britoits Bcdlad of Agincourt, by Michael
Drayton, ib. p. 83. Nos. 3 and 4 will be printed at the end of
this volume.

Of Poems, there are :

1. a. That attributed to Lydgate, in three Passus, in Harl. MS.
5G5, fol. 102-14, beginning ' ; God |?at alle ]?is world gan make,"
and printed among the illustrations of The Chronicle of London,
4to, 1827, and in Nicolas, p. 301-29. /?. "The Siege of Har-
riet, & Batayl of Agencourt, by K. Hen. 5:" another copy
of L3'dgate's poem, says Nicolas (p. 301), but differing from it
so materially that it was necessary to print it as notes to the
corresponding passages of the other. It was printed by Hearne
at p. 359-75 of bis edition of Elmharrfs Life of Henry V., from
the since burnt Cotton MS., Vitellius D. xii. fol. 214 b. Extracts
from it are given by Nicolas, p. 301-29.

7. The Batayll of Egyngecourt, and the great Sege of
Rouen. Impryntyd by John Skot [about 1530 a.d.]. Re-
printed in Nicolas, and in Mr. W. C. Hazlitt's Remains of the

160 AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

Early Popular Poetry of England, vol. ii. p. 88-108. is,
says Nicolas ( App. p. 69), " merely another, though a very differen
version of the one " attributed to Lydgate.

2. Drayton's Battaile of Agincovrt, 1627. (Besides The Lay
of Agincourt, Edinburgh, 1819 (a very poor performance), and
possibly other modern productions.)

Of Dramas, we find :

1. The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth : Containing the
Honourabell Battell of Agin-court: as it was plaide by the
Queene's Maiesties Players. London, Printed by Thomas
Creede, 1598, 4to, 26 leaves. Bodleian. (Malone). 1

2. The Chronicle History of Henry the Fift, With his Battell
fought at Agin Court in France. Togither with auncient Pis-
toll. 1600 : the first cast of Shakspere's Henry V. 2

In prose, a full and admirable account of the battle, with con-
temporary accounts and plentiful extracts from historians, is given
by Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas in his History of the Battle of
Agincourt, and of the Expedition of Henry V. into France in
1415, (2nd ed., 1832; 3rd, 1838); and from this book it may
be worth while just to run through the points of our ballad, and
see how far they are borne out by facts. The Council of line 1,
Nicolas thinks was the parliament which met in November 1514,
which elected Chaucer's son Thomas its Speaker, and voted the
King supplies for the defence of the kingdom of England and
the safety of the seas. But it may have been a smaller Council,
no doubt held before the Commission of the 31st of May,
1514, absurdly claiming the French crown, was issued to the
Bishops of Durham and Norwich, the Earl of Salisbury, Eichard
Lord Grey, &c. — whom Monstrelet calls le Comte dJOvurset,
oncle du Roy d'Angleterre, le Comte de Qrez, V Admiral
d'Angleterre, les Euesques du Dumelin et de Noruegue, et
plusieurs autres iusques au nombre de six cens cheuaux ou
environ (vol. i. p. 216, ed. 1595) — and who were so hospitably
entertained in Paris. The great Council at which the arrange-

1 Hazlitt's Handbook. • Bonn's Lowndes, p. 2280, col. 2.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 1G1

merits for the expedition were made was held at Westminster on
three successive days, April 16, 17, 18, a.d. 1415, directly after
the despatch of Henry's second letter to Charles.

The story of the scornful treatment of the ambassadors in
1. 16-28 is belied by Monstrelet's account of the moult notable
feste dedans Paris en boyres, mangers, joustes, dances et autres
esbatemens, at which the English ambassadors were present ;
and there seems no foundation whatever for the present of the
tennis balls, which would have gone directly counter to the
French King's policy, letters, and interest. But still his young son
may have been saucy,, and have sent a saucy message to Henry.
The story was believed to be true at the time or soon after ; it
is mentioned by Elmham in his Latin-verse life of Henry V '
(though not in his prose life), and a long account of it is given
in a middle fifteenth-century Cotton MS. (Claudius A. viii.)
which Sir H. Nicolas prints, and which, as I had to refer to it
to correct his cornet to the MS. scorne, I add here too :

And tka« the dolphine of Fraunce aunswered to our embassatours,
and said in this maner, ' that the kyng was oner yong and to tender
of age to make any warre ayens hyni, and was not lyke yet to be
noo good werrioure to doo and to make suche a conquest there vpon
hym. And somwhat in scorne and dispite he sente to hym a tonne
tulle of tenys ballis, be-cause he wolde haue some-what for to play
w/t7(alle for hym and for his lordis, and that be-came hym better than
to mayntayn any werre. And than anone oure lordes that was
embassatours token hir leue and comen in to England ayenne, and
tolde the kyng and his counceille of the vngoodly aunswer that they
had of the Dolphy«, and of the present the whiche he had sent vnto
the kyng. And whan y e kyng had hard her wordis, and the answere
of the Dolpynne, he was wondre sore agreued, and righte euelle apayd
towarde the frensshemen, and toward the kyng, and the Dolphynne,
and thoughte to auenge hym vpon hem as sone as good wold send hym
grace and myghte ; and anon lette make tenys ballis for the Dolpynne
in all the hast that the myghte be made, and they were grete gonne
stones for the Dolpynne to play wythe-alle. (fol. 1, back.)

1 Printed in Coles's Memorials of Henri/ V.
VOL. II. Jl

162 AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

This Dauphin was Louis, eldest son of Charles VI., then
between eighteen and nineteen years of age. He was born on
January 22, 1396, and died before his father, without issue, on
December 18, 1415, in his twentieth year (Nicolas). But as
Henry V. was eight years older than the Dauphin, having been
born in 1388, it is not likely that he would have taunted Henry
with his youth.

Lines 33-40 : Henry exerted himself greatly to get his army
together, and had to pledge his crowns, his jewels, plate, &c.
to his men to guarantee them their wages. Nobody would
move without taking security from him. He sailed from South-
ampton on August 7, 1415, with a fleet of between 1200 and
1400 vessels of various sizes, from 20 to 300 tons, according to
Nicolas. Lingard makes the fleet 1500 sail, carrying 6000
men-at-arms and 2400 archers. The army landed at Clef de
Caus, or Kideaux, on August 15 ; on the 19th arrived before
Harfleur, and at once laid siege to it. On " the English balls,"
1. 34, and missiles, Laboureur states that, among other engines,
the English had some which threw stones of a monstrous size, and
projected entire millstones (des meules toutes entieres), which
threw down the walls with a frightful noise, so that by the Feast
of the Assumption (August 15, a wrong date) all their batteries
were destroyed. I find nothing about the "great gunn of Calais "
of 1.49; but on September 17 at midnight the French mes-
sengers came to treat with Henry ; and as the town was not
relieved by September 22, the Lord de (xaucourt and thirty- four
of the noblest persons of the town then surrendered it to him.
He turned out the inhabitants (1. 58) to the number of 2000,
besides citizens, 60 knights, and more than 200 other gentry;
left in the town more than the 300 Englishmen of our
ballad, 1. 59, even, 1 " under the captain 2 (Sir John Blount, says

1 There is a muster-roll of the garrison 22 knights, 273 men-at-arms, and 798

of Harfleur, under the Earl of Dorset, archers. Most of these, we may presume,

taken in the months of January, Feb- had been left behind when the King

ruary, and March, immediately following marched on to Agincourt. Hunter, p. 55.

the battle. It consisted of 4 barons, 2 )?elordBeauford,Harl.MS.575,f. 75 b.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 163

Monstrelet), certain barons and knights skilful in affairs of war,
with 300 lances, and 900 archers on pay " {Nicolas, p. 217), and
marched out himself on October 7 with " not above 900 lances
and 5000 archers," says a writer who was with him. Nicolas
puts the force at from 6000 to 9000 fighting men. Lines 61-4
of the ballad are not true, for Henry's movements were watched,
his stragglers cut off, and the country laid waste before him.
He was repulsed in his first attempts to cross the Somme, between
October 12 and 18 ; but on the 19th, finding a ford not staked,
his army got over ; on the 24th reached Maisoncelles, and on the
25th fought the battle.

The 600,000 French of 1. 72 is of course an exaggeration, a
has been added for effect. 1 The message and answer of lines
73-88 are not historical, though the following particulars are
nearly so, and the 10,000 killed of 1. 137 is borne out by
Nicolas's conclusion, that the whole of the French loss on the
field was between 10,000 and 11,000 men.

The Duke of Yorke of line 117 was " Edward, Duke of York,
son of Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, son of King
Edward III., and cousin german to the King. He indented on
April 29 to serve with 1 banneret, 4 knights, 94 esquires, and
300 mounted archers. His contingent, in the indenture of jewels,
is said to have been 99 lances and 300 archers. He had one of
the crowns in pledge. He went on with the King to Agincourt,
where he lost his life " {Hunter, p. 22). On the Wednesday
before the battle, says Monstrelet, i. 227, "le due d'Yorch, son
oncle, mena?it l'auawtgarde, se logea a Frene^ch sur la riuiere
de Cauche." This leadership of the vanguard the Duke kept on
the 25th, and as the Cotton MS. already quoted from narrates
his asking for it, and the events of the battle, I copy a page
and a half of it from leaves 3 and 4.

1 The highest number in any of the other persons. Note to Hardyngfs

sixteen chronicles that Nicolas gives Chronicle, ' according to the computation

(p. 133, ed. 1832) is "3 Dukes, •') Counts, of the Heralds.'" 150,000 occurs to a

'JO Barons, 1050 Knights, and 100,000 doubtful list. Nicolas, p. 370.

M -1

164 AGINCOURTE BA.TTELL.

And the duke of yorke felle on knees and besougkte the kyng of a
hone, that he wold graunte hym that day the avaunteward in his
hatayle. And the kyng graunted hym his askyng, And sayd,
" graunte mercy, cosen of yorke," and prayd hym to make hym redy.
And than he bad euery man to ordeyne a stake of tre, and sharpe
bothe endes that the stake myghte be pyghte in the ye-^rthe a slope,
that hir enemies shuld not ouer-come hem on horsbak, ffor that were
hir fals purpose, and araide hem alle there for to ouer-ryde our meyne
sodenly at the fyrst comyng on of hem at the fyrst brount : and al
nyghte be-ffore the bataile ]> e ffrenshemen made many grete tiers and
moche reuelle, with howtyng and showtyng, and plaid oure kyng and
his lordis at the dise, and an archer alway for a blanke 2 of hir money,
ifor they wenden alle had bene heres. the morne arose, the day gan
spiyng, And the kyng by goode auise let araie his batayle 3 and his
wenges, and charged euery man to kepe hem hole to-geders, and
praid hem alle to be of good chere. And whan they were redy, ho
asked what tyme of the day it was, And they sayd prime. Than said
oure kyng, "now is good tyme ! For alle England praythe for vs ;
and therfore be of good chere, and let vs goo to oure iorney." And
than he said with an highe vois, " in the name 4 of almyghtey god and
seynt George, avaunt Baner! and seint george this day be thyne
helpe ! " And than these ffrenshmen come prikyng doune as they
wolde haue ouer-ridden alle oure meyne. But god and oure archers
made hem sone to stomble ; ffor oure archers shett neuer arow a-mys,
but yt persshed and broughte to grounde man and hors ; ffor they
"pat day shoten for a wager. And oure stakes mad hem stoppe, &
ouer-terned eche on oothir that they lay on hepes two spere lenghthe
of heyghte. And oure kyng with his meyne and with his men of
armes and archiers that thakked 5 on theym so thykke with arowes,
and leyd on with strokes, and oure kyng withe his owne hondes
faughte manly. And thus almyghtey god and seynt George broughte
oure enymies to grounde and yaf vs that day ]> e victorie. and there
were slayne of ffrenshmen that day in the felde of Agincourte mo
thanne A xi M 11 withe prisoners that were taken. And there were
nombred that day of ffrenshmen in the felde mo than six score thou-

1 MS. fol. 3, back. 3 The main body under his own com-

2 Fr. Blanc, the halfe of a Sol, a peece maud. The vanguard as the right wing
dl' money which we call also, a blanke. under the Duke of York, the rearguard
Sol, a Sous, or the French shilling, as the left wing under Lord Camois.
whereof terme make ono of ours. — Cot- 4 MS. mame.

grave. 6 thwacked, beat, pattered.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL. 165

sand, and of Englishemen nat vij M u ; but god that day faughte for vs.
And after cam ther tydynges to oure kyng that there was a new
batayle of ffrenshemen redy to stele on hym, and comen towardis
\_fol. 4.] hym. Anone our kyng let crie that euery man shuld
slee his prisoners that he had take ; and anon araid his bataille
ayenne to fighte with the frenshmen. And whanne they sawe that our
men kylled doune her prisoners, thanne they w&tMrowe hem, and
brake hir bataille and alle hir Array. And this oure kyng, as a
worthy conqueror, had that day the victorye in the felde of Agencourt
in Picardie. 1

The Duke of Orleance, 1. 149, though he was taken prisoner
in the battle, is not named by Monstrelet as the leader of the
attack on Henry's camp :

Et adonc vindrent nouuelles au Roy Anglois, que les Francois les
assailloient par derriere : & qu'ils auoient desia prins ses sommiers
& autres bagues, laquelle chose estoit veritable : car Robinet de
Bournonuille, Rifflart de Clamasse, Ysambart d'Azincourt, & aucuns
autres ho?«mes d'armes, accompagnez de six cens paisans, allerent
ferir au bagaige dudit Roy d'Angleterre. Et prindrent lesdites
bagues, & autres choses, auec grand nombre de cheuaux desdits
Anglois, entre-temps que les gardes d'iceux estoient occupez en la
bataille. Monstrelet, vol. i. p. 229.

The 200,000 French prisoners is an impossible number, and
Nicolas does not give any at all. The highest estimate of
the English loss is 1600 men. From Agincourt Henry marched
to Calais, where he arrived on October 29. On November 14
he crossed the Channel to Dover, and on the 24th entered
London in triumph :

the Cite of london, where ]>at there was shewed many a fayre
syghte at all the conduytes and at crosse in the chepe, as in heuenly
arraye of aungels, Archaungels, patriarches, prophites and Virgines,
with dyuers melodies, sensyng and syngyng, to welcome oure kyng ;
And alle the conduytes rennyng with wyne. (Cott. Claud. A. viii.
leaf 4, back).

The last three verses of our ballad quicken and alter events

1 Nicolas quotes this also, p. 277-8, at foot.

16G

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

considerably. It was not till after many a weary siege and
fight, culminating with the fall of Rouen on January 16, 141 9, '
that Henry saw his beautiful bride, and that for one day only,
on May 30, 1419. It was not till May 20, 1420, that he
married her at Troyes ; not till December of that year that he
made his triumphal entry into Paris with his wife and his
father-in-law, the French King. He was never crowned in
Paris, King of France, but his wife was crowned in Westminster
Abbey, Queen of England, on St. Matthew's day, September 21,
a.d. 1421.

Henry V.

A conncell brane 2 our ~K.ing did hold

with many a lord & knight,
in 3 whom, he trulye vnderstands
4 how ffrance withheld his right.

sends an
ambassador
to the
French King

therefor a braue embassador

vnto the ~ELing he sent,
that he might ffully vnderstand
3 his mind & whole entente,

to yield him
his right,

or he'll take
it.

desiring him, as 4 freindlye sort,

his lawfull wright to yeeld,
or else he sware 5 by dint of sword
1 2 to win the same in feild.

Charles VI.

answers

the ~K.ing of ffrance, with all his lords

who 6 heard this message plaine,
vnto our braue embassador
1 6 did answer in disdaine ;

1 See the "Sege of Eoan," ArchcBol.
xxi. 48 ; xxii. 361. — P.

2 grave, P.O. (Print 1 ? Copy).— P.

3 Of. Conjecture].— P.

4 in, P.C.— P.

5 vow'd, P.C.— P.

6 which, P.C.— P.

AGIXC0U1STE BATTELL.

K)7

avIio sayd, 1 "our King was yett but 2 youngo

& of a 3 tender age ;
wherfor I way not for his warres, 4
20 nor care not for his rage, 5

" whose 6 knowledge eke 7 in fleats of armes,

whose sickill 8 [is] but 9 verry small,
whose 10 tender ioynts more flitter are
24 to tosse a Tennys ball."

that he
cares not for
Henry's
threats,

a tunn of Tennys balls th erf ore,

in pryde and great disdaine
he sends to Noble Henery the 5'! 1 , 11
28 who recompenced 12 his paine.

and sends
him a tun of
tennis-balls.

& when our Kmg this message hard

he waxed wrath in bis 13 hart,
& said " he wold such balls p?-ovyde
32 that 13 shold make all france to smart."

Henry

an army great 14 our "King prepared, 15

that was both good & strong ;
& from Sowthampton is our King
36 with all his ISTauye gone.

prepares an
army,

he landed in ffrance both safe 16 and sound

with all his warlike traine ;
vnto 17 a towne called Harffleete first ,8
40 he marched vp amaine.

lands in
France,

1 And feign'd, P.C.— P.

2 too, P.C.— P.

3 of too, P.O.— P.

4 we weigh — of his war, P.C — P.

5 fear we his courage, P.C. — P.
8 His, P.C— P.

' is, P.C— P.

8 skill.— P.

9 As yet but &c, P.C— P.
10 His.— P

11 He sent unto our noble K? , P.C
-P.

12 To recompence, P.C — P.

13 d.—P.

" then, P.C— P.
15 did raise, P.C— P.
18 In France he landed safe, &c, P.C
-P.

17 And to, P.C— P.

18 of Harfleur strait, P.C— P.

168

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

besieges
Harfleur,

and when he had beseeged the same,
against these fensed walls

to batter downe their statlye towers
he sent his English Balls.

bids it sur-
render

or he'll beat
it to the
ground.

1 And he bad them yeeld [up to him 2 ]

themselnes & eke their towne,
or else he sware vnto the earth
48 with cannon 3 to beate them downe.

[page 242]

The Govern -
ors give up
the town.

1 the great gunn of Caleis was vpsett, 4

he mounted against those walls 5 ;
the strongest steepele in the towne,
52 he threw downe bells & all.

1 then those that were the gouernors
their woefull hands did wringe 6 ;
the brought their Keyes in humble sort

56 vnto our gracious K.ing.

Henry

garrisons it,

1 & when the towne was woone and last,

the ffrenchmen out the " threw,
& placed there 800 englishmen
60 that wold to him be true.

and
marches to

this being done, our Noble K.ing 8

marched vp & downe that 9 land, —
& not a ffrenchman ffor his liffe
64 durst once his fforce withstand, —

1 These 4 stanz 1 ! not in print. — P.

2 MS. cut away. It has more words.
-F. He hade the governors give up.

-P,

3 guns.-
* then.-

-P.
-P.

5 was ••'gainst their wall. — P.

6 Only half the n in the MS.— F.

7 he.— P.

8 done our noble English King, P.O.
—P.

9 the, P.O.— P.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

till l ho came to Agincourt ;

& 2 as it was his chance,
to ffincl 3 the ~K.ing in reaclinesse,

with him was all the power of ffrance,

169

Agincourt,

where the
French King
is,

a mightye host they 4 had prepared

off armed souldiers then,
wh /ch was noe lesse (the chronicle sayes) 5
72 then 600000 6 men.?

with 000,000
men.

the K.ing of ffrance that well did know

the number of our men,
in vanting pride vnto our 'K.ing
76 sends one of his heralds 8 then

Charles

sends

a herald

to vnderstand what he wold gine
for the 9 ransome of his liffe,

when in that feild he had taken him 10
amiddst that u bloody striffe.

to ask Henry
what ransom
he'll pay for
his life.

& when 12 our ~King the Message heard, 13

did straight the l4 answer make,
saying, " before that thing shold 15 come to passe,
84 many 16 of their harts shold 17 ake !

Henry

answers

1 Until, P.C.— P.
8 Where, P.C.— P.

3 He found. — P. him was, 1. 68,
marked out by P. conj[ecturallyj. — F.

4 He, P.O.— P.

5 by just account, P.O. — P.

6 40,000, P.C.— P.

7 Between 18 and 19'. h Stanza of y e
MS. is the following in Print: —
Which sight did much amaze our king,

For ho and * all his host

Not passing fifteen thousand had,

Accounted at the most. — P.

8 Did sond a Herald, P.C.— P.

9 d.—P.

10 he in field sh'd ... be, P.C.— P.

11 their, P.C.— P.

12 then . . .—P.

13 with cheerfid heart. — P.
11 this.— P.

15 thing shold, cut out by P. — F.

some.

17 shall, P.C.— P.

* n— P.

170

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

" My heart's
blood."

vnto your proud presumptuss prince

declare this tiling," quoth hee,
my owne harts blood shall pay the price ;

nought * else he getts of me." 2

The French

then all the night the frenchman Lyen,

with triumphe, mirth, & Ioy ;
the next morning they mad full accomp[t] 3
92 our Armye to destroye.

play at dice
for the
English,

& for our ~K.ing & all his Lords

at dice the 4 playd apace,
& for our comon souldiers coates
96 they set a prize but base,

and value
their red
coats at 8d.,
white at id.

8 pence for a redd coate, 5

& a groate was sett to a white ; 6
because they 7 color was soe light,
100 they sett noe better buy itt. 8

Henry en-
courages his
men:

the cheerfull day at last was come ;

our K.ing with Noble hart
did pray his valliant soldiers all
104 to play a worthye part,

& not to shrinke from fainting foes,

whose fearfull harts in ffeeld
wold by their feirce couragious stroakes
108 be soone in-forced 9 to yeeld ;

1 none. — P.

2 Seven Stanz 8 following not in Print.

3 Making account the next morning,

or,
They made &c— P. del. full.— P.

4 they.— P.

5 coat was set. — P.

6 And fourpence for a white. — P.

' They put in brackets by P. conj. — F.

» by't.— P.

9 enforced.— P.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

171

" regard not of ' their multitude,

tho they are more then wee,
for eche of vs well able is
112 to beate downe ffrenchmen 3 ;

" Don't
mind the
Fixnch
numbers ;
each of us
can kill
three of
them ; but

" yett let euerye man provide himselfe 2

a strong 3 substantiall stake,
& set it right before himselfe,
116 the horsmans force to breake."

let every
archer get a
stake to stop
the horse-
men."

& then 4 bespake the Duke of yorke

" noble King," said hee,
" the leading of that 5 battell braue
120 vouch[s]afe to giue it 6 me ! "

The Duke of
York

leads the
vanguard.

" god amercy, cosen yorke," sayes hee, Henry

" I doe 7 grant thee thy request ;
Marche you 8 on couragiouslye, [page 243]

124 & I will guide 9 the rest." the rest.

then came the bragginge frenchmen downe

with cruell 10 force & might,
with whome our noble "King began
128 a harde & cruell flight.

The French
come on.

our English archers 1 1 discharged their shafts Our archers

as thicke as hayle in skye, 12
& 13 many a frenchman in that 14 feelde km many;

132 that happy day did dye ;

1 you, or then. — P.

2 himselfe is in 1. 114 in the MS. P.
marks it to go to 1. 113. yett is marked
out by P.— P.

3 But yet let every man provide

A strong &c. — P.

4 With that, P.O.— P.

5 this (the), P.C.— P.

6 to, PC— P.

7 d[e!e].— P.

s then— thou, P.O.— P.

9 lead, PC— P.

10 greater, PC— P.

11 d. English. [Insert] they, PC— P.

12 from skye, P.C— P.

13 That, P.C— P.
" the, P.C— P.

172

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

their stakes
stop the
horse.

1 ffor the horssmen stumbled on our stakes,

& soe their Hues they lost ;
& many a frenchman there was tane
136 for prisoners to their 2 cost.

10,000
French aro
slain,

10,000
taken,

10000 ffrenchmen 3 there were slaine

of enemies in the ffeeld,
& neere as many prisoners tane 4
140 that day were fforced to yeeld.

and Henry
wins the
day.

thns had our "Kmg a happy day

& victorye ouer ffrance ;
he brought his foes vnder bis ffeete 5
144 that late in pride did prance.

While the
fight is going
on, news
comes

G when they were at the Maine battell there

With all their might & forces, then 7
a crye came ffrom our English tents
148 that we were robbed all them 8 ;

that the
French have
plundered
the English
tents.

for the Duke of Orleance, with a band of men,

to our English tents they came 9 ;
all 10 our Iewells & treasure that they haue taken,
152 & many of our boyes n haue slaine.

Henry

orders all
the French
prisoners to
be slain,

much greeved was Kmg 12 Harry therat, —
this was against 13 the law of armes then,-
comands euerye souldier on paine of death
156 to slay euerye prisoner then. 14

1 This stanza not in Print. — P.

2 [prisoner ••] his, [P.]C. — P.

3 men that day, P.C.— P.

4 (d. P.O.)— P.

s them quickly under foot, P.C. — P.

6 The Nine Stanz". following not in
print, but instead the annexed stanza
vizt. : —

The Lord preserve our noble King
And grant to him likewise
The upper hand and victory
Of all his enemies ! — P.

7 force and might.- — P.

8 they were robbed quite.— P.

9 Of men unto them. came. — P.

10 And prefixed; Iewells §~, and that
marked out by P. — F.

11 all our boys, so ShakespT — P.

12 the King.— P.

13 Boing 'gainst. — P. and then deleted.
— F.

14 And bade y™ slay their Prisoners

For to revenge these hurms. — P.

AGINCOURTE BATTELL.

173

160

164

lfi8

172

176

200000 l ffrenchemen our Englishmen had,

some 2, & some had one 2 ;
euerye one was commanded by sound of trumpett

to slay his prisoner then. 3

& then the followed vpon the maine battell ;

the ffrenchmen the fled then 4
towards the citye of Paris

as fast as the 5 might gone.

but then ther was neuer a peere with- in france 6

of all those 7 Nobles then,
of all those worthye Disse peeres,

durst come to 'King Harry 8 then.

but then Katherine, the "Kings fayre daughter there, 9

being proued apparant his heyre,
with her maidens 10 in most sweet attire
to King Harry did repayre ; ' ]

& when shee came before our l2 King,

slice kneeled vpon her knee,
desiring him 13 that his warres wold li cease,

& that l3 he her loue wold bee.

200,000 of

them.

The French
flee towards
Paris,

and no
Duzeper
dares meet
King Harry;

hut the

Princess

Katherine

comes anil
asks him

to marry
her.

180

there- vpon our English Lords then agreed 15

with the Peeres of ffrance then 16 ;
soe he Marryed Katherine, the Kmqs faire daughter, ITc d °es, , "" 1

^ * ° is crowned

& was crowned King in Paris then. 17

ffins.

King in

Paris.

1 10,000.— P. Both men deleted.— F.
4 Some one and some had two. — P.
3 And each was bid by Trumpets sound
To slay his prisoner tho,

(or)
His Prisoner to slo. — P.
! anon. — P. the, 1. 16-!, and $, the and
tip of 1. 161 deleted by P.— F.
s they.— P.

6 Then was there never a Peer in
I'' ranee. Conj. — P.

Then eotdi there nor be found in France
Of their Nobles all or Some. — P.

7 Not one of all those. — P.

8 to K? Harry come. — P.

9 King's Daughter fair, [P.]C— P.

10 all— Maids.— P. then, 1. 169, his,
1. 170, most, 1. 171, marked d by P.— F.

11 Did to our King rep™, [P.]C.— P.

12 our.— P.

13 d.—P.

14 might.— P.

15 Our Ks & — Lords.— P.

,fi Soon with the French agreed. —P.
" So at Paris he fair Kath n . e wed
And crowned was with spec I,— P.

174

Conscience* 1

Theue are two sides to Early English Literature ; one gay, the
other grave ; one light, the other earnest : and a man who comes
to the subject fresh from struggles iu the cause of reform,
social and political, and meets first with the grave and earnest
side of our early writings, is struck with delight and surprise at
finding that in the old days, too, protesters against wrong existed,
and that English writers denounced from the depths of their
soul, in words of sternest indignation, the oppressions and abuses
from which the English poor of their days suffered. Having
passed myself from those Morning Chronicle letters on " Labour
and the Poor " — which in 1849-50 revealed so much of the sad
state of our workmen, — from meetings of sweated tailors, over-
worked bakers, and ballast-heavers forced into drunkenness, to
the pages of Roberd of Brunne's Handlyng Synne, Langlande's
Vision of Piers Ploughman, Piers Ploughman's Crede, and
works of like kind from 1303 to 1560, — I can bear witness to
the deep impression made on me by the noble and fervent spirits
of our early men, rebuking the selfish, denouncing the hard-
hearted, calling down God's judgment on the oppressor ; striving,
in their time too, to leave the land better than they found it.
As one looked backward to these sources of the river of English
life, one heard a great murmur of wrong rise from the torrents'
currents, one saw the stream turbid with the woes of " humble
folk ; " but there were never wanting voices, ordering the one to
be stilled in orderly channels, and the other cleared. Further

' This is a satirical Allegory: and seems not very ancient, vid. St. 13, v. 4. -P.

CONSCIENCE. 175

study of our early writers did not lessen this impression : for
though the bright side came, though Chaucer's living sketches
portrayed all that was merriest in early days, yet still there was
method in his mirth ; abuses in religion and social life were
exposed, none the less effectively because with a joke ; and
when he spoke seriously, he too declared, "Thilke that thay
clepe thralles, ben Groddes people ; for humble folk ben Christ.es
frendes : thay ben contubernially with the Lord : . . . certes,
extorciouns and despit of our undirlinges is dampnable."
(Persones Tale, De avaritia.) To their honour be it said, our
early writers were on the weak man's side against the strong,
and did what in them lay to lessen the vice of the world. It is
this which makes the lovers of them not only surprised, but in-
dignant, at the willing and wilful ignorance in which men of our
day remain with regard to them. Our moderns will not take a
few days' trouble to master their language ; they care little fortheir
thoughts : but when once the readers of the nineteenth — or is it
to be the twentieth ? — century awake to the recognition of the
fact that there is an Early English Literature worth studying, they
will be ashamed of their countrymen's long neglect, and gladly
acknowledge the value of the treasures they will find — food for
all the best impulses of the human soul. So far as I know, justice
has never yet been done to this spirit of our early literature by any
writer on it, except the latest — Professor Morley. He, a man
of mind akin with that of our old men — fresh from half a life
spent in struggles for reform in health-laws, education, politics,
and religion, ever backing the right and fighting the wrong — has
come to the old books and said to them, not only " what were you
translated or altered from, what manuscripts are there of you ? "
but first and mainly, " what do you. 77iean? what has the spirit of
your writer got to say to the spirits of me and men here now ? "
And the old bones (that were nothing more to so many) have
taken flesh again and answered him, have stretched out their hands

1 76 CONSCIENCE.

and gript his as a friend's ; and he has put down their answer for
us in his own way in divers places of his genial and able book, 1
one of which I quote. He is speaking of Grower's Vox Cla-
mantis, written on Wat Tyler's rebellion.

" In that earlier work, though written with vigour and ease in
Latin, the language of literature which alone then seemed to be
lasting, John Grower spoke especially and most essentially the
English mind. To this day we hear among our living country-
men, as w T as to be heard in Grower's time and long before,
the voice passing from man to man that — in spite of admixture
with the thousand defects incident to human character — sustains
the keynote of our literature, and speaks from the soul of our
history the secret of our national success. It is the voice that
expresses the persistent instinct of the English mind to find
out what is unjust among us and undo it, to find out duty to
be done and do it, as Gfod's bidding. We twist religion into
many a mistaken form. With thought free and opinions mani-
fold we have run through many a trial of excess and of its
answering reaction. In battle for main principles we have
worked on through political and social conflicts in which often,
no doubt, unworthy men rising to prominence have misused
for a short time dishonest influence. But there has been no
real check to the great current of national thought, the stream
from which the long line of our English writers, like the trees
by the fertile river-bank, derive their health and strength.
We have seen how persistently that slow and earnest English
labour towards Gfod and the right was maintained for six
centuries before the time of Chaucer, from the day when
Csedmon struck the first note of our strain of English song with
the words : ' For us it is very right that we praise with our
words, love in minds, the Keeper of the Heavens, Glory King of
Hosts.' It was the old spirit still in Chaucer's time that worked
in the 'Vision of Piers Plowman,' and spoke through the Voice
of Grower as of one crying in the wilderness, e Prepare ye the
way of the Lord.' It needed not in those days that a man
should be a Wicliffite to see the griefs of the Church and
people, and to trace them to their root in duties unperformed.
Gower's name is a native one, possibly Cymric, but derived pro-
bably in or near Kent, from the old Saxon word for marsh-

1 English Writers, vol. ii. pt. i. p. 106-7.

CONSCIENCE. 177

country, of which there was much about the Thames mouth,
Gyrwa-land. His genius is unmixed Anglo-Saxon, closely allied
to that of the literature before the Conquest, in the simple ear-
nestness of a didactic manner leavened by no bold originality of
fancy. In his Latin verse Grower writes easily, and, having his
soul in his theme, forcibly. But he tells that which he knows,
and invents rarely. His few inventions also, as of the dream of
transformed beasts that represent Wat Tyler's rabble, of the
ship of the state at sea, of his landing at an island full of turmoil
which an old man described to him as Britain, are contrivances
wanting in the subtlety and the audacity of true imaginative
genius. He does not see as he writes, and so write that all they
who read see with him. But in his own old English or Ansrlo-
Saxon way, he tries to put his soul into his work. Thus, in the
' Vox Clamantis ' we have heard him asking that the soul of his
book, not its form, be looked to ; and speaking the truest English
in such sentences as that 'the eye is blind, and the ear deaf,
that convey nothing down to the heart's depth ; and the heart
that does not utter what it knows is as a live coal under ashes.
If I know little, there may be another whom that little will
help. Poor, I give of my scanty store, for I would rather be of
small use than of none. But to the man who believes in (rod
no power is unattainable if he but rightly feels his work; he
ever has enough whom God increases.' This is the old spirit of
Csedmon and of Bede, in which are laid, while the earth lasts,
the strong foundations of our literature. It was the strength of
such a temper in him that made Grower strong. ' God knows,'
he says again, ' my wish is to be useful ; that is the prayer that
directs my labour.' And while he thus touches the root of his
country's philosophy, the form of his prayer that what he has
written may be what he would wish it to be, is still a thoroughly
sound definition of good English writing. His prayer is that
there may be no word of untruth, and that 'each word may
answer to the thing it speaks of, pleasantly and fitly ; that he
may flatter in it no one, and seek in it no praise above the praise
of Grod. Give me,' he asks, ' that there shall be less vice and
more virtue for my speaking.' "

So far as regards the spirit of our early literature, I believe
that Professor Morley is justified in every word that he has said.
Granted the occasional coarseness of expressions in it to us,
granted many another shortcoming, the spirit of it is noble and

vol. n. N

178 CONSCIENCE.

worthy of honour, as its words are worthy of study, by every
Englishman.

The present poem, Conscience, is one effort, a late one, in the
strain of that " slow and earnest labour towards God and the
right " of which Professor Morley speaks. Differing as it does
in word and form from the Ayenbite of Inwyt (or Remorse of.
Conscience) which Dan Michel of North Gate, " ane brother of
the cloystre of saynt Austin of Canterburi," fulfilled in the
year of our lordes bearing, 1340, it has yet the same aim,

fris boc is y write

uor englisse men, J»et hi wyte (may learn)

hou hi ssolle ham-zelue ssriue,

and maki ham klene ine Juse Hue.

With Richard Rolle of Hampole in 1345 (or thereabouts), its
writer desires that by his Pricke of Conscience men may

Be stird J?ar-by til ryghtwyse way,
J?at es, tille \>e way of gude lyfyng,
And at \>e last be broght til gude endyng. (p. 258, 1. 9611.)

With Langlande, our Conscience tries the Court, the Lawyers,
the Landlords, the Merchants, the Clergy ; and all he finds in
the possession of his enemies. Covetousness, Lechery, Usury,
Avarice, and Pride have their way with all ; the husbandmen are
left desolate so that they cannot help the poor, and Conscience is
driven out to lodge in the wood, and eat hips and haws, his only
comforters being Mercy, Pity, and Almsdeeds. In early times
Langlande's Conscience fared better : he got the King on his
side ; stood his ground well ; reproved Mede or Bribery ; brought
sinners to repentance, sent them seeking for truth, and remained
master of the situation. (See Langlande' 's Vision of Piers
the Ploughman, ed. Skeat, E. E. Text Soc. 1867, Passus 3-5.)

A contrast of the different evils complained of by reforming
writers in different ages, and the comparative prominence given
to each vice by each writer, could not fail to bring out the cha-

CONSCIENCE. 179

racteristics of the successive periods of our social history, and
he of great interest. But though I have some material for it,
want of space forbids my attempting it here. Still, the point
may be illustrated by looking at the clergy's hinderers in their
good work of giving, as mentioned in the present poem,

for their wiues & their children soe hange them vpon,
that whosoeuer giues alines deeds they will giue none,

when set beside Eoberd of Brunne's complaints, in his Handlyng
Synne, about the priest's mare or concubine, and the earlier one
of the Old English Homilies (? about 1200 a.d.) that Mr.
Richard Morris will edit, probably in 1869, for the Early English
Text Society :

And oftre fele lerdemen speken alse lewede alse ure drihten seide
burn anes prophetes mu6e. Erit sicitt populus sacerdos. Prest sal
leden his lif alse lewede mam . and sw r o hie dot? nuSe '. and sumdel
werse. For J>e lewede man wuroec5 his spuse mid cloSes more fane mid
him seluen. and prest naht sis ( = so his) chireche, ]>e is his spuse '
ac his dale, ]>e is his hore . awlencS hire mid clones . more ]>an him
seluen. De chirche clones ben to-brokene ' and ealde . and his
wines shule ben hole l . and new T e . His alter cloS great and sole '■ and
hire chemise smal and hwit . and te albe sol ' and hire smoc hwit.
pe haned-line sward ' and hire wimpel wit . oSer maked geleu mid
safFran. De meshakele of medeme fustain . and hire mentel grene
oSer burnet. De corporeals sole! and unshapliche . hire handcloSes .
and hire bord clones maked wite and lustliche on to siene. De caliz
of tin i and hire nap of mazere and ring of gokle. And is ]>e prest
swo muchele forcuoere . ]>ane ]>e lewede. Swo he w T uroeS his hore
more ]>an his spuse. — Homilies in Trinity Coll. MS. a.d. 1200.

Translation uy Mr. HicTia/rd Moitis.

And many other learned men speak as the unlearned, as our Lord
spake through the mouth of a prophet, Erit sicitt, 8fc. The priest
shall lead his life as the laity; and so they do now, and somewhat
Avorse, for the layman honoureth his spouse with clothes more than
himself, and the priest not so his church, which is his spouse; but
his day (maid servant), who is his whore, whom he adorneth with
clothes more than himself. The church cloths are ragged and old,

x 2

180 CONSCIENCE.

and his woman's shall be whole and new. His altar cloth great
(coarse) and dirty (soiled), and her chemise small and white ; and
the alb soiled, and her smock white ; the head linen black, and
her wimple (neck-cloth) white, or made yellow with saffron. The
masscloth of paltry fustian, and her mantle green or bnrnet ; the
corporas soiled and badly made, her band-cloths and her table-
cloths made white and pleasant to the sight. The chalice of tin, and
her cup of maser (a sort of hard wood gilded or inlaid with jewels),
and her ring of gold ; and so the priest is much worse than the laity
for he honoureth his whore more than his spouse.

On the question of the rents asked by grasping landlords, I
may quote a passage from Ascham used in the Forewords to The
Babees Boke, &c. (E. E. T. Soc, 1868).

" He says to the Duke of Somerset on Nov. 21, 1547 {Works,
ed. Giles, i. 140-1),

" ' Qui auctores sunt tanta? miserise ? . . . Sunt illi qui hodie
passim, in Anglia, pradia monasteriorum gravissimis annuis
reditibus auxerunt. Hinc omnium rerum exauctum pretium ; hi
homines expilant totam rempublicam. Villici et coloni universi
laborant, parcunt, corradunt, ut istis satisfaciant. . . Hinc tot
familise dissipatse, tot domus collapsae . . Hinc, quod omnium
miserrimum est, nobile illud decus et robur Angliae, nomen, in-

quam, Yomanorum Anglorum, fractum et collisum est

Nam vita, qu.e nunc vivitur a plurimis, non vita, sed miseria

EST.'

(When will these words cease to be true of our land ? They
should be burnt into all our hearts.) "

Harrison, in 1577, speaks more easily about rents, and as he
deals also with the question of Usury or Interest noted in our
poem, I make a long quotation from his Description of England,
a book invaluable to the student of the England of Shakespeare's
days, and which I hope we shall soon reprint in the Extra Series
of our Early English Text Society. Harrison is speaking of the
" Three things greatlie amended in England " in his day :'"(1.)
Chimnies; (2.) Hard lodging; (3.) Furniture of household,"
and of the latter says :

The third thing they tell of, is the exchange of vessell, as of

CONSCIENCE. 181

treene platters into pewter, and woodden spoones into siluer or tin.
For so common were all sorts of treene stuffe in old time, that a man
should hardlie find foure peeces of pewter (of which one was perad-
uenture a salt) in a good farmer's house, and yet for all this frugalitie l
(if it may so be iustly called) they were scarse able to Hue and paie
their rents at their daies without selling of a cow, or an horsse, or
more, although they paid but foure pounds at the vttermost by the
yeare. Such also Avas their pouertie, that if some one od farmer or
husbandman had beene at the alehouse, a thing greatlie vsed in those
daies, amongst six or seuen of his neighbours, and there in a brauerie
to shew what store he had, did cast downe his pursse, and therein a
noble or six shillings in siluer vnto them (for few such men then
cared for gold bicause it was not so readie paiment, and they were
oft inforced to giue a penie for the exchange of an angell) it was
verie likelie that all the rest could not laie downe so much against it :
whereas in my time, although peraduenture foure pounds of old rent
be improued to fortie, fiftie, or an hundred pounds, yet will the
farmer (as another palme or date tree) thinke his gaines verie small
toward the end of his terme, if he haue not six or seuen yeares
rent lieng by him, therewith to purchase a new lease, beside a faire
garnish of pewter on his cupbord, with so much more in od vessell
o-oing about the house, three or foure featherbeds, so manie couerlids
and carpets of tapistrie, a siluer salt, a bowle for wine (if not an
whole neast) and a dozzen of spoones to furnish vp the sute. This
also he taketh to be his owne cleere, for what stocke of monie
soeuer he gathereth & laieth vp in all his yeares, it is often seene,
that the landlord will take such order with him for the same, when
he renueth his lease, which is commonlie eight or six yeares before the
old be expired (sith it is now growen almost to a custome, that if he
come not to his lord so long before, another shall step in for a reuer-
sion, and so defeat him out right) that it shall neuer trouble him more
than the haire of his beard, when the barber hath washed and
shauen it from his chin. And as they commend these, so (beside the
decaie of housekeeping whereby the poore haue beene relieued) they
speake also of three things that are growen to be verie grieuous vnto
them to wit, the inhansing of rents, latelie mentioned ; the dailie
oppression of copiholders, whose lords seeke to bring their poore
tenants almost into plaine seruitude and miserie, daily deuising new
meanes, and seeking vp all the old how to cut them shorter and

1 The sidenote here is " This was in the time of generall idlenesse."

182 CONSCIENCE.

shorter, doubling, trebling, and now & tlien seuen times increasing
their fines, drilling them also for euerie trifle to loose and forfeit their
tenures (by whome the greatest part of the realme dooth stand and is
mainteined) to the end they may fleece them yet more, which is a
lamentable hering. The third thing they talke of is vsurie, a trade
brought in by the Iewes, now perfectlie practised almost by euerie
christian, and so commonlie, that he is accompted but for a foole
that dooth lend his monie for n,o thing. In time past it was Sorspro
sorte, that is, the principall onelie for the principall ; but now beside
that which is aboue the principall properlie called Vsura, we chalenge
Fcenus, that is commoditie of soile, & fruits of the earth, if not the
ground it selfe. In time past also one of the hundred was much,
from thence it rose vnto two, called in Latine Vsura, Ex sextante ;
three, to wit Ex quadrante ; then to foure, to wit Ex triente ; then to
fiue, which is Ex quincunce ; then to six, called Ex semisse, &c. : as
the accompt of the Assis ariseth, and comming at the last vnto
Vsura ex asse, it amounteth to twelue in the hundred, and therefore
the Latines call it Centesima, for that in the hundred moneth it
doubleth the principall ; but more of this elsewhere. See Cicero
against Verres, Demosthenes against Aphobus, and Atlienceus lib. 13. in
fine : and when thou hast read them well, hclpe I praie thee in
lawfull maner to hang vp such as take Centum pro cento, 1 for they are
no better worthie, as I doo iudge in conscience. Forget not also such
landlords as vse to value their leases at a secret estimation giuen of
the wealth and credit of the taker, whereby they seeme (as it were)
to eat them vp and deale with bondmen, so that if the leassee be
thought to be worth an hundred pounds, he shall paie no lesse for his
new terme, or else another to enter with hard and doubtfull couenants.
I am sorie to report it, much more greeued to vnderstand of the
practise ; but most sorowfull of all to vnderstand that men of great
port and countenance are so farre from suffering their farmers to haue
anie gaine at all, that they themselues become grasiers, butchers,
tanners, sheepmasters, woodmen, and denique quid non, thereby to
inrich themselues, and bring all the wealth of the countrie into their
owne hands, leauing the communaltie weake, or as an idoll with
broken or feeble armes, which may in a time of peace haue a plau-
sible shew, but when necessitie shall inforce, haue an heauie and
bitter sequele. — Holinshed, vol. i. p. 188-189, ed. 1586.

The date of the poem I cannot pretend to fix. " The new-
found land" of 1. 91—

1 " By the yeare " is the sidenote.

CONSCIENCE. 183

We banisht thee the country beyond the salt sea,
& sett thee on shore in the new-found land —

cannot refer, I think, to the re-discovery of Newfoundland by
John Cabot, then in the service of England, on the 24th of
June, 1497 {Penny Cycl.). The date must be later than that.

The first three stanzas of the poem, which should contain
twenty-one lines, in the Manuscript (which is written without
divisions) contain only eighteen lines. Mr. Skeat has sent me
two arrangements of them, of which the following seems the
right one :

As I walked of late by one wood side,

to god for to meditate was my entent,
where vnder a hawthorne I suddenly espyed

a silly poore creature ragged & rent,

with bloody teares his face was besprent,
his fieshe & his color consumed away,
& his garments they were all mire, mucke, & clay ;

■with turning & winding his bodye was toste,

* * * * *

******

*****
" good lord ! of my liffe depriue me, I pray,
for I, silly wretch, am ashamed of my name ;
& I cursse my godfathers that gaue me the same."

this made me muse & much desire

to know what kind of man hee shold bee ;
I stept to him straight, and did him require

his name & his secretts to shew vnto me.

his head he cast vp, & wooful was hee,
"my name," qwoth hee, " is the causer of my care,
& makes me scornd, & left here soe bare." — F.

As : I walked of late by one 1 wood side,

As I walked

2 to god for to meditate was my entent, meditate,

where vnder a hawthorne I suddenly espyed x spied

4 a silly poore creature ragged & rent ; a poor

1 an. — P. 2 perhaps On God. — P.

184

CONSCIENCE.

ragged
creature

mired all

over.

He wished

himself dead,

his name
caused his
trouble.

I asked him
to tell it me.

with bloody teares his face was besprent,
his fleshe & his color consumed away ;

1 with turning & winding his bodye was toste,
8 & his garments they were all mire, mucke, & clay.
" good lord ! of my liffe depriue me, I pray,

for I, silly wretch, am ashamed of my name !
2 my name, " quoth hee, " is the causer of my care,
12 & I cursse my godfathers that gaue me the same ! "

this made me muse, & much desire

to know what kind of man hee shold bee ; 3

I stept to him straight, & did him require
16 his name & his secretts to shew vnto me. [page 244]
his head he cast vp, & wooful was hee, 4

[" My name," quoth hee, is the causer of my care,]

& makes me scornd, & left 5 here soe bare."

then straight- way he turnd him & prayd him 6 sit
dow[ne]
He said his 20 " & I will," saithe he, " declare my whole greefe.

name was • n -1 /-< • . ,

Conscience. m y name is called Conscience ;>" wheratt he did

fro[wne]
he pined to repeate it, & grinded his teethe.

When young for while I was young & tender of yeeres,

24 I was entertained with Kings 8 & with. Peeres,

1 This verse is redundant. — P.

2 To come in below. — P.

3 Percy, in his Eeliques, omits three of
these lines, and transfers line 11 to
line 1 8, where it must be, at least, re-
peated, without notice to the reader. The
bishop warns his readers in his second
and later editions that some corruptions
in the old copy are here corrected, but not
without notice to the reader, where it
was necessary, by inclosing the correc-
tions between inverted ' commas.' He
must have therefore thought the omission

of lines 9, 10, and 12, a correction not
necessary to be noticed. — P.

4 The verse

[" my name " qwoth hee, " is the causer of

my care,"]
to come in here. — P.

5 The /is like an/ in the MS.— F.

6 me. — P.

7 Thoughe now silly wretche, I'm

deny'd all relief,
Yet . . . — Beliqucs.

8 kinges. — Bel.

CONSCIENCE.

185

'' there was ttone in all ' the court that lined in such
fame ;

for with the Ts.in.gs councell he sate 2 in Commission ;
Dukes Erles & Barrons esteemed of my name ;

& how that I liued there needs no repetition ;

I was euer holden in honest condition ;
for howsoeuer the lawes went in Westminster hall,
when sentence was giuen, for me the wold 3 call.

he was

honoured

by Dukes

and in Law
Courts.

Landlords
obeyed him ;

32 " noe Incombes 4 at all the landlord wold take,
but one pore peny, that was their fine,
& that they acknowledged to be for my sake ;

the poore wold doe nothing without councell mine ; the poor
36 I ruld the world with the right line ;

for nothing that was 5 passed betweene foe & freind,
but Conscience was called to bee at an 6 end.

the world,

"noe Merchandize nor bargaines the Merchants wold and

merchants.

ma[ke],
40 but I was called a wittenesse therto ;

no vse 7 for noe mony, nor forfett wold take,
but I wold controwle them if that they did soe ;
that makes me Hue now in great woe,
44 for then came in pride, Sathans disciple,

that now is 8 entertaind with 9 all kind of people ;

Xo usury
was prac-
tised.

" Then came
in Pride,

he brought with him 3, whose names they be these, 10 covetous-
that is couetousnes, Lechery e, vsury, 11 beside; Lechery, and

48 they neuer preuailed till they had 12 wrought my who over-

threw me.

downe-tall.

1 all omitted. — 2?< I.

2 I sate.— P.

3 they wold.— P.

4 Incomes. — P.

5 (that was) seem redundant. — P.

6 the.— P.

7 interest. — P.

8 is now. — Eel. 9 of. — P.

10 thus they call. — Eel.

11 ' & pride ' was added here in the MS.,
then struck out with a heavy ink stroke,
the acid of which has eaten the paper
away. — F.

12 had omitted. — Eel.

186

CONSCIENCE.

I tried
abroad,

soe pride was entertained, but Conscience was
deride. 1

yet st[i]ll 2 abroad baue 3 I tryed
to bane bad entertainment with some one or otber,
but I am reiected & scorned of my brother.

then the
Court ;

but was told
to pack off to
St. Bartholo-
mew's.

" then went I to the 4 court, the gallants to winn,

but the porter kept me out of the gates,
to Bartlwew 5 spittle, to pray for my sinnes, 6
56 they bad 7 me goe packe me ; it was fitt for my state ;
"goe, goe, threed-bare conscience, & seeke thee a
mate ! "
good Lore 7 - ! long preserue my ~K.ing, Pirince, & Queene,
with whom euer more I haue esteemed 8 beene !

Next I tried
London,
but they

sent me off
too.

60 " then went I to london, where once I did wonne, 9

but they bade away with me when the knew my
name ;
" for he will vndoe vs to bye & to sell,"

they bade me goe packe me, & bye me for shame,
64 they lought at my raggs, & there had good game ;

"this is old threed-bare Conscience that dwelt with

St. Peete[r] ;
but they wold not admitt me to be a chimney sweeper.

I spent my
last penny
in an awl and
patches to
cobble shoes,

" not one wold receiue me, the Jjord god doth know.
68 I, hauing but one poore pennye in my pursse,
of an aule 10 & some patches I did it bestow ;

I thought better to u cobble shooes then to doe worsse.

1 perhaps decried. — P.

2 now ever since. — Bel.

3 Only half the u in the MS.— P.

4 the omitted. — Bel.

5 Bartlemew. — Bel.

6 Sin.— P.

7 me omitted in 1? ed?, restored in

2"?— Bel.

8 esteemed I've. — P. I ever esteemed
have. — Bel.

3 perhaps dwell, (idem) — P. dwell.
Bel.

10 On an awl. — P.

11 For I thought better.— Bel.

CONSCIENCE.

is;

straight then all they * Coblers they began to cursse, but the

cobblers

72 & by statute the wold proue me 2 I -was a rouge. & whiptmeout

_ _ of the town.

forlor|ne,J
& they whipt 3 me out of towne to see 4 where I was
borne.

" then did I remember & call to my minde

they court 5 of conscience where once I did sit,

not doubting but there some favor I shold find,
for 6 my name & the place agreed soe fitt.
but therof my 7 purpose I fayled a whitt,

for the 8 iudge did vse my name in euerye condic/on 9

for Lawyers with their qu[i]lletts ,0 wold get a 11
dismission.

I tried the
Court of
Conscience,

but there the
lawyers
wheedled me
out.

" then Westminster hall was noe place for me ; Then i went

good god ! 12 how the Lawyers began to assemblee ; sterHaii,

and the

& fearfull they were lest there I shold be ! lawyers

84 the silly poore clarkes began to tremblee ; l3

I showed them my cause, & did not dissemble,
soe then they gaue me some mony my charges to beare, gave me
but they 14 swore me on a booke Imust neuercome there, butmade me

swear to go.

88 "then 15 the Merchants said, ' counterfeite, get thee The mer-
chants too
away, rejected me,

dost thou remember how wee thee found ? 1G
we banisht thee the country beyond the salt sea,
& sett thee on shore in the new-found land, 17

the.— P.

(I was) clelend. — P.

And whipp. — Bel.

seeke. — Bel.

The court.— P.

Sith. — Bel.

there of my. — P. sure of my. — Bel.

usd. — Bel.

For tho' — coiiiission. — P.

10 The Lawyers — quillets.

11 raj.— Bel.

12 lord.— Bel.

13 tremble.— Eel.

14 they omitted. — Bel.
' 5 Next.— Bel.

1U fond.— Bel.

17 loud.— P. land.— Bel.

188

CONSCIENCE.

92 & there thow & wee most freinclly shook hands ; ]
& we were verry 2 glad when thou did refuse vs,
for when we wold reape proffitt heere 3 thou wold 4
accuse vs.'

so I had to
go to Gentle-
men'shouses,
and tell them
I had made
their fore-
fathers grant
just leases.

They cursed
me.

" then had I noe way but for to goe an 5
96 to gentlemens houses of an ancyent name,

declaring my greeffes ; & there I made moane, [page 245]
& 6 how there 7 forfathers had held me in fame,
& in letting of their ffarmes I alwayes vsed the same. 8
100 the sayd, " fye vpon thee ! we may thee cursse !
they haue leases 9 continue, & we fare the worsse."

At last I was
driven to
husband-
men ;
but land-
lords had left
them no-
thing to give
away ;

so I am in
this wood,
and eat hips
and haws,

but am
comforted
by Mercy,
Pity, and
Almsdeeds.

104

" & then I was forced a begging to goe

to husbandsmens houses ; who greeved right sore,
who sware that their Landlords had plaged them so

sore

that they were not able to keepe open doore,
nor nothing the n had left to giue to the pore,
therfore to this wood I doe repayre
108 with, hepps & hawes ; that is my best fare.

" & yet within this same desert some comfort I haue

of Mercy, of pittye, & of almes-deeds,
who haue vowed to company me to my 12 graue.
112 wee are ill 13 put to silence, & Hue vpon weeds ; 14

our banishment is their vtter decay,

the w/w'ch the rich glutton will answer one day."

1 hond.-— P.

2 right. — Ret.

3 proffitt heere omitted. — Eel.

4 woldst.— Bel.

5 on.— Bel.

6 Telling.— Bel.
' their.— P.

8 And at letting their farmes how
always I came. — Bel.

9 their leases, i. e. the indulgent Leases
let by our forefathers. — P.

10 soe.— Bel.

11 (the) redundflMt. — P.

12 ny in the MS. — P.

13 all.— Bel.

14 and hence such cold housekeeping
proceeds. — Bel.

CONSCIENCE. 189

'why then," I said to him, " methinkes it were best "Go to the
116 to goe to the Clergee ; for dealye 1 the preach i.

eche man to loue you aboue all the rest ;

of mercy & of Pittie & of almes they doe 2 teach."

"0," said he, "no matter of a pin what they doe ifdbe

good ; their
preacn, wives and

120 for their wiues & their children soe hangs them vpon, their giving.
that whosoeuer giues almes deeds 3 they will 4 giue
none."

then Laid he him downe, & turned him away,

prayd 5 me to goe & leaue him to rest,
124 I told him I might happen to 6 see the day

to haue 7 him & his fellowes to hue with the best ; Banish
8 " first," said hee, " you must banish pride, & then England

will be blest.

ail Lnglancl were blest, 9
& I0 then those wold loue vsthatnow sells 11 their lands, 12
128 & then good houses euerye where wold be kept 13 out of
hand."
ffins.

1 daily.— P. 8 This line written as two in the MS.

2 doe omitted. — Bel. — F.

3 deeds omitted. — Bel. 9 First stud he, banish Pryde : Then

4 It ought in justice and Truth to be all Engl«wd were blest. — P. These make
" can."— P. two lines in the MS.— F.

5 And prayd.— Bel. ,0 For.— Bel.

6 haplie might yet. — Rd. " sell. — Bel.

7 For.-7W. I2 land.— P.

13 house-keeping wold revive. — Bel.

190

23url)am ffriitst, 1

Says Shakespeare's Henry V. :

You s]jall read, that my grandfather
Never went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot on his unfurnisht kingdom
Came pouring, like a tide into a breach,
With ample and brim-fullness of his force ;
Galling the gleaned land with hot assays ;
Girdling, with grievous siege, castles and towns,
That England being empty of defence
Hath shook and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood.

Perhaps the best account of the expedition celebrated in the
following ballad is given by Fordun. " The local accuracy,"
observes Surtees, " with which Fordun describes the advance of
the English army from Auckland, .... infers that his account
must have been received from eye-witnesses." Other accounts
are furnished by Knighton, Walsingham, Froissart. Harl MS.
No. 4843 contains an ancient monkish poem on it.

The confidence of the Scotch King is amusingly represented
in the First Part of the ballad.

Oddly enough, nothing is said of the Queen, who, though
probably Froissart exaggerates the part she played, yet was
certainly not remote from the scene of the conflict. One would
have expected her presence to have been made much of by the
ballad-writer.

John Copeland, who captured the King, was a Northumbrian
esquire. He was afterwards Governor of Berwick and Sheriff of
Northumberland.

1 Fought Oct 1 : 17, 1346, at St, Nevil's inrode (sic) into England by the Scotts,

Cross, near Durham. " An excellent" & the taking of their King, while

[half scratched out]. — P. Edward 3? was in France. — P.

Old Ballad. The Subject is the

EURHAM FEILDE.

191

LORDINGES, listen, & hold yo[u] » still

hearken to me a litle ;
I shall you tell of the fairest battell

that euer in England beffell.

Listen,

and I'll tell
you of a fair
battle.

for as it befell in Edward the 3 d f dayes, 2

in England, where he ware the crowne,
then all the cheefe chiualry of England
8 they busked 3 & made them bowne 4 ;

When Ed-
ward III.
was king,

all his
knights

they chosen all the best archers

that in England might be found,
and all was to fight with the Kmg of ffrance
12 wt'thin a litle stounde. 5

and archers

went to fight
the French.

and when our ~Kmg was ouer the water,

and on the salt sea gone,
then ty dings into Scotland came
16 that all England was gone ;

Then the
Scotch hear

bowes and arrowes they were all forth,

at home was not left a man G
but shepards and Millers both,
20 & preists with shauen crownes.

that no men
are left in
England

but millers
and priests.

then the King of Scotts in a study stood,
as he was a man of great might ;

he sware ' he wold hold his
London
if he cold ryde there right.'

The Scotch
king

Parlame^i! in leeue 7 swears he'll

ride to
London.

1 ? MS. ; it may be yo. — F.
- when Edward the 3<J — P.
: ' See P. 397, st. 46. (of MS.)— P.
1 bourne, paratus, L. — P.
s Stownd, sigmim, momentum, spa-
tium, hora, tempus. Lye. — P.

6 mon.— P. See vol. i. p. 217, 1. 109.
— F.

' Lceve, perhaps the same as leef,
lief, leif, dear, beloved — A.-S. leofa, belg.
lief. Teut. lieb, charus, amicus, gratus.
Gloss? to Gaw" Douglas.— P.

192

DURHAM FEILDE.

A squire

tells him he'll
rue his
resolve,

then bespake a Squier of Scottlancl borne,

& sayd, " my leege, apace,
before you come to leeue London
28 full sore youle rue that race !

" ther beene bold yeomen in merry England,

husbandmen stiffe & strong ;
sharpes swords they done weare,

bearen bowes & arrowes longe."

for which
the King

kills him,

so no one else
dares say a
word.

James tells
the Earl of
Angus to
lead the van,

and promises
him North-
umberland.

To the Earl
of Buohan he
promises

Derbyshire ;

the "King was angry e at that word,

a long sword out hee drew,
and there befor his royall companye
36 his owne squier hee slew.

hard hansell had the Scottes that day

that wrought them woe enoughe,
for then durst not a Scott speake a word
40 ffor hanging att a boughe,

" the Earle of Anguish, 1 where art thou ?

in my coate armor 2 thou shalt bee,
and thou shalt lead the forward 3
44 thorrow the English countrye.

" take thy 4 yorke," then sayd the King,

" in stead wheras it doth stand ;
He make thy eldest sonne after thee
48 heyre of all Northumberland.

" the Earle 5 of Vaughan, 6 where be yee ?

in my coate armor thou shalt bee ;
the high Peak & darbyshire
52 I giue it thee to thy fee."

[page 246]

1 Earl of Angus.— P. d in the MS.— F.

- Cote-Armour. A name applied to * thee, i.e. to thee. — P.

the tabard by Chaucer and others. 5 The I is made over an e. — F.

Fairholt. — F. 6 It sho?dd be Baughan, i. e. Buehan.

3 vaward. — P. There is a tag to the — P.

DUIWAM FE1LDE.

then came in famous Douglas,

saies, " what shall my meede bee ?
& He lead the vawward, 1 Lord,
56 thorow the English countrye."

" take thee Worster," sayd the "King,

"Tuxburye, 2 Killingworth, Burton vpon trent ;
doe thou not say another day
60 but I haue giuen thee lands and rent.

" Sir Richard of Edenborrow, where are yee ?

a wise man in this warr !
He giue thee Bristow & the shire
64 the time that wee come there.

" my Jjord Nevill, where beene yee ?

you must in this warres bee !
Be giue thee Shrewsburye," saies the K.ing,
68 "and Couentrye faire & free.

" my LorcZ of Hambleton, where art thou ?

thou art of my kin full nye ;
Be giue thee lincolne & Lincolneshire,
72 & thats enouge for thee."

by then came in William Douglas

as breeme 3 as any bore ;
he kneeled him downe vpon his knees,
76 in his hart he sighed sore,

saies, " I haue serued you, my louelye leege,

this 30 winters and 4,
& in the Marches 4 betweene England & Scottland
80 I haue beene wounded & beaten sore ;

193

to 1 louglas,

Wor<>

to Sir
Richard of
Edinburgh,

Bristol and
its shire ;

to Lord
Nevill,

Shrewsbury

and Coven-
try ;

to Lord
Hambleton,

Lincoln-
shire.

William
Douglas

reminds the
King of his
long services,

1 i. e. the Van, the Vanguard. Fr. avant-
guarde. L. — P.

2 qu. MS.— F.

3 hreme, ferox, atrox, cruel, sharp,
severe. Lye. — P,

VOL. II.

4 Marches, confinia, limites, alicujus

territorii : refer ad Mark Scut is.

March, a landmark, &c. Vid. Lye, ad
Jim.— P.

194

DURHAM FEILDE.

and asks
what his re-
ward is to be.

" for all the good service that I haue done,

what shall my meed bee ?
& I will lead the vanward

thorrow the English conntrye."

" AVhatever

you ask,"

answers

James.

" Then I ask

for London."

" aske on, donglas," said the King,

" & granted it shall bee."
" why then, I aske litle London," saies William
Donglas,

" gotten giff that it bee."

James
refuses that,

the K«j was wrath, and rose away,

saies, " nay, that cannot bee !
for that I will keepe for my cheefe chamber,
92 gotten if it bee ;

but gives
Douglas N.
Wales and
Cheshire,

" bnt take thee North wales & weschaster,

the cnntrye all round about,
& rewarded thou shalt bee,
96 of that take thou noe doubt."

makes 100
new knights

and gives
them the
English
towns.

100

5 score ~knights he made on a day,
& dubbd them with, his hands ;

rewarded them right worthilye

with the townes in merry England.

They make
ready for
battle,

& when the fresh "knights they were made,

to battell the buske them bowne ; l
lames Douglas went before,
104 & he thought to haue wonnen him shoone.

but the
English
Commons
meet them,
and let none
escape ;

but the were mett in a morning of May

with the coniminaltye of litle England ;
but there scaped neuer a man away
108 through the might of christes hand,

1 See Page 397, st. 46 [of MS.].— P.

DURHAM FEILDE.

195

112

but all onely lames Douglas ;

in Durham in the ffeild
an arrow stroke him in the thye.

fast flinge[s he] towards the ~King.

the Kmg looked toward litle Durham,

saies, " all things is not well !
for lames Dowglas beares an arrow in his thye,
116 the head of it is of Steele.

except
Dougla ;,

■who is
wounded
and flees to
the King.

"how now lames ? " then said the YLing,

" how now, how may this bee ?
& where beene all thy merrymen
120 That thou tooke hence With thee ? "

James asks
where his
men are.

[page 247]

" but cease, my K%," saies lames l Douglas,

" aliue is not left a man ! "
"now by my faith," saies the l&ng of scottes,
124 " that gate 2 was euill gone ;

All dead.
James vows

" but He reuenge thy quarrell well,

& of that thou may be fame ;
for one Scott will beate 5 Englishmen
128 if the meeten them on the plaine."

revenge ;

one Scot is a
match for
five English.

" now hold jour tounge," saies lames Douglas,

" for in faith that is not soe ;
for one English man is worth 5 Scotts
132 when they meeten together thoe ;

" for they are as Egar men to fight

as a faulcon vpon a pray,
alas ! if eue>- the wirme the van ward,
136 there scapes noe man away."

" No," says
Douglas,

" one Eng-
lishman is
worth five
Scots ;

they let no
one escape
alive."

1 lanes in the MS.— F.

2 gate, via a way : march or walk. Lye. — P.

o 2

196

DURHAM FEILDE.

A herald
reports to
James

" peace thy talking," said the King,

" they bee but English knanes,
but shepards & Millers both,
140 & [mass] preists with their staues."

the King sent forth one of his heralds of armes

to vew the Englishmen,
"be of good cheere," the herald said,

that he has

English one, 144 " for against one wee bee ten."

" who leades those Ladds ? " said the King of Scottes,

"thou herald, tell thou mee."
the herald said, " the Bishopp of Durham
148 is captaine of that company e ;

whom the
Bishop of
Durham
leads.

for the Bishopp hath spred the Kings banner

& to battell he buskes him bowne,"
" I sweare by St. Andrewes bones," saies the King,
152 "He rapp that preist on the crowne ! "

James sees

Lord Percy
in the field.

156

2') part<(

160

[Part II.]

"The King looked towards litle Durham,

& that hee well beheld,
that the Earle Percy was well armed,

with his battell axe entred the feild.

the King looket againe towards litle Durham,

4 ancyents there see hee ;
there were to standards, 6 in a valley,

he cold not see them with his eye.

There, too,
are Lords
York, Car-
lisle,

andtwoFitz-
williams.

My Lord of yorke was one of them,
my lord of Carlile was the other ;
& my Lord fnuwilliams,
164 the one came with the other.

DTK HAM FEILDE.

the Bishopp of Durham commanded his men,

& shortlye he them bade,
' that neuer a man shold goe to the feild to fight

168

till he had serued his god.'

197

The Bishop

orders all his

men

to hear mass.

500 preists said masse that day

in durham in the feild ;
& afterwards, as I hard say,
172 they bare both speare & sheeld.

500 priests
say it,

and then
take arms,

the Bishopp of Durham * orders himselfe to fight

with his battell axe in his hand ;
he said, " this day now I will fight
176 as long as I can stand ! "

as does the
Bishop.

" & soe will I," sayd my Lore? of Carlile,

" in this faire morning gay ; "
" & soe will I," said my Lore? fliuwilliams,
180 " for Mary, that myld may."

Carlisle

and the
Fitzwilliams
swear to
fight.

our English archers bent their bowes

shortlye and anon,
they shott oner the Scottish Oast
184 & scantlye 2 toucht a man.

Our archers
first

shoot too
hkrh.

" hold downe jour hands," sayd the Bishopp of Durham, The Bishop

orders them

" my archers good & true."
the 2^ shoote that the shott,
188 full sore the Scottes itt rue.

to shoot low.

They do,
and punish
tlir Scots,

the Bishopp of Durham spoke on hye

that both partyes might heare,
"be of good cheere, my merrymen all,
192 the Scotts flyen, & changen there cheere ! "

1 Durban in IMS.— F.

2 scantly, scarcely. — P.

198

DURHAM FEILDE.

who fall in
heaps.

196

but as the saidden, soe the didden,

they fell on heapes hye ;
our Englishmen laid on with their bowes

as fast as they might dree.

King James

is shot
through the
nose,

1 The King of Scotts in a studye stood

amongst his companye,
an arrow stoke him thorrow the nose
200 & thorrow his armorye.

[page 248]

gets off his
horse,

the ~King went to a marsh side

& light beside his steede,
he leaned him downe on his sword hilts
204 to let his nose bleede.

and is sum-
moned to
yield by an
English
yeoman ,
Copland.

James
refuses,

and strikes
at Copland,

there followed him a yeaman of merry England,

his name was lohn of Coplande :
"yeeld thee Traytor ! " saies Coplande then,
208 " thy liffe lyes in my hand."

" how shold I yeeld me ? " sayes the King,

" & thou art noe gentleman."
"noe, by my troth," sayes Copland there,
212 "I am but a poore yeaman ;

" what art thou better then I, Sir King ?

tell me if that thou can !
what art thou better then I, Sir King,
216 now we be but man to man ? "

the King smote angerly at Copland then,

angerly in that stonde 2 ;
& then Copland was a bold yeaman,

who floors 220 & bore the King to the ground.

1 Here a short leaf is inserted in the small one of most of his notes. — P.
MS. in a more modern hand, Percy's late 2 stound. — ? Percy.

upright hand, differing from the early

DURHAM FEILDE.

199

he sett the King upon a Palfrey,

himselfe upon a steede,
he tooke him by the bridle rayne,
224 towards London he can him Lead.

puts him on
a palfrey.

and takes
him to
London,

& when to London that he came,

the King from ffrance was new come home,
& there unto the Kmg of Scottes
228 he sayd these words anon,

where King
Edward is.

" how like you my shepards & my millers,

my priests With shaven crownes ? ' :
"by my fayth, they are the sorest fighting men
232 that ever I mett on the ground ;

" there was never a yeaman in merry England

but he was worth a Scottish knight ! "
"I, by my troth," said King Edward, & laughe,
236 " for you fought all against the right."

Edward nsks
James how

he likes his

millers and

priesl

'• They're

the hardest

fighters I

ever met."

but now the Prince of merry England

worthilye under his Sheelde
hath taken the Kmg of ffrance
240 at Poy tiers in the ffeelde.

the Prince did present his father with that food, 1

the louely King off ffrance,
& fforward of his Iourney he is gone :
244 god send us all good chance !

The King of
France is
also taken
at Poictiers

by the Black
Prince,

" you are welcome, brothers ! " sayd the King of Scotts, and both he

^ and the

to the King of ffrance, Scotch King

" for I am come hither to soone ;
Christ leeve that I had taken my way
248 unto the court of Roome ! "

1 feod or feodary. -P. Person : see note 2 , p. 456, vol. i. — F.

200

DURHAM FEILDE.

wish they
had kept out
of England.

Durham
Field,

Cressy, and
Poictiers,
all won in a
month !

Then was

wealth

and mirth in

England,

and the King
loved the
yeomanry !

God save
him, and the
yeomen too !

" & soe wold I," said the King of ffrance,

" when I came over the streame,
that I had taken my Iourney
252 nnto Ierusalem."

Thus ends the battell of ffaire Durham

in one morning of may,
the battell of Cressey, & the battle of Potyers,

All within one monthes day.

[page 249]

256

260

264

then was welthe & welfare in mery England,

Solaces, game, & glee,
& every man loved other well,

& the King loved good yeomanrye.

but God that made the grasse to growe,

& leaves on greenwoode tree,
now save & keepe our noble King,

& maintaine good yeomanry ! ffillis. 1

1 {Pencil note in Percy's late hand.)
" This & 2 following Leaves being un-
fortunately torn out, in sending the sub-
sequent piece [King Estmere] to the
Press, the conclusion of the preceding
ballad has been carefully transcribed ;
and indeed the fragments of the other
Leaves ought to have been so."

The loss of Kin// Estmere is much to
be lamented. It was, perhaps, the best
ballad in the Manuscript. Percy says
in the 2nd edition of the Reliques,
p. 59, that " this old Romantic Legend . .
is given from two copies, one of them in
the Editor's folio MS."; but we have not
been able to find the second copy. It is
not in the other small MS. in the posses-
sion of the Bishop's descendants now.
It is evident at a glance that Percy must
have touched up the ballad somewhat,
as in line 4 he has y-were, were, for a
perfect tense, y being the past participle
prefix ; and a comparison of the first
three editions with the 4th shows what
liberties he took with the (supposed)
text of the MS. Some of these will be
pointed out in a note at the end of this
vol nine. The thing to be noticed here is

that Percy must have deliberately and
unnecessarily torn three leaves out of
his MS. when preparing his 4th edition
for the Press, and after he had learnt — to
use his own words — to reverence the MS.
These leaves were in the MS. till that
time, as he says in his note on " Ver. 253.
Some liberties have been taken in the
following stanzas ; but wherever this
edition differs from the preceding, it
hath been brought nearer to the folio
MS." As the differences of the fourth
from the other editions, after v. 253,
are only in spelling louJced, 'looked,' and
wyfe, ' wiffe,' we must take the latter
part of Percy's sentence to apply to the
whole ballad. By tearing out the leaves
he has prevented us from knowing the
extent of his large changes, and has
sacrificed not only the original of the
whole of King Estmere but also the first
22 (or more or less) stanzas of Guy and
Phil/is, of which his version is printed
in the Reliques iii. 143, 4th ed., and
Child's Ballads i. 63-6. I calculate
Percy's additions to Estmere and the
lost part of Guy at 40 lines. — F.

201

[A fragment.]

[See the General Introduction to all the Guy Poems in Guy $ Colcbrande below.
The beginning of this Poem was on one of the torn-out leaves of the MS. |

In winsor fforrest I did slay

a bore of passing might & strenght, 2
whose like hi England neuer was
4 for hugnesse, both for breadth & lenght ;

some of his bones in warwicke yett

w/thin the Castle there doth 3 Lye ;
one of his sheeld bones to this day
8 doth hang in the Citye of Couentrye.

on Dunsmore heath I alsoe slewe
a mightye wyld & cruell beast
calld the Duncow of Dunsmore heath,
12 which, many people had opprest ;

some of her bones in warwicke yett
there for a monument doth 4 lye,
which, vnto euery lookers veue
16 as wonderous strange they may espye.

another dragon in this Land

in fight I alsoe did destroye,
who did bothe men & beasts opresse,
20 & all the countrye sore anoye ;

& then to warwicke came againe

like Pilgrim poore, & was not knowen ;
& there I liued a Hermitts liffe
24 a mile & more out of the towne ;

[page 254] In Windsor
Forest I
slew a big
boar,

some of
whose bones
are in
Warwick

Castle

and
Coventry.

On Duns-
more Heath
I slew

the Dun
Cow,

whose bones
are also in
Warwick.

Another
Dragon I
also slew,

anil then
came back

tn Warwick,

and lived a
hermit's life,

1 Title written in by P.— F.

2 stremght in the MS.— F.

do.— P. 4 do.— P.

202

GUT AND PIIILLIS.

m a cave
cut out of a
rock,

and

begged my
food at my
own castle
of my wife.

where with my hands I hewed a house

out of a craggy rocke of stone,
& liued like a palmer poore
28 wt'thin the caue my selfe alone ;

& daylye came to begg my foode

of Phillis att my castle gate,
not knowing l to my loued wiffe,
32 who daylye moned for her mate ;

At last I fell
sick,

sent her a
ring,

and she
closed my
dying eyes.

I died like a
palmer to
save my soul.

You may
see my
statue now.

till att the last I fell soe sicke,

yea, sicke soe sore that I must dye.
I sent to her a ring of gold
36 by w/w'ch shee knew me presently e ;

then shee, repairing to the graue,
befor that I gaue vp the ghost
shee closed vp my dying eyes,
40 my Phillis faire, whom I loued most.

thus dreadfull death did me arrest,

to bring my corpes vnto the graue ;
& like a palmer dyed I,
44 wherby I sought my soule to saue.

tho now it be consumed to mold,
my body that endured this toyle,

my stature ingrauen in Mold

this present time you may behold.

ffins.

1 knowen. — P.

203

The rescue of a prisoner was a favourite subject with the
ballad-makers of the Borders. There are in the Minstrelsy of
the Scottish Border " no fewer than three poems on the rescue
of prisoners, the incidents in which nearly resemble each other;
though the poetical description is so different, that the editor
did not think himself at liberty to reject any one of them as
borrowed from the others." These three are Jock o' the Side,
Kinmont Willie, and Archie of Catfield. The ballad here
given for the first time is vitally the same with Jock o' the Side.
The persons are partly changed : Sybill o' the Side takes the
place of the Lady Downie of Scott's ballad ; Much the Miller's
Son answers to the Laird's Saft Wat, though as the Folio copy
does not give the names of the five who accompany Hobbie
Noble, the Laird's Saft Wat may have been one of them. The
incidents differ very slightly : as at Culerton or Cholerford, when
the rescuers are going and returning, at Newcastle where the
Minstrelsy copy brings in " a proud porter " to be duly made
away with, at the gaol on the way back, where that same copy
gives the banter with which the heavy-ironed prisoner was
assailed by his triumphant friends. The Folio copy is a very
fresh, valuable version of the ballad.

" The reality of this story," says Scott, " rests solely upon
the foundation of tradition. Jock o' the Side seems to have
been nephew to the laird of Margertoun, cousin to the Laird's
Jock, one of his deliverers, and probably brother to Chrystie of
the Syde, mentioned in the list of border clans, 1597. Like
the Laird's Jock, he is also commemorated by Sir Eicbard
Maitland :

204

JOHN : A : SIDE.

He is weil kend, Johne of the Syde,
A greater theif did never ryde ;
He never tyris
For to brek byris,
Our inuir and myris
Ouir gude and guide.

John-a-Side
is taken,

and sent
prisoner to
Newcastle.

His mother,
Sybil],

tells Lord
Mangerton.

PEETER a whifeild 1 he hath slaine ;

& Iohn a side, he is tane ;
& Iohn is bound both hand & foote,
4 & to the New-castle he is gone.

but Tydinges came to the Sybill o the side,

by the water side as shee rann ;
shee tooke her kirtle by the hem,
8 & fast shee rami to Mangerton.

the Lord was sett downe at his meate ;
when these tydings shee did him tell,
neuer a Morsell might he eate.

Lords and

Ladies

lament,

12 but lords the wrunge their fingars white,
Ladyes did pull themselues by the haire,
crying " alas and weladay !

for Iohn o the side wee shall neuer see more 2 !

and vow to
lose their all

or rescue
him.

16 " but weele goe sell our droues of Kine,
& after them our oxen sell,
& after them our troopes of sheepe,

but wee will loose him out of the New-castel!."

Hobby Noble 20 but then bespake him hobby noble,

offers to

fetch John, & spoke these words wonderous live,

with five . J '

«"«i. sayes " giue me 5 men to my selfe,

& He feitch Iohn o the side to thee."

[page 255]

1 ? The first i may be t. — F.

2 maire. — P.

.John : A : side.

205

24 " yea, thoust kane 5, hobby noble,

of the best that are in this conntrye !
lie giue thee 5000, hobby Noble,
that walke in Tyuidale trulye."

The lord
promises
5000 ;

28 " nay, He haue bnt 5," saies hobby Noble,
" that shall walke away wi'th mee ;
wee will ryde like noe men of warr ;
bnt like poore badgers 1 wee wilbe."

but Ilobby
will only
have five,

dressed as
corn-dealers.

32 they stuff et vp all their baggs w/th straw,
& their steeds barefoot mnst bee ;
" come on my bretheren," sayes hobby noble,
" come on jour wayes, & goe w/th mee."

They start,

36 & when they came to Cnlerton 2 ford,

the water was vp, they cold it not goe ;
& then they were ware of a good old man,
how his boy & hee were at the plowe.

but at
Culerton
Ford find the
water up.

40 " bnt stand you still," sayes hobby noble,
" stand you still heere at this shore,
& I will ryde to yonder old man,
& see were the gate 3 it Lyes ore.

44 "but christ you saue, father," Q?<oth hee,
" crist both you saue and see !
where is the way ouer this fford ?
for christs sake tell itt mee ! "

Hobby

asks an old
man

the way
over the
ford.

48 " but I haue dwelled heere 3 score yeere,
soe haue I done 3 score and 3 ;
I neuer sawe man nor horsse goe ore
except itt were a horse of 3. 4 "

The old man
won't tell it.

1 corn-dealers, Fr. bladiers. — F.

2 Challerton, probably. — P.

3 way, ford. — F.

4 Tree, qu.— P.

206

JOHN : A : SIDE.

Hobby tells
him to go to
the devil,

52 " but fare thou well, thou good old man ;
the devill in hell I leave with thee !
noe better comfort heere this night

thow giues my bretheren heere & me."

and rides
back to his
mates.

They find
the ford,

56 but when he came to his brether againe,
& told this tydings full of woe,
& then they found a well good gate
they might ryde ore by 2 and 2.

and get safe
over,

60 and when they were come ouer the fforde,
all safe gotten att the last,
" thankes be to god ! " sayes hobby nobble,
" the worst of our perill is past."

cut down a
tree, 33 ft.
high,

64 & then they came into howbrame wood,

& there then they found a tree,

& cutt itt downe then by the roote ;

the lenght was 30 ffoote and 3.

carry it to
John-a-
Side's prison,

68 & 4 of them did take the planke
as light as it had beene a fflee,
& carryed itt to the Newcastle
where as Iohn a side did lye ;

and climb up
to where he
is lamenting
his fate.

72 & some did climbe vp by the walls,
& some did climbe vp by l the tree,
vntill they came vpp to the top of the castle
where Iohn made his moane trulye :

He takes
leave of his
mother
Sybill,

76 he sayd, " god be with thee, Sybill o the side !
my owne mother thou art," Quoth, hee,
" if thou knew this knight 2 I were here,
a woe woman then woldest thou bee !

1 MS. eaten through by ink. — F.

night.— P.

JOHN

SIDE.

207

80 " & fare you well, ~Lord Mangerton !
& euf/r I say ' god be with thee ! '
for if you knew this night I were heere,
you wold sell your land for to loose mee.

of Lord
Mangerton,

84 " & fare thou well, Much Millers sonne !
Much Millars sonne, I say ;
thou has beene better att Merke midnight
then euer thou was att noone o the day.

of Much the
Miller's son,

88 " & fare thou well, my good Lord Clough !
thou art thy ffathers sonne & heire ;
thou neuer saw him l in all thy liffe,

but with him durst thou breake a speare.

and of Lord
Clough ;

92 " wee are brothers childer 9: or :10:
& sisters children 10: or :11:
we neuer come to the feild to fight,

but the worst of us was counted a man."

and boasts
that his
family is
large and
brave.

96 but then bespake him hobynoble,
& spake these words vnto him,
saies, " sleepest thou, wakest thou, Iohn o the side,
or art thou this castle within ? "

Hobby tells
him

100 " But who is there," Q?ioth Iohn oth side, [page 256]
" that knowes my name soe right & free ? "
" I am a bastard brother of thine ;

this night I am comen for to loose thee."

he has come
to free him.

104 " now nay, now nay," quoth Iohn othe side ;
"itt ffeares me sore that will not bee ;
ffor a pecke of gold & silver," Iohn sayd,
" infaith this night will not loose mee."

I fear not,
says John ;

1 man. — F.

208 JOHN : A : SIDE.

but Hobby 108 but then bespake him hobby Noble,

& till his brother thus sayd hee,
says bis tour sayes, "4 shall take this matter in hand,

and 2 shall tent our geldings ffree."

can do it.

112 for 4 did breake one dore without,
They break then Iohn brake 5 himsell ;

and get to but when they came to the Iron dore,

it smote 12 vpon the bell.

the iron one.

Much fears n6 " itt ffeares me sore," sayd much the Miller,

they'll be

taken. « f] ia t heere taken wee all shalbee.

" but goe away, bretheren," sayd Iohn a side,
"for euer, alas ! this will not bee."

Hobby ]20 "but ffye vpon thee ! " sayd Hobby Noble ;

reproaches

him, " Much the Miller ! fye vpon thee !

"it sore feares me," said Hobby Noble,
" man that thou wilt neue/- bee."

124 but then he had nianders files 2 or 3,
files down & hee fyled downe that Iron dore,

door. & tooke Iohn out of the New-castle,

takes John . . ,,

out, & sayd " looke thou neuer come liecre more !

128 when he had him fforth of tbe Newcastle,
" away with me, Iohn, thou shalt ryde."
but euer alas ! itt cold not bee ;

for Iohn cold neither sitt nor stryde.

wraps sheets 132 but then he had sheets 2 or 3,

round his '

chain? ' & bound Iohns boults fast to his ffeete,

and sets him & se tt him on a well e-ood steede,

on a horse

himselfe on another by him seete.

john : A : side.

209

136 then Hobby Noble smiled & louge, 1

& spoke these words in mickle pryde,
" thon sitts soe finely on thy geldinge
that, Iohn, thou rydes like a bryde."

■worn an -
fashion.

140 & when they came thorrow HOWBBAME towne,
Iohns horsse there stumbled at a stone ; 2
" out & alas ! " cryed much the Miller,
" Iohn, thoule make vs all be tane."

Mnch the
Miller gets
into another
fright.

144 " but fye vpon thee! " saies Hobby Noble,
" much the Millar, fye on thee !
I know full well," sayes Hobby Noble,
" man that thou wilt neue/ bee ! "

and is again
snubbed by
Hobby
Noble,

148 & when the came into howbeame wood,
he had fflanders files 2 or 3
to file Iohns bolts beside his ffeete,
that hee might ryde more easilye.

who files off
John's
chains from
his feet.

152 sayes Iohn, " Now leape ouer a steede,'
& Iohn then hee lope oue>- 5 :
" I know well," sayes Hobby Noble,
" Iohn, thy ffellow is not aliue ! "

Thereupon
John leaps
over five
horses,

156 then he brought him home to Mangerton ;
the Lord then he was att his meate ;
but when Iohn o the side he there did see,
for faine hee cold noe more eate ;

and goes
home to
Lord
Mangerton.

ico he sayes "blest be thou, Hobby Noble,
th at euer thou wast man borne !
thou hast feitched vs home good Iohn oth side
that was now cleane ffrom vs gone ! "

ffins.

Lord

Mangerton

blesses

Hobby

Noble.

1 lough e. — P.

2 stane.— P.

VOL. II.

210

mtefnge m tfte ftorflbn 1

This ballad is printed in the Reliques, " from two MS. copies,
one of them in the Editor's folio collection. They contained {sic)
considerable variable variations, out of which such readings were
chosen as seemed most poetical and consonant to history."

On the subject see the Introduction to "The Earle of West-
morelande," vol. i. p. 292, and Percy's, in the Reliques, i. 248,
l s . fc ed.

Listen,

and I'll tell
all about it.

LISTEN, liuely lordings all,

& all that beene this place wv'thin !
if youle giue eare vnto my songe,
4 I will tell you how this geere did begin.

The Earl of
Westmore-
land

turned
traitor ;

It was the good Erie of westmorlande,

a noble Erie was called hee ;
& he wrought treason against the crowne ;
8 alas, itt was the more pittye !

so did the
Earl of
North-
umberland.

& soe itt was the Erie of Northumberland,

another good Noble Erie was hee,
they tooken both vpon one part, [page 257]

12 against their crowne they wolden bee.

Earl Percy
tells his wife

he must
fight or flee.

Earle Pearcy is into his garden gone,

& after walkes his awne ladye 2 ;
" I heare a bird sing in my eare
16 that I must either flight or fflee."

1 a.d. 1569. N.B.— To correct this
by my other copy, w^ich seems more
modern. — P. The other copy in many

parts preferable to this. — Pencil note.

2 This lady was Anne, daughter of
Henry Somerset, E. of Worcester. — Bel.

RISINGE IN THE NORTHE.

211

" god fforbidd," sliee sajcl, " good my lord,

that euer soe that it slialbee !
but goe to London to tbe court,

& faire flail truth & honestye ! "

She advise3
him to go to
court.

" but nay, now nay, my La dye gay,

that euer it sbold soe bee ;
my treason is knowen well enoughe
24 att the court I must not bee."

He says

his treason
is too well
known.

' ' but goe to the Court ! yet, good my Lorc7,

take men enowe w/th thee ;
if any man will doe you wronge,
28 yowr warrant they ' may bee."

" but Nay, Now Nay, my Lady gay,

for soe itt must not bee ;
If I goe to the court, Ladye,
32 death will strike me, & I must dye."

She again
says, " Go to
court with
plenty of
men.'*

No, says the
Earl, "

it would be

certain

death.

" but goe to the Court ! yett, [good] my Lord,

I my-selfe will ryde with thee ;
if any man will doe you wronge,
36 yo«r borrow 2 I shalbee."

She offers to
go with him.

" but Nay, Now nay, my Lady gay,

for soe it must not bee ;
for if I goe to 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 "Master Norton
44 in all the hast that euer may bee :

but sends a
page to ask

Master
Norton

1 altered from them. — F. they. — P. fide jussor, vadimonhim, pigmis. A.-S.

2 Borrow, borow, borge. Sponsor, vas, borge, borhoe, Lye. — P.

212

EISINGE IN THE NORTHE.

to go with
him.

The page
hurries off

to Master
Norton,

" comend me to that gentleman ;

bring him here this letter from mee,
& say, ' I pray him Earnestlye

that hee will ryde in my companye.' '

but one while the foote page went,

another while he rann ;
vntill he came to Master Norton,
52 the ffoot page neuer blanne ; J

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.

& 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 3 Nortton,

a ffine ffellow thou seemes to bee ;
some good councell, Kester ISTortton,
64 this day doe thou giue to mee."

Kester tells

him not to
draw back
from his
word.

" marry, He giue you councell, ffather,

if youle take councell att me,
that if you haue spoken the word, father,
68 that backe againe you doe not flee."

Norton

promises
him reward,

" god amercy, Christopher Nortton,

I say, god amercye !
if I doe Hue & scape wz'th liffe,
72 well advanced shalt thou bee ;

1 cessavit. — P.

2 to wis, to know.
Johns. — P.

Germ, wissen,

3 Kester, Christopher. Northern. Hal-
liweli's Glossary. — F.

RISINGE IN THE NOETIIE.

213

" but come you hither, my 9 good sonnes,
in mens estate I thinke you bee ;

how many of you, my children deare,
on my -part that wilbe ? "

and asks his
own nine
sons

who will be
on his side.

but 8' h of them did answer soone,

& spake ffull hastilye,
sayes " we wilbe on yonr part, ffather,
80 till the day that 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 238]

" but what sayst thou, thou ffrancis Nortton,

mine eldest sonne & mine heyre trulye ?
some good councell, ffrancis Nortton,
88 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 Nbrtton !

I say ffye vpon thee !
when thou was younge & tender of age
96 I made ffull much of thee."

Noi-ton
reproaches
his son
Francis,

"but jour head is white, ffather," he sayes,

" & jour beard is wonderous gray ;
itt were shame ffor your country e
li)o if you shold rise & fflee away."

214

RISINGE IN THE NORTHE.

and calls Trim
a coward.

Francis
offers to go
unarmed,
but invokes
death on
traitors.

Norton and
his men join
the Earls

"but ffye vpon thee, thou coward ffrancis !

thou neuer tookest that of mee !
when thou was younge & tender of age
104 I made too much of thee."

"but I will goe with you, father," Quoth, hee ;

" like a Naked man will I bee ;
he that strikes the first stroake against the
crowne,
103 an ill death may hee dye ! "

but then rose vpp Master Nortton that Esqm'er,

with him a ffull great companye ;
& then the Erles they comen downe
112 to ryde in his companye.

at Wether-
by;

they have
13,000 men.

att whethersbye the mustered their men

vpon a ffull fayre day ;
13000 there were seene
116 to stand in battel ray. 1

Westmore-
land's
standard is
the Dun
Bull,

the Erie of Westmoreland, he had in his ancyent 2

the Dume bull in sight most hye,
& 3 doggs with golden collers
120 were sett out royallye.

North um-
berland's the
half-moon.

124

the Erie of Northumberland, he had
ancyent 3

the halfe moone in sight soe hye,
as the Lore? was crucifyed on the crosse,

& sett forthe pleasantlye.

his

1 array. — P.

2 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
the 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. Burke's
Armorie. — P.

3 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 NORTHE.

215

& after them did rise good Sir George Bowes, 1

after tliem a spoyle to make ;
the Erles returned backe againe,
128 thought euer that Kw'(//(t to take.

Sir G. Bowes

rises behind
them.

They turn
back,

this Barron did take a Castle then,

was made of lime & stone ;
the vttermost 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 2 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 North countrye.

shee turned her grace then once about,

& like a royall Queene shee sware, 3
sayes, "I will ordaine them such a breake-fast
144 as was not in the North this 1000 yeere! "

but can't
win the
inner.

News of the
rebellion
reaches
London.

Elizabeth
swears she'll
give the
rebels a
breakfast
they won't
stomach.

shee caused 30000 men to be made

w/th horsse and harneis all quicklye ;
& shee caused 30000 men to be made
148 to take the rebells in the North countrye.

She sends
ao (100 men

against them

they tooke with them the false Erie of Warwicke, unto Lord

•> Warwick.

soe did they many 4 another man ;
vntill they came to yorke Castle,
1 52 I- wis they neuer stinted nor blan.

They march
to York,

1 Bowes. — P.

2 imermust in MS.— P.

3 This is quite in character : her ma-
jesty would sometimes swear at her

nobles, as well as hox their ears.
liques, i. 255. — F.

1 Only half the n in the MS.— F

Be-

216

RISINGE IN THE NOKTHE.

but West-
moreland,

Northum-
berland,

and Norton
flee like
cowards.

156

" spread thy ancyent, Erie of Westmoreland !

The halfe moone ffaine wold wee see ! " [ pa ge 259]
but the halfe moone is fled & gone,

& the Dun bull vanished awaye ;
& ffrancis Nortton & his 8 sonnes

are filed away most cowardlye.

Ladds with mony are counted men,
160 men without mony are counted none ;

but hold jouv tounge ! why say you soe ?
men wilbe men when mony is gone.

ffins.

217

^ortbuntfierlanti : 33etrayti I>p : JBolxigla^ 1

[A Sequel to the preceding. — P.]

This ballad is printed in the Reliqu.es (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 Earl of Westmoreland, vol. i.
p. 294. Neville found his trust in the Borderers justified ; but
Percy was betrayed to the Regent Moray by Hector Graham
(not Armstrong, as the ballad, v. 209, calls him) of Harkw ;
whose name became thenceforward infamous, to take Hectoi^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,
quho immediattlie thairefter was execute in Yorke, 1572 ' — the
answer to the English ballad, ' Ane schort inveccyde maid aganis
the delyverance of the Erie of Northumberland.' The present

1 Whose Sister being an enchantress omitted here. — P.

would have saved 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 West morel ande 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

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD 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 1 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 yon the veretye,
how they haue delt with a banished man,
4 drinen ont of his conntrye.

when as hee came on Scottish ground,

as woe & wonder be them amonge,
ffull much was there traitorye
8 the wrought the Erie of Northumberland.

At supper

they ask
Percy

when they were att the supper sett,

beffore many goodly gentlemen

the ffell a fflouting & Mocking both,

12 & 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,
1G & thither thoust goe, my 'Lord 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 my Lord Pearcy."

1 " The interposal of the witch-lady
f 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 the lady alluded to in verse "
[101 here]. Ediques, i. 258.— F.

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

219

" lie giue thee my Land, 1 Douglas," he sayes,

& be the faith in niy bodye,
if that thou wilt ryde to the worlds end,

He ryde in thy company e."

Percy pro-
mises to go
with
Douglas.

& then bespake the good Ladye, —

Marry a Douglas was her name, —
" you shall byde here, good English Lo/
28 my brother is a traiterous man ;

" he is a traitor stout & stronge,

as 1st 2 tell you the veretye,
for he hath tane liuerance of the Erie, 3

& into England he will liuor thee."

Mary

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 thats in Loug Leuen, 4
36 williara wold not Liuor mee !

Percy de-
clares that
he trusts
Douglas.

"it wold breake truce betweene England & Scottland,

& freinds againe they wold neuer bee
if he shold liuor a bani[s]ht 5 Erie
40 was driuen out of his owne countrye."

" hold jour tounge, my Lore?," shee sayes,

" there is much Falsehood 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 truly e

1 hand. Rdiqv.es. — F.

2 I'll. See note 4, p. 20, vol. i.— F.

3 pay " of the earl of Morton : " James
Douglas, Earl of Morton, elected regent

of Scotland, Nov. 24, 1572.
p. 251, 259.— F.

4 Lough Lt-ven. — P.

5 banisht.— P.

advises
Percy

to let

Douglas go
alone,

Rd. vol. i.

220

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

and then
she'll see
him safe

" how that you cannot with them ryde

because you are in an He of the sea l ;
then, ere my Brother come againe,
52 to Edenborrow castle 2 He carry thee,

into Lord

Hume's

hands.

" lie liuor you vnto the hord Hume,

& you know a trew Scothe LorcZ is hee,
for he hath lost both Land & goods
56 in ay ding of your good bodye."

Percy says
that no
friend shall
suffer for
him again,

his old ad-
herents have

suffered
enough.

Mary
Douglas
offers to
prove her
words.

Percy will
have nothing
to do with
her witch-
craft.

" marry ! I am woe ! woman," he sayes,
" that 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,] 3

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 woenull warres w7wch I began."

" If you will giue me noe trust, my Lore?,

nor noe credence you will give mee,
& youle come hither to my right hand,
72 indeed, my Lord, 4 He lett you see."

saies, " I neuer loued noe witchcraft,

nor neuer dealt with treacherye,
but euermore held the hye way ;
76 alas ! that niay be seene by mee ! "

[page 200]

1 i.e. Lake of Leven, which hath com-
munication with the sea. — Bel. i. 261.

2 At that time in the hands of the
opposite faction. — Bel.

3 This line is partly pared away. — F.

4 ? MS. Lorid, or Loufrd ; or Lord,
with one stroke too many. — F.

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

221

" if you will not come jour selfe, nry Lore?,
youle lett jour chaniberlaine goe w/th raee,

3 words that I may to him speake,

& soone he shall come againe to thee."

liar;

Douglas
shows the
chamberlain

when lames Swynard came that Lady before, through her

shee let him see thorrow the weme l of her ring in wait for

Percy :

how many there was of English lords
84 to wayte there for his Master and him.

" but who beene yonder, my 2 good Ladye,

that walkes soe royallye on yonder greene ? "
" yonder is ~Lord Hunsden, 3 Iamye," she saye ;
88 "alas ! heele doe you both tree 4 & teene ! "

" & who beene yonder, thou gay Ladye,

that walkes soe royallye him beside ? "
"yond is Sir william Drurye, 5 Iamy," shee sayd,
92 " & a keene Captam hee is, and tryde."

Lord Huns-
den,

and Sir SVm.
Drurye,

" how many miles is itt, thou good Ladye,
betwixt yond English Lord and mee ? "

" marry, 3 8 f 50 mile, Iamy," shee sayd,
" & euen to seale 6 & by the sea :

(150 miles
off,

" 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.)

1 weme, the Scottish word for the
belly, i. e. womb. — P.

2 ny in MS.— F.

3 The Lord Warden of the East

Marches.— Rel. i. 263.

4 dre, dree, to suffer, endure. — P.

5 Governor of Berwick. — Rcl. i. 264.

6 saile.— P.

222

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

and Sir J.
Forster.

" but who is yond, thou good Layde,

that comes yonder with an Osterne l fface ? "
" yonds Sir Iohn fforster, 2 Iamye," 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-
berlain
weeps,

and tells
Lord Percy

he pulled his hatt ouer his eyes,
] 12 &, lord, he wept soe tenderlye !
he is gone to his Master againe,
& euen to tell him the veretye.

that Mary " Now hast thou beene with Marry, Iamy," he sayd,

116 " Euen as thy tounge will tell to mee;
but if thou trust in any womans words,
thou must refraine good companye."

has shown
him the
English
Lords wait-
ing to take
him,

"It is noe words, my Lord," he sayes,
120 "yonder the men shee letts me see,
how many English Lords there is
is wayting there for you & mee ;

Hunsden rd " y on der I see ^ ne Lord Hunsden,

124 & hee & you is of the 3 d . degree ;
his greatest a greater eneniye, indeed, my Lord,

in England none haue yee,"

enemy.

Percy says
that he's
been three
years in jail,

" & I haue beene in Lough Leven
128 the most pcwt of these yeeres 3 :
yett had I neuer noe out-rake, 3
nor good games that I cold see ;

1 Austerne, austere, fierce. L. austerus.
Gloss, ad G.D.— P.

2 Warden of the Middle March.— Bel.
i. 264.

3 rake raik, ambulare, expatiari. As
Isl. reika. Raik gradus citatus, a long

raik, Iter longum, to raik home, ac-
celerate gradu domum abire; hinc a
Rake, homo dissolutus ; an out-raik, a
Eiot, at large. Lye. See G.D. 224. 39.
—P.

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

223

" & I am thus bidden to yonder shooting
132 by william Douglas all truly e ;

therfore speake neuer a word out of thy mouth
That thou thinkes will hinder mee. 1 [page26i]

and he will
go to the
shooting
with
Douglas.

then he writhe the gold ring of his ffingar 2
136 & gaue itt to that Ladye gay;

sayes, " that was a legacy e left vnto mee
in Harley woods where I cold 3 bee."

He gives
Mary a gold

" then ffarewell hart, & farewell hand,
140 and ffarwell all good companye !
that woman shall neuer beare a sonne
shall know soe much of your 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 againe in Lough Leuen I bee."

He says he
shall soon be
back,

he tooke his boate att the Lough Leuen
148 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 ;
152 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.

1 Part ctit 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.

2 A.-S. wriSan to twist: perf. wra$
twisted.— F.

3 did.— F.

224

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

160

"if ought come to yonder Ladye but good,
then blamed fore that I shall 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," he sayes,

" & lett all such talking bee ;
theres Ladyes enow in Lough Leuen,
164 & for to cheere yonder gay Ladye."

Percy aiks
that his
Chamberlain
may go back
with him.

" & you will not goe jour selfe, my lord,

you will lett my chamberlaine goe with mee ;
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 l 50 : myle,

now 50 mile vpon the sea,
hee had fForgotten a message that hee
176 shold doe in lough Leuen trulye :

hee asked ' how ffarr it was to that shooting.

that -william Douglas promised mee.'

now faire words makes fooles faine 2 ;
180 & that may be seene by thy ~M.aster & thee ;
ffor you may happen think 3 itt soone enoughe
when-euer you that shooting see."

1 There is no navigable stream between
Lough-leven and the sea: but a ballad-
maker is not obliged to understand Geo-
graphy.— Bel. i. 266.

2 Belle promcsse fol lie: Prov. Faire
promises oblige the fool ; or, are noe

better than fopperies ; (for the words fol
lie equivocate vnto folie.) Domes pro-
messes obligcnt les fols : Prov. Faire
promises oblige fools ; or, (as our) faire
words make fools faine. — F.
3 A Lancashire phrase. — F.

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

225

Iamye pulled his liatt now oner his browe ;
184 I wott the teares fell in his eye ;
& he is to his "Master againe,
& ffor to tell him the veretye :

Jamie

" he sayes, fayre words makes fooles faine,
188 & that may be seene by you and mee,

ffor wee may happen thinke itt soone enoughe
when-euer wee that shooting see."

tells Percy

Douglas's

words.

" hold vpp thy head, Iamye," the Erie sayd,
192 & neuer lett thy hart fayle thee ;
he did itt but to proue thee with,

& see how thow wold take with death trulye."

Percy says
Douglas

was only
trying his
courage.

when they had sayled other 50 mile,
196 other 50 mile vpon the sea,

LorcZ Peercy called to him, himselfe,

& sayd, "Douglas what wilt thou doe with
mee ? "

After 100
miles' sail,

Percy asks
Douglas
what he'll
do with him.

" 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 euer 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 hoi

and spurs are
in others'
hands."

226

NORTHUMBERLAND BETRAYD BY DOWGLAS.

After 150
miles' sail,

Percy is
landed and
betrayed on
English soil.

when the had sayled other 50 mile,
212 other 50 mile vpon the sea,

the landed low by Barwicke side ;

a deputed land l Landed liord Percye.

frm[s 2 ].

1 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,
AVho ever was a gallant wight. — F.

2 s pared off by the binder. — F.

227

(Buyt : of : <8teborne : '

[The fight between him and Eobin 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 novir Weild Bobeine under bewch,
Nor yitt Eoger of Clekkinslowch

So bauld a bairne as he ;
Gy of Gisborne, na Allane Bell,
Na Simones Sones of Qntrynsell

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 shales beeene sheene, & shradds 2 full fayre, it is merry
& leeues both Large & longe, the forest in

itt is merrry walking in the fayre fforrest
4 to heare the small birds singe. 3

1 A very curious Old Song, much more ary, 1593, Halliwell. Shradd is a twig,
ancient and perfect than the common either from " shred, to cut off the smaller
printed Ballads of Eobin Hood. — P. branchesof a tree," or "schraas, the clip

2 Shale, a husk. The shales or pings of live fences." Halliwell. — F.
stalkes of hempe. Hollyband's Diction' s songe. — P.

Q 2

228

GUYE OF GISBOHNE.

Robin Hood
dreams that
two yeomen

the woodweete sansf & wold not cease

amongst the leanes a lyne ; J

r w ■%? * tp w

" 2 & it is by 2 3 wight yeomen,
by deare god that I meane :

beat hiin.

He vows
revenge on
them,

"me thought they did mee beate & binde,

& tooke my bow mee froe :
If I bee Robin a-liue in this Lande,
12 lie be wrocken on both them to we."

and orders
his men to
go with him.

They all
start,

and soon see
one yeoman,

" sweeuens 4 are swift, Master," quoth Iohn,

" as the wind that blowes ore a hill ;
ffor if itt be neuer soe lowde this night,
16 to-morrow it may be still."

" buske 5 yee, bowne yee, my merry men all !

ffor Iohn shall goe with, mee ;
for He goe seeke yond wight yeomen
20 in greenwood where the bee."

the cast 6 on their gowne of greene ; 7

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 ;

his body Leaned to a tree,

1 of lime: I would read ' so greene.' — P.

2 As the lines that follow are part of a
Speech of Robin hood relating a dream:
there are certainly some lines wanting
and we can no where better fix the hiatus
than between the 2? & 3<J lines of st. 2<J .
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 Lacunae,
&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.

3 of 2.— P.

4 i. e. dreams. — P.

5 i.e. get you ready. — P.

6 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.

GUTE OF GISBORNE.

229

a sword & a dagger he wore by his side,
28 had beene many a mans bane, l

& he was cladd in his Capull 2 hyde,
topp, & tayle, and mayne.

clad in a
horse's hide.

" stand you still, Master," qwoth litle Iohn,
32 " vnder this trusty tree,

& I will goe to yond wight yeoman
to know his meaning trulye."

Little John
tells Robin
to stop while
he a-ks who
the man is.

" a, Iohn ! 3 by me thou setts noe store,
3G & thats a ffarley 4 thinge ;

how offt send I my men beffore,
& tarry my-selfe behinde ? 5

Robin Hood
is angry at
John'.-
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,
Iohn, I wold thy head breake."

but often words they breeden ball ; 6
that parted Robin and Iohn ;

Iohn is gone to Barnsdale,

the gates 7 he knowes eche one.

and threat-
ens to 1 ireak
Little John's
head.

This parts
them, and

Little John
goes to
Barnsdale,

& when hee came to Barnesdale,
48 great heauinesse there hee hadd ;

he ffound 2 of his own fellowes
were slaine both in a slade, 8

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 gone.

and Scarlett
flying

from the
Sheriff.

' Of many a man the bane. — P.

2 Horse.— P.

3 Ah ! John.— P.

4 wonderous. Lye. — P.

5 meamwg that he never did so. — P.

6 bale.— P.

7 passes, paths, ridings. — P. in Eel.

8 i. e., a parting between 2 Woods. — P.

230

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

Little John
tries to shoot
the Sheriff,

" yett one shoote He shoote," sayes Litle Iohn ;
56 " with crist his might & Mayne

He make yond fellow that flyes soe fast
to be both glad & ffaine.

but his bow
breaks.

Iohn bent vp a good veiwe * bow, 2
60 & ffetteled 3 him to shoote :

the bow was made of a tender boughe,
& fell downe to his footee. 4

[page 263]

" woe worth thee, wicked wood ! " sayd litle Iohn,
64 " that ere thon grew on a tree !

ffor 5 this day thou 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,

& 6 it mett one of the Sheriffes men :
good ivilliava. a Trent was slaine.

(who'd
better have
been hung).

it had beene better 7 for a william Trent
72 to hange vpon a gallowe

then for to lye in the greenwoode
there slaine wi'th an arrowe. 8

But Little
John is
taken.

& it is sayd, when men be mett,
6 9 can doe more then 3 :

& they haue tane 10 litle Iohn,
& bound him ffast to a tree.

1 Query MS : the word is partly pared
away. — F.

2 John bent up a good yew bow. — P.

3 prepared, addressed him, verbum
Salopiense. — P.

4 foote.— P.

5 ffor now. — P.
8 or Yet.— P.

7 as good. — P.

8 Altered in the Beliqiies, 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 'Fyve.—Bel.

10 insert now. — P.

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

231

"thou slialt be drawen by dale and downe," q?^oth and the

, , t • /v> i Sheriff vows

the sherifie, 1 he shall be
80 " & hanged hye on a hill."

" but thou may ffayle," qwth litle Iohn, ^|!f

" if itt be christs owne will. ' ' ^ itile

let vs leaue talking of Litle Iohn,
84 for hee is bound fast to a tree,
& talke of Guy & Robin hood

in they 2 green woode where they bee ;

Let us turn
to Guy and
Robin.

how these 2 yeomen together they mett
88 vnder the leaues of Lyne, 3

to see what Marchandise they made
euen at that same time.

" good morrow, good fellow ! " qwoth S^r Guy ;
92 " good morrow, good ffellow ! " quoth, hee ;
" methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand,
a good archer 4 thou seems to bee. 5

G-uy greets
Robin

" I am wilfull 6 of my way," quoth Sir Guye,
96 " & of my morning tycle."

" He lead thee through the wood," qwoth Robin,
" good ifellow, He be thy guide."

" I seeke an outlaw," qwoth S/r Guye,
100 " men call him Robin Hood ;

I had rather meet with, him vpon a day 7
then 40 1 .! of golde."

and tells him
he seeks an
outlaw,
Robin Hood.

1 These three words seem added by * An e has been added at the end. — F.
some explainer. — P. s shozddest bee. — P.

2 the. — P. 6 probably the same as " wilsome,"

3 perhaps Lime ; tho' Line or Lyne is page 357 [of MS.] st. 6. — P.
more common in these old ballads. — P. 7 this day. — -P.

232

GUYE OF GISBOENE.

Robin pro-
poses some
sport.

" if yon tow mett, itt wold be seene whether were
better
104 afore yee did part awaye ;
let vs some other pastime find,
good ffellow, I thee pray. 1

No doubt, as
they go on,
they'll meet
Robin Hood.

-J

They make
pricks ready
to shoot at.

" let vs some other mastery es make,
108 & wee will walke in the woods euen,

wee may chance 2 mee[t] with Robin Hoode
att some vnsett steven." 3

they cutt them downe the 4 summer shroggs s
1 1 2 which grew both vnder a Bryar, 6
& sett them 3 score rood in twinn 7
to shoote the prickes fall neare. 8

"leade on, good ffellow," sayd Sir Guye,
1 1 G " lead 9 on, I doe bidd thee."

"nay, by my faith," quoth Robin Hood,
"the leader thou shaft bee."

1 Percy alters this in his Beliqucs, i.
81, 1st ed., to

Now come with me, thou wighty yeman,
And Eobin thou soon shalt see :

But first let us 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.

1 two.— Eel.

5 scrog, a stunted shrub: Jamieson.
—P.

8 pronounced Breer in some p«rts of
England. — P. Bryar is entered in
Levin's, 1570, under the words in eare.

7 1 1 part. — F.

8 y-fere. — Bel. Threescore roods or
330 yards must have been a long range.
Tin' 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,
butts the near.

Moll. Out 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 Buts, when
you shou'd use prick-shafts, short- shoot-
ing will loose ye the game, I as[sure]
you, sir.

Eare. Her minde runnes 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 1 80 yards," says Mr. Peter Muir,
their Bowmaker. See my note on pricks
in The Bahccs Boke §c. 1868, p. ci.— F.

9 i.e. begin to shoot. — P.

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

233

the first good shoot that Robin ledd,
120 did not shoote an inch the pricke l ffroe.
Guy was an archer good enoughe,
but he cold neere shoote soe.

Robin shoots

first,

an inch from

the prick.

the 24 shoote 2 Sir Guy shott,
124 he shott within the garlande ;

but Robin hoode shott it better then bee,
for he cloue the good pricke wande.

Guy next,
within the
garland.
Robin 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," quoth Guy,
132 " vnder the leaues of Lyne."

"nay, by my faith," quoth good Robin,
"till thou haue told me thine."

" Tell me
your name."

" Not till
you tell me
yours."

" I dwell by dale & downe," quoth Guye,
136 " & I haue done many a curst turne ;
& he that calles me by my right name,
calles me Guye of good Gysborne."

" my dwelling is in the wood," sayes Robin ;
140 "by thee I set right nought ;

my name is Robin Hood of Barnesdalc,
a ffellow thou has long sought."

" Mine is
Guye of
Gysborne."

"And mine
Robin Hoed
of Barnes-
dale."

he that had neither beene a 4 kithe nor kin 5
144 might haue seene a full fayre sight,
to see how together these yeomen went
with blades both brown e & bright ;

It was a
pretty sight
to see 'em
fight.

1 was not an Inch the prick. — P.

2 that inserted by P.— F.

:l an, or and. — P.

4 a delend. — P.

3 neither acquaintance nor relation.
-P.

234

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

Neither
thinks of
flying.

to haue seene how these yeomen together foug[ht]
148 2 howers of a summers day :

itt was neither Guy nor Robin hood
that Settled them to flye away.

But Robin
stumbles,

and Guy-
hits him.

Robin was reacheles l on a roote,
152 & stumbled 2 at that tyde ;

& Guy was quiche & nimble with-all,
& hitt him ore the left side.

Robin calls
on the
Virgin,

" ah, deere Lady ! " sayd Robin hoode,
156 " thou art both Mother & may !
I thinke it was neuer mans destinye
to dye before his day."

leaps up,

kills Sir
Guy,

sticks his
head on his
bow,

Robin thought on our Lady deere,
160 & soone leapt vp againe;

& thus he came with an awkwarde 3 stroke ;
good Sir Guy bee has slayne.

he tooke Sir Guys head by the hayre,
164 & sticked itt on his bowes end ;

" thou hast beene traytor all thy liffe,
which thing must haue an ende."

s lashes his
face till no
one can
know him,

Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe,
168 & nicked Sir Guy in the fface,

that hee was neuer on 4 a woman borne
cold tell who Sir Guye was :

saies, " lye there, lye there, good Sir 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.
2 he stumbled. — P.

3 perhaps backward. — P.

4 of woman. — P.

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

235

Robin did on l his gowne of greene,
176 [on] Sir Guye 2 hee did it throwe ;
& hee put on that Capull hyde
that cladd him topp 3 to toe.

" the 4 bowe, the 4 arrowes, & Htle home,
180 & 5 with me now He beare ;
ffor now I will goe to Barnsdale,
to see how my men doe ffare."

Robin sett Guyes home to his mouth ;
184 a lowd blast in it he did blow.

that beheard the Sheriffe of Nottingham
as he leaned vnder a lowe 6 ;

"hearken ! hearken ! " sayd the Sheriffe,
188 "I heard noe ty dings but good ;

for yonder I heare Sir Guyes home bio we,
for he hath slaine Robin hoocle :

throws his
own green
coat on tho
corpse,
puts on Sir
Guy's horse-
hide,

and takes
his horn,

and blows it,

The Sheriff
hears it,

thinks Guy
has slain
Robin Hood,

" 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, 7 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 8 ;

" 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."

and promises
him what-
ever reward
he asks.

Robin asks

leave to kill
Little John.

1 off.— P.

2 On Sir Guy.— P.

3 from topp. — P.

4 thy.— Eel.

5 and delend. — P.

u perhaps bowe. — P.

hill, A.-S. hlcetv.

—F.

7 come hither [repeated]. — P.
9 Perhaps

None of it I will have

or
Nor nothing else 111 have. — P.

236

GUYE OP GISBORNE.

The Sheriff
grants it.

" tliou art a Madman," said the shiriffo,
204 " thou sholdest haue had a knights ffee.
seeing thy asking beene ' soe badd,
well granted it shall be."

but litle Iohn heard his Master speake,
208 well he knew that was his steuen 2 ;

Little John
knows
Robin's
voice,

and thinks « now g^aH I fa loset, 3 " quoth, litle Iohn,

JlG -Mini uQ

freed. C£ ,J -i- ^i~™~i-« ,™.!™i-.j- *■*-* "L ,-*<-»-.-. ^-« '•

" with Christs might in heauen.'

The Sheriff
and his men
press on
them.

but Robin hee hyed him towards Litle Iohn ;
212 hee thought hee wold loose him beliue.
the Sheriffe & all his companye
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 4 another shold heere."

looses Little
John, and
gives him
Guy's bow.

but Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffee,
220 & losed Iohn hand & ffoote,

& gaue him Sir Guyes bow in his hand,
& bade it be his boote.

Little John
prepares to
shoot.

5 but Iohn tooke Guyes bow in his hand,
224 his arrowes were rawstye by the roote ;
the Sherriffe saw litle Iohn draw a bow
& ffettle him to shoote ;

1 bath been. — P.

2 i. e. voice. — P.
8 loosed. — P.

4 i. e. confession. — P.

5 Tben John be took Gnyes bowe in bis

band,

His boltes and arrowes eche one :
When tbe sheriffe saw Little John bend
his bow.

He fettled him to be gone. —Bel.

? is rawstye, 1. 224, rusty. Rawly is
rude; unskilful. Halliwell. — F.

GUYE OF GISBORNE.

237

towards his house in Nottingam
22S he filed full fast away, —
& soe did all his companye,
not one behind did stay, —

The Sheriff

takes to
flight,

but he cold neither soe fast goe,
232 nor away soe fast runn, 1

but litle Iohn with an arrow broade
did cleaue his heart in twinn. 2

ffins.

but can't get
away from
Little John's
arrow,
which
cleaves his
heart.

1 ryde. — Bel. put your inverted commas too, as if

2 He shott him into the ' backe '- you'd only altered the one word ' backe.'
syde. — Bel. 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, 2 which finally resulted in their banish-
ment in 1398. A full description of the Lists of Coventry (in
September, not August) is given by Hall. 3 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
uncelebrated till late in Elizabeth's reign.

I sing the J-OWE noble dukes of great renowne

noble Dukes, that long had fiued in ffarne 3

throug 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.

1 In the printed Collection 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 Gough and Sharon Turner. Planch/;

2 See Shakspere's Richard II. — F. Hist, of Costume, p. 223. — F.

3 Hall's descriptions of armour and

IIEKEFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

239

the Duke of Norfolke most vntrue '

declared to the King,
" the duke of Hereford greatly grew

in hatred of eche thinge

and Norfolk.

Norfolk de-
nounces
Hereford

which, by his grace was acted still

against both hye & lowe,
& how he had a traiterous will
16 his state to ouerthrowe."

to the King

as a traitor.

the Duke of Hereford then in hast
was sent for to the Kinge,

& by his lords in order placet
examined in eche thinge ;

The King
sends for
Hereford,

has him
examined,

w7«'ch being guiltelesse of that crime

which, was against him layd,
the duke of Norfolke at that time 2
24 these words vnto him sayd :

and he is

guiltless.

Norfolk

" 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
shameless-
ness,

" did not these treasons from thee passe

when wee together were,
how that the Kmg vnworthye was
32 the royall crowne to weare ?

declares

Hereford has
[page 2(Hi] talked
treason,

" wherfore, my gracyous Lords" quoth, hee,

" & you, his Noble Peeres,
to whom I wish long liffe to bee,
36 with many happy yeeres,

1 Only half the u in the MS.— F.

2 MS. time.— F.

240

and avows

he is a
traitor.

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

" I doe pronounce before you all
the cluke of Hereford here,

a traytour to our Noble Kinge,
as time shall show itt clere."

Hereford the Duke of Herefford hearing that,

in mind was greeved much,
& did returne this answer matt,
4 4 which did Duke Norfolke tuche ;

hurls back
his accusa-
tion in his
face,

" the terme of Tray tor, trothelesse Duke,

in scorne & deepe disdaine,
With matt deffyance to thy face *
48 I doe returne againe !

and craves
leave to fight
Norfolk.

" & therfore, if it please jour grace

to grant me grace," quoth hee,
" to combatt with my knowen ffoe
52 that hath accused mee,

The King
grants it,
and fixes
Coventry as
the place.

" I doe not doubt but plainlye proue,

that like a pmured knight
hee hath most falslye sought my shame
56 against all truth & right."

the King did grant their iust request,

& did therto agree,
att Couentry in August next
60 this combatt fought shold bee.

The Dukes

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 flight

1 There is a stroke between the c and e in the MS. — F.

HEKEFFOKD AND NORFOLKE.

241

the King then cast his warder downe,

com m an ding them to stay ;
& with his Lords some councell tooke
68 to stint that Mortall ffraye.

att lenght vnto the Noble Duke[s]

the King of Heralds came,
& vnto them with loftye speech
72 this sentence did proclaime :

" with Henery Bullenbrooke this day,

the Duke of Hereford here,
& Thomas MaAvbray, 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 payne of death,
84 while 10 yeeres space doth last.

" & Thomas, duke of Norfolke, thou

that hast begun this striffe, —
& therfore noe good proue can bring,
88 I say, — for terme of liffe,

" by iudgment of our souerraine Lore?

which, now in place doth stand,
for euermore I banish thee
92 out off thy Natiue Land,

" charging thee on payne of death,

when 15 dayes are past,
thou neuer treade on English ground
96 soe long as liffe doth last."
VOL. II. n

but the King
stops the
combat,

and a Herald

proclaims
his judg-
ment.

Hereford

is banished
for ten
years ;

Norfolk

for life ;

and both
must go in
fifteen days

242

Each swears

not to go
where the
other is.

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

thus were the sworne before the ~King

ere they did further passe,
the one shold neuer come in place
100 wheras the other was.

then both the dukes with, heaiuy hart

were parted presentlye,
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 with, speed may burst
112 my sore afflicted hart !

" accursed man, whose lothed liffe

is held soe much in scorne,
whose companye 1 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,
w7iich 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,
that I might haue my bones entombed
124 where I was bredd and borne :

1 In the MS. there is only one stroke for the ». — F.

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

243

128

"or that by Neptunes rathfull rage,

I might be prest to dye,
while that sweet Englands pleasant bankes

did stand before mine eye.

or that I
might die
now !

" how sweete a sent hath Englands ground

within 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 minde,
that in all other countreys sure,
136 the like I shall not ffinde.

There are no
such fields
abroad.

" oh that the sun l 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,

" & that they true performed tyde

their hasty course wold stay,
that iEolus wold neuer yeeld
144 to bring me hence away !

" that by the fountaine of mine eyes

the ffeldes might wattered bee,
that I might graue my greevous plaints
148 vpon eche springing tree !

and that I
could grave
my plaints
on the trees 1

" 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.

1 MS. or that the shuning. — F.
e 2

244

HERKFFOUD AND NOItFOLKE.

" the ffatall hower draweth on,

the winds & tydes agree ;
& now, sweet England, ouer soone
156 I must depart from thee !

the sailors
call me.

"the Mariners haue hoysed sayle,

& call to catch me in,
& in [my] woefull hart doe l feele
160 my torments to begin.

Farewell,
sweet Eng-
land,

I kiss thy
soil

to show how
I loved
thee."

164

"wherfore, farwell for enermore,
Sweet England, vnto thee !

& farewell all my freinds w7«'ch I
agraine shall neuer see !

" & England, heere I kisse the ground

vpon my bended knee,
herby to shew to all they world
168 how deere I loued thee."

Hereford
goes,

and dies in
Venice.

this being 2 sayd, away he went

As fortune did him guide ;
and att the lenght, with, greefe of hart,
172 in Venis 3 there he dyed.

[page 26S]

Norfolk

lives in
France,

is promoted,

the other duke in dolefull sort
did lead his liffe in ffrance,
& at the last the mightye Lord
176 did him ffull hiye advance.

recalled to
England

while

Richard II.
wars in
Ireland,

the Lords of England afterwards

did send for him. againe,
while that YLing Richard 4 in the warres
180 in Ireland did remaine ;

1 T.— F.

'-' A de follows in the MS., but is
crossed out. — F.

3 or Veins, MS.— F.

4 The d has a curl like s to it. — F.

HEREFFORD AND NORFOLKE.

245

184

-who thro l the -vale and great abuse
which through his deeds did springe,

deposed was, & then the duke
was truly crowned Kinge.

ffins.

and is

crowned

King.

1 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

30ure peple bothe ;
Ffor thoru the wyles and wronge and

wast in }oure tyme,
je were lyghtlich y-lyste ffrom that 3011

leef thovi3te,
And ffrom 3oure willffull werkis, 3oure

will was chaungid,
And rafte was 3oure riott, and rest, ffor

30ure daie3
Weren wikkid thoru 30ure cursid eoun-

ceill, 3oure karis weren newed,

And coveitise hath crasid 30ure croune

ffor evere.
Of a-legeaunce 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 la we with love well

y-temprid. — F.

246

Slates; : ffalL 1

This ballad is given in the Reliqn.es " (with corrections 2 ) 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' Registers 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 ? Who was the first frail
woman ? who the first false man ? It touchingly illustrates
Goldsmith's pathetic lines :

When lovely •woman stoops to folly

And finds too late that men betray,
"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
fulfdment of her lover's promises :

1 In y<= printed Collection of Old Ballads, 1727, Vol. i. p. 244. N. xxxiv.— P.

2 Noticed in the 4th edition only. — F.

LADYES FALL.

24:

If any person she had spied

Come riding o'er the plain,
She thought 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,
& needfully beare in yoz^r brest
4 a gallant Ladyes fall.

long was shee wooed ere shee was woone

to lead a wedded liffe,
but folly rought her ouertkrowe
8 before shee was a wiffe ;

to soone, alas ! she gaue consent,

& yeeleded to his will,
tho 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, 1
16 her strenght began to fayle.

& soe 2 w/th many a sorrowffull sighe,

this bewtious Ladye Milde
with greeued hart perceiued her selfe
20 to be 3 concerned 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.

1 Her lovelye cheeks chang'd color
white. — Bel. 1st ed. (only partly collated.
-F.)

2 Soe that.— Bel.

3 have. — Bel.

248

LADYES FALL.

She hid it
from her
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 bewray,
& walking with him, hand in hand,
28 these words to him did say :

" behold," quoth, shee, " a Ladyes distresse

by lone brought to jour bowe ;
see how I goe with chyld with 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 ! 2

to remember
his promises,

" thinke on thy former promises,
thy words & vowes eche one !
remember with what bitter teares
40 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 liffe,
44 lest further shame proceede ! ' ;

Her lover
makes ex-
cuses :

" alacke, my derest loue ! " quoth, hee,

"my greatest Ioy on earthe !
w7iich way shold I conuay you hence
48 to scape 3 a sudden death ?

1 It preceded its as the gen. neuter of
ke.—F. its.— Bel.

2 Bel. inserts four lines here.-

3 without. — Bel.

LADYES FALL.

249

"ycrar freinds are all of live degree,

& I of rueane estate ;
ffull hard itt is to gett you. forthe
52 out of jour ffathers gate."

[page 269]

how can he
get her away
from her
home ?

" dread not jour liffe to saue yo»r fame !

for if you taken bee,
my selfe will step betweene the sword
56 to take the liarme of tliee ;

She pays

she will save
him from
harm,

" soe may you l scape dishonor quite.

if soe you 2 shold be slaine,
what cold they say, but that true loue
60 had wrought a Ladyes paine 3 ?

" but feare not any further harme
my selfe will soe devise,

I will safely e ryd 4 wrth thee
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."

" & there," quoth, hee, " He meete my deere-

if god doe lend me liffe — -
on this day month without all fayle ;
72 He make thee then my wiffe."

disguised as
a page.

He agrees to
meet her
that day
month.

& with a sweet & louing kisse

they parted presentlye,
& att their partinge brinish 5 teares
'6 stoode in eche others eye.

They kiss
and part.

1 shall I.— Bel.

2 ? I.— F. and if I.— Bel.

3 bane. — P. and Bel.

4 ryde away.— Bel.

5 ? MS. ; perhaps it is bainish.

250

LADYES FALL.

On the day

fixed

the lady is

ready,

but her lover
never comes.

She weeps,

reproaches
her false
lover,

and wishes
she had
never
trusted him.

Grieving, she
goes home,

att lenght the wished day was come

wherin l this lonely Mayd
with longing eyes & strange attire
80 for her true louer 2 stayd.

if any person shee had spyed 3

came ryding ore the plaine,
shee thought 4 itt was her owne true lone ;

but all her hopes was vaine !

then did shee weepe, & soer bewayle

her most vnhappy fate ;
then did shee speake these wofnll words

when sncconrles shee sate :

" ffalse, fforsworne, ffaithelesse man !

disloyall in thy lone !
hast thon fforgott thy promise past,
92 & wilt thon periured prooue ?

" & hast thon now fforsaken mee

in this my greate distresse,
to end my dayes in heauinesse 5

wlu'ch well thou might 6 redresse ?

" woe worth 7 the time I did beleeue 8

that mattering toung of thine !
wold god that I had neuer seene
100 the teares of thy false eyen ! "

soe that yvith. many a grieuous groane 9

homewards shee went amaine.
noe rest came in her waterye eyes,
104 shee found 10 such priuy payne.

1 On which. — Bel.

2 ? MS. loves.— F.

3 When any person she espyed. — Bel.
* hoped. — Bel.

s open shame. — Bel.

" thou mightst well. — Bel.

7 he to ; A.-S. wcorthan, to hecome, he.
— F.

8 I e'er believ'd. — Bel.

9 sorrowful sigh. — Bel.
10 Mt.— Bel.

LADYES FALL.

251

108

in trauell strong slice fell that night

with many a bitter thraw l : —
what woefull paines sliee felt that night 2
doth eche good woman knowe ! —

i< taken with

childbirth

pangs,

shee called vp her waiting mayds

who lay att her bedds feete, 3
and mnsing at her great 4 woe
112 began full fast to weepe.

calls np her
maids,

"weepe nott," shee sayth, " but shutt the dores

& windowes all about ;
let none bewray my wretched state,
116 but keepe all persons out ! "

" Mistrus ! call jour mother here ;

of women you haue neede ;
& to some skilfull midwiffe helpe
120 the better may you speed."

has the
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 midwiffes helpe comes all to late ;
124 my death I doe not feare."

She refuses.

[page 270]

with that the babe sprang from her wombe,

noe creature being by, 5
& with one sighe w7«'ch brake her hart
128 this gallant dame did dye.

gives birth
to a babe,

and dies.

the litle louely infant younge,

the pretty smiling babe, 6
resigned itt new receiued berath
132 to him that had it made.

Her babe
dies too.

1 throwe. — Rel.

2 then did feel.— Rel.

3 A curl at the end like another e.— F.

* Who musing at her mistress. — Rel.

5 nye. — Rel.

B The mother being dead. — Rel.

252

LADYES FALL.

Her lover
comes, and

kills himself.

136

next morning came her owne true lone

affrighted with this newes,
& he for sorrow slew himselfe,

whom eche one did accuse.

Mother and
babe are
buried
together.

the Mother with her new borne babe

were laide both in one graue ;
their parents, ouerworne 1 with, woe,
140 noe Ioy that they 2 cold haae.

Damsels!
ware flat-
tering
words!

144

take [heed] you dayntye damsells all ;

of mattering words beware ;
& to the honor of jour name

haue you a specyall care. 3

ffilis.

overcome.-

-Rel.

jcy thenceforth. — Rel.
The Reliques add :

Too true, alas ! this story is,

As many one can tell.
By others harmes learne to be wise,

And you shall do full well.

25:

asurkmpm fcrtrapfc : by Eamsiter* 1

In the late autumn of 1483, the nobles who had previously
determined to put an end to the usurpation of Kichard the
Third, and who had lately heard of the murder of the young
Princes, fixed on Henry of Richmond 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. Richard was 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 Duke, in a similar
dress, reached the hut of Banister, one of Jtis servants in
Shropshire, where he teas betrayed by tlte perfidy of his host. If
he hoped for pardon on the merit of his former services, he had

1 There is another Song on this Subject in the printed Collect wn 1-".'° 173S,
Vol. 3* p. 38. N. 5.— P.

254 BUCKINGHAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER.

mistaken the character of Eichard. 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 Great 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 :

Thus 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 up 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 begins thus :—

BUCKINGAM BETBAYD 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.

IOU: Barons bold, ma[r]ke ' and behold

the thinge that I will rite 2 ;
a story strange & yett most true
I purpose to Endite. 3

A strange
true tale I
tell.

ffor the Noble Peere while he lined heere,

the dnke of Buckingam,
he fflourisht in King Edwards time,

the 4"? King of that name.

The Duke of
Buckingham

in his service there he kept a man

of meane & low degree,
whom he brought vp then of a chyld
12 from basenesse to dignity e ;

he gaue him lands & linings good

wherto he was noe heyre,
& then 4 mached 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 surpasse 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 braue as Banister ?

or who durst w/th him contend ?
■which. 5 wold not be desirous still
24 to be his daylye freind ?

none dares
strive with
Banister.

1 mark. — P. 2 write. — P.

3 Only half the n in the MS.— F.

* This and 19 other words in different

places are marked in red brackets, for
omission. — P.
s who. — P.

256

BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER.

for then ' it came to passe ; more woe, alas !

for 2 sorrowes then began;
for why, the Master was constraint:! 3

to seeke snccour of his man.

Richard III.

murders •
the princes ;

Buckingham
raises a host
to avenge
them;

but his men
flee from
Richard's

army,

and he flees

to Banister

to hide him.

then Richard the 3 d . swaying the sword,

cryed himselfe a kinge, 4
murthered 2 princes in their bedds,
32 w7iich deede great striffe did bringe.

& then the duke of Buckingam,

hating this bloody deede,
against the tyrant raysed an Oaste
36 of armed men indeed.

& when ~King 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 ffilled 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, 5

& 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 6 Enemyes
52 that here accuseth 7 niee."

[page 271]

1 Now it.— P.

2 such. — P.

3 The M r . was constrained to seek.
-P.

4 Himself proclaimed king. — P.

5 Part of the line pared off the MS.
— F.

6 One stroke too few in the MS.— F.

7 persueth (in red ink : by Percy in
his late hand.— F.)

BUCKIiNGAM BETKAY1) BY BAM.STER.

" 0, you be welcome, my LorrZ ! " hee sayes,

" jour grace is welcome here !
& as my liffe He keepe yoti safe,
56 although it cost me deere ! "

" be true, sweete Banister ! " sayes hee,

O sweete Banister, be true ! "
" christs curse," he 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 Ierkyn l on his backe,

& lethern slopps 2 alsoe,
a heidging bill vpon his backe,
68 & soe into the woods did goe !

an old felt hat vppon his head,

w/'th 20 holes therin ;
& soe in labor he spent the time,
72 as tho some drudge he had beene.

& there he liued long vnknowen,

& still vnknowne might bee,
till Banister for hope of gaine
76 betrayd him Iudaslye.

2o7

Banister

vows to keop
him safe,

"Christ's
curse on
me it I be
false ! "

Buckingham
takes oft his
velvet
clothes,

dresses as a
woodman,

and works
away

in safet3 T .

for a proclamation there was made,
' whosoeuer then cold bringe

newes of the Duke of Buckingam
to Richard then our Kinge,

But Richard

1 Languedoc jhergaon, an over-coat ; grave ; in Wedgwood. — F.

Fr. Jargcot, Jargot, a kind of course 2 slopps, A kind of open breeches,

garment worne by countrey people. Cot- trowsers. Johnson. — P.

VOL. ir. s

258

BUCKINGAM BETKAYD BY BANISTER.

offers 1000
marks

and knight-
hood, for
news of
Bucking-
ham.

Banister
betrays his
master.

' a 1000 markes shalbe his flee
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 lncre of that See.

Buckingham
is seized.

a herald of amies there was sent,

& men with weapons good,
who did attach this noble Duke

where he was labouring in the wood.

He re-
proaches
Banister,

" Ah, ffalse Banister ! a, wreched man !

Ah, Caitiffe ! " then sayes hee ;
" haue I maintained thy poore estate
96 to deale thus Iudaslye ?

" alas that euer I beleeued

that mattering tounge of thine !
woe worth the time that euer I see
100 that false Bodye of thine ! "

but is be-
headed at
Salisbury.

then ffraught with feare & many a teare,

with sorrowes almost dead,
this noble Duke of Buckingam
104 att Salsbury l lost his head.

Banister

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 liffe to 2 saue.

1 query Shrewsbury. — P.

2 hard his life could. — P.

BUCKINGAM BETRAYD BY BANISTER.

259

112

small ffreinds lie found in his distresse,
nor any comfort in his need,

but euery man reuiled him

[for] this 1 his trecherous deede.

reviled by
all,

& then, according to Ids wishe,

gods Iudgments did on him fall ;
his children were consumed quite,
1 1 6 his goods were wasted all ;

[page 272]

ffor one of his sones for greeffe Starke madd did fall ; 2

the other ffor sorrow drowned was
w/thin 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.

his 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, 3

in goodness still to proceed ;
& send euery 4 distressed man
132 a better ffreind att need ! ffillS.

He lives in
shame and
dies.

God send

all in need
a better
friend I

1 for this. Qu.— P.

2 stark mad did fall.— P. This line is
made two in the MS. Starke begins
p. 272.— P.

3 Our k? G<? bless And grant his
grace. — P.

4 to each. — P.

s 2

260

Tnis ballad is printed in the Reliques } vo]. 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 Riccio, but in order to pave the
way for his own marriage with the queen.

1 On the Murther of David Riccio and of the king of Scotts. Written while the
Queen of Scotts was in England.— P.

EARLE RODWELL.

261

This ballad (printed ' 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 thee, woe worth thee, false Scottlande

ffor thou hast euer wrought by a 2 sleight ;
for 2 the worthyest Prince that euer was borne,
4 you hanged vnder a cloud by night !

the queene of ffrance a letter wrote,

& sealed itt 3 with hart and ringe ;
& bade him come Scottland within,
8 & shee wold marry him 2 & crowne him K.ing.

to be a K.ing, itt 2 is a pleasant thing ;

to bee 4 a Prince vnto a Peere ;
but you haue heard, & so haue I too, 2
1 2 a man may well by 5 gold to deere.

there was an Italyan in that place,

was as welbeloved as euer was hee ;
LorcZ David 6 was his name,
16 chamberlain e 7 vnto the Queene was hee.

ffor 8 if the King had risen forth 2 of his place,

he wold haue sitt 9 him downe in the cheare, 10
& tho itt u beseemed him not soe well,
20 altho the King had beene 12 present there.

Woe to yon,
Scotland,

you've
hanged the
best of
Princes !

Queen Mary
bade him
come and
marry her ;

but .=he had
an insolent
Chamber-
lain, Rizzio,

1 So in 2nd and 3rd editions too :
" printed with a few corrections/' 4th ed.
— F.

2 Rel. omits these. — F. 4th and 2nd
and 3rd editions restore too, 1. 11.

3 it.— AW. itt.— 4th ed.

4 be. — Rel. hee. — 4th <d.

5 buy.— P.

6 And Da v'.' R'zzio — qu. David Elzzio.

7 Lord Chamberl? .—P.

8 from. — P.

9 sate.— Rel.

10 i' th' chaire. — Rel. in the cheare. —
4th ed.

11 although it.— Bel. And tho itt.—
4th ed.

vz And tho .... were. — P.
Although . . had biene. — ith ed.

Bi I.

* And David Riecio. — Rel. Lord David. — \t/i ed.

262

EAELE BODWELL.

and some
Scotch lords

stabbed him. 24

some lords in Scottland waxed wonderous l wroth,
& quarrelld with him for the nonce 2 :

I shall you tell 3 how itt beffell ;

12 daggers were in him all x att once.

The Queen
was wroth,

when this queene see the 4 Chamberlaine was x slaine,

for him her 5 cheeks shee did weete,
& made a vow for a 12 month & a day 6
28 the Kmg & shee 7 wold not come in one sheete.

and other
Lords

vowed to
kill the
King.

then some of the Lorc/s of Scottland 8 waxed wrothe,

& made their vow 9 vehementlye,
' for death of the queenes l0 Chamberlahje n
32 the I\.ing himselfe he shall dye.' 12

they strowed his chamber ouer with gunpowder, 13

& layd greene rushes in Lis way ;
ffor the traitors thought that u night
36 the 15 worthy king for to betray. 10

They set
fire to his
bedroom.

to bedd the worthy K.!ng made 17 him bowne ; 1J

to take his rest, that l9 was his desire ;
he was noe sooner cast on sleepee, 20
40 but his chamber was on a biasing fyer. 21

he jumped
out of
window,

vp he lope, & a glasse 22 window broke ;
he 23 had 30 foote for to ffall.

ed.

1 Bel. omits these. — F.

2 ? MS. noncett, with tt blotted out.
F. nonce. — Bel.

3 And I shall tell.— Bel. ith
omits And.

4 the queen she saw her. — Bel.
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.— Bel.
For the death of the queenes. — ith ed.

5
6
7
8
S
10

" Queen's Lo. Clr? .— P.

12 How he, the king himself sh<? dye.
— P. and. — Bel. The king himselfe
how he shall dye. — ith ed.

13 with Gunpowd^ they strew"? his
room. — P.

14 very.— P. 15 this.— Bel.

16 hetraye. — Bel. betray. — 4tth id.

17 the k? he made — P.

ls ready, paratus. Lye. — P.
13 omitted. — Bel.

20 sleepe. — Bel.

21 it was all on fire. — P.

22 and the.— Bel. 23 And.— P.

EAELE BODWELL.

263

Lord Bodwell kept a priuy wach
44 vndemeath l his castle wall.

" who haue wee 2 heere ? " sayd Lord Bodwell ;
" answer me, now I doe call." 3

and was
caught by
Lord
Bothwell,

" 'King Henery the 8 4 . h my vnckle was ;
48 some pitty show for his sweet sake ! 4
" Ah, Lore? Bodwell ! I know thee well ;
some pitty on me I pray thee take ! "

whom he
prayed for

" He 5 pitty thee as much," he sayd,
52 " & as much favor 6 He show to thee
As thou had on the Queenes Chamberlaine
that day thou deemedst 7 him to dye. 8 "

[page 273]

But Both-
well would
have none,

through halls & towers this 9 King they Ledd,
56 through castles & towers l0 that were hye, u
through an arbor into an orchard,

& there hanged him in a peare tree. 12

and hanged
him on a
pear-tree.

when the gouemor of Scottland he l3 heard tell 13
60 that 14 the worthye king he 13 was slaine,
he hath banished 15 the Queene soe bitterlye
that in Scottland shee dare not remaine ;

The Go-
vernor
cursed Mary,

1 all unci? &c. — P. All underneath.
— Bel. Underneath his. — 4th ed.

2 we. — Bel. wee. — 4th ed.

3 Now answer me that I may know.
—Bel.

4 For his sweete sake some pitty
show. — Bel.

The next two lines Percy has altered
into

Who have we here ? lord Bodwell sayd,
Now answer me when I doe speake. — P.

s I'll.— Bel.

6 favour. — Bel. favor. — 4th ed.

7 i.e. doomedst — deem, est opinari,
oensere, judicare. Jun. — P. 1. 51 is
partly pared off the MS. — F.

8 dye. — Bel. die, — with the note
" Pronounced after the northern manner
dee. " in ed s . 2, 3, 4.

9 the.— P.

10 thro' towers & castles, &c. — P.

11 nye. — Bel.

12 There on a peare- tree hangd him
hye. — Bel.

13 omitted.— Bel. u how that.— P.
15 He persued. — Bel. ? banish = ban,

curse. — P.

264

EAELE BOB-WELL.

and she fled
to England,

where she
now is.

but shee is filed into Merry England,
64 & Scottland to aside hath laine ; l

& through the Queene of Englands good 2 grace
now in England shee doth remaine. 3

flins.

1 And here her residence hath tane.
-Rcl. A change not for the better.
-F.

2 omitted.— Rel.

3 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 Reliques has 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 Kiecio

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.

wee

51.

hee

52.

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 write he changed back, for Mr. David
Laing says that a friend of Percy's and
his assured him that Percy himself
edited the fourth edition of the Reliques,
and that with great care, though he let
his nephew, in the Advertisement to that
edition, take the responsibility of it off
his own episcopal shoulders, supposed to
be burdened with "more important"
matters. It is, indeed, evident that the
many changes made in the text of the
fourth edition must have been carefully
considered by Percy r , 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 Charnber-
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 Eoxburghe Ballads.)

1 N.B. This Copy is very imperfect. liques, 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 ballad stanzas, while the present one lias only

is alluded to. — P. The title in the Be- 10, and two of these aro incomplete. — F.

VOL. ir. T

266

BISHOPPE AND BROWNE.

How sad
that subjects
can't be
true !

1ESUS god ! what l greeffe is this

that Princes subiects cannot be true !
but still the devill & 2 some of his
4 doth play his part, as plaine is in shew. 3

in Scotland in Scottland dwelles a bony king,

as proper a youth as any can bee ;
hee is giuen to euery bappy 4 thing
8 that can be in a Prince to see. 5

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 pittiauslye,
"helpe ! or else the King must dye ! ''

Browne

sprang

forward,

leapt out of
a window,

& Browne being 6 an Englishman,
1 6 he did heare 7 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. 8

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 ;

1 Out alas ! what a. — Bel.

2 hath.— Bel.

3 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.

4 The y is made over an h in the MS-
-F.

5 Bel. adds : —

Yet that unluckie countrie still
Hath people given to craftie will,
Alas for woe, &c.

6 One Browne that was. — Bel.

7 And hard. — Bel.

8 MS. at last lope hee.— F. Out of a
window he got at last. — Bel.

BISIIOPPE AND BROWNE.

267

24 he bade him soe boldleye stay & stand,
w^'th him were 2 that ran awaye
for feare lest browne shold make a fray.

" Bishopp," said Browne, " what hast thou there ?"
28 "nothing at all, my ffreinde, 1 " Qitoth hee,

"but a possett to make the King good cheere."
"is itt soe ? " sayd Browne, " that will I see ;

before thou goe any further inn,
32 of this possett thou shalt begin."

poisoned
posset,

" Browne," said the Bishopp, " I know thee well ;

thou art a yong man both pore & bare ;
& liuings 2 of 3 thee I shall bestowe ;
36 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, 4 or for woe be itt,
40 drinke thou off this sorrowfull possett."

the Bishopp dranke ; then by & by
his belly burst, & he ffell downe :
a iust reward for his traitorye.
44 " 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,
«.S he meekelye fell downe on his knee,

& thanked god that he did misse
then of this false trecherye ;

& then he did perceiue & know
52 that his clergye wold haue him betraid [so. 5 ]

rejected his
bribes to be
quiet,

and made

the Bishop
drink the
posset.
The Bishop
burst and
died.

King James

thanked

God,

1 The last e is made over an s in the
MS.— F.

2 Only half the n in the MS.— F.

3 on. — Eel.

1 i.e. sorrow: tmless it be corruptly

written for weal, welfare, good : written
by the Scots weil, wele. — P.

3 Eel. inserts another stanza here,
and adds fonr 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^ e pounds [a yeere.]
dough tye Browne, [i'] the like case,
56 he dubbd him Knight with gallant cheere,
bestowed vpon him liuings great
[For dooing such a manly feat. 1 ]

ffins.

1 Last line cut away in the MS. ;
supplied here from the Eel., which adds :
As he did showe, to the bishop's woe,
Which made &c.

and then four more stanzas about a fresh
attempt to make away with the King.
— F.

269

CI) litre OTatersu 1 t***w

Tins 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-
what 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 2 (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-
brown 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

1 A Tryal of female Affection not 2 This Buchan (whom I once en-

unlike the Nut-brown Maid. Shewing deavoured to assist in his poverty by

how child Waters made his M? undergo procuring purchasers for his books) was

many Hardships, & afterw«rds 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 complain e

Affermyng this

How that it is

A labour spent in vaine

To love them wele

For never a dele

They lore 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 noixght

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, 1 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

1 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. Soc. 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, " Lullaby, my own dear child,

Lullaby, 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 him came a ffaire young Ladye
4 as ere did weare l womans wee[de 2 ;]

To Childc
Waters

comes fail-
Ellen,

saies, " christ you saue, good Chyld waters !

sayes, " christ you saue and see !
my girdle of gold w/a'ch was too longe
8 is now to short ffor mee ;

says,

ware.

ever ware.-

-Ed.

'-' weed. — P.

272

CHILDE WATERS.

" I am with

child by
you."

" & all is with, one 1 dry Id of yours,

I ffeele sturre att my side,
my gowne of greene, it is to strayght ;

before it was to wide."

' If so,

" if the child be mine, 2 faire Ellen," he sayd,

" be mine, as you tell mee,
take 3 you Cheshire & Lancashire both,

take
Cheshire and

Lancashire, 1 G take them jour owne to bee

and make
tbe child
your heir."'

"if the child be mine, ffaire Ellen," he said,

" be mine, as you doe sweare,
take you Cheshire & Lancashire both,
20 & make that child jouv heyre."

" I'd rather
have a kiss

shee saies, " I had rather haue one kisse,

child waters, of thy mouth,
then I wold haue Cheshire & lancashire both,
24 that lyes 4 by north & south.

and a look
from you,
than your
counties."

" & I had rather haue a twinkling,

Child waters, of jour eye, 5
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 6 the North countrye
the ffairest Lady that I can ffind,

Ellen, must goe with mee." 7
" & euer I pray you, Child watters,

yo?tr ffootpage let me bee ! "

1 a.— P.

2 Only one stroke for the m. — F. be
mine. — P.

3 Then take.— Bel.
1 lye.— P.

5 thine ee. — Eel.

6 far into. — P.

7 The Reliques 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.

CniLDE WATERS.

273

" if you will my ffootpage be, Ellen,
36 as you doe tell itt mee,

then you must cutt your gownne of greene
an inche aboue yowr knee ;

" soe must you doe yowr yellow lockes,
40 another inch 1 aboue your eye ;

you must tell noe man what is my name ;
my ffootpage then you shall bee."

all this 2 long day Child waters rode,
4 i shee ran bare fFoote 3 by his side ;

yett was he neuer soe curteous a K.niyht,
to say, " Ellen, will you ryde ? "

but all this day Child waters rode,
48 shee ran 4 barffoote thorow the broome !

yett he was 5 neuer soe curteous a Knight
as to say, " put on jotir shoone."

"ride softlye," shee said, 6 " Child watters ;
52 why doe you ryde soe ffast ?

the child, which is no mans but yours, 7
my bodye itt will burst. 8 "

he sayes, 9 " sees thou yonder l0 water, Ellen,
50 that fflowes from banke to brim ? "

"I trust to god, Child waters," shee said, 11
"you will neuer l2 see mee swime."

but when shee came to the waters side,
60 shee sayled to the Chinne :

"except the l3 hord of heauen be my speed,
now must I 14 learne to swime."

Ho agrees,

if she'll cut
her gown

and hair.

She runs
barefoot by
his side

all day thro'

the broom.

Ride softly,
she says.

He makes
her

1 an inch. — P.

2 Shee all the. — Eel. and omits ' shee '
in the next line. — F.

3 Shee all the long day (that) Ch. Wat.
rode, ran barefoot. — P.

4 She all the, long day'Ch. W. rode,

Kan.— P.

5 was he.— P. 6 0.— P.

7 thine.— P. s brast.— P.

9 Hee sayth — Eel. 10 yond.— P.

11 I trust in God Child Waters.
-Eel. 12 you'll never. — P. not. — P.
13 but the.— P. Now the.— Eel. and P.
1 ' For I must. — Eel.

274

CHILDE WATERS.

swim thro'
the water.

the salt waters bare vp Ellens ' clothes ;
64 our Ladye bare vpp he[r] chinne ;

& Child waters was a woe man, 2 good Lore?, 3
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 ?

of redd gold shine the yates 4 ;
theres 24 nay re ladyes, 5

the ffairest is my wordlye make.

" Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen ?

of redd gold shineth the tower ;
there is 7 24 ffaire Ladyes, 8

the fairest is my paramoure."

" I doe see the hall now, Child waters,
that of redd gold shineth the yates. 9

god giue 10 good then of jour selfe,
& of jour wordlye make 1 1 !

" I doe see the hall now, Child waters,
that of redd gold shineth the tower.

god giue 12 good then of jour selfe
and of jour paramoure ! "

1 her.— Eel.

2 i. e. a woeful man. — P.

3 Ch. W. was a woe man good Lord.

4 shines [the] gate. — P.

5 Of twenty foure fayre ladyes there.
— Bel. of.— P.

6 mate : so the rhyme seems to require,
but Make signifies also a Mate, match, or
equal, a familiar companion, from A.-S.

maca, geinaca, par, socius, conjux. Vid.
Jun. Gloss. Sax. Voc. — P. Eel. omits
' wordlye.' — F.

7 There are .... there. — P.

8 Eel. adds ' there.'— F.

9 yate.— P.

10 [insert] you. — P.

11 worthy mate. — P.

12 [insert] you. — P.

CHILDE WATERS.

275

there were 24 Ladyes, 1
88 were 2 playing at the ball ;

& Ellen was 3 the ffairest Ladye, 4
must bring his steed to the stall.

She stables
his steed,

there were 24 faire Ladyes 5
02 was 6 playing att the Chesse ;

& Ellen shee was 7 the ffairest Ladye, 8
mnst bring his horsse to grasse.

& then bespake Child waters sister,
96 & 9 these were the words said shee ;

" you haue the prettyest ffootpage, brother,
that euer I saw 10 with mine eye,

and takes it
to grass.

His sister

asks that
his footpage

100

104

" but that his belly it is soe bigg,

his girdle goes ll wonderous hye ;
& euer I pray you, Child waters,

let him goe into the Chamber with mee. 12 " £7™

108

13 " it is more meete for a litle ffootpage
that has run through mosse and mire,

to take his supper vpon his knee
& sitt downe 14 by the kitchin fyer,

then to goe into the chamber wi'th any Ladye
that weares soe [rich] attyre. 15 "

with her.

Childe
Waters says
the page had

better sup
by the
kitchen fire.

1 ' were playing ' follows and is crossed
out. — F. There were 24 faire Ladies
there. — P. There twenty four ladyes
were. — Bel.

2 A.— Bel. A.— P.

3 that was, Qu. — P.

•' the fayrest ladye there. — Bel.

5 P. has written there at the end. —
F. Bel. omits ' were.'

6 a.— P.

7 that was, Qu.— P.

8 the fayrest ladye there. — Bel.

9 Bel. omits &.— F.

10 I did see. — P. I did see. — Eel.

11 is.— P.

12 in my chamber lie. — P.

13 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 and
myre,

To lye in the chamber of any lady
That weares soe riche attyre.

11 And lye.— Bel.

15 rich attyre, Qu. — P.

276

CHILDE WATERS.

He sends

Ellen

to hire a
prostitute
for him

and carry
her up to
him.

but when the had supped euery one,

to bedd they tooke they l way ;
he sayd, " come hither, my litle footpage,
1 12 hearken what I doe say !

" & goe thy downe into 2 yonder towne,

& low into the street ;
the ffarest Ladye that thou can find,
116 hyer her in mine armes to sleepe,
& take her vp in thine armes 2 3
for filinge 4 of her ffeete."

Ellen

hires the
woman

and carries
her up,

Ellen is gone into the towne,
120 & low into the streete :

the fairest Ladye that shee cold find,
shee hyred in his armes to sleepe,

& tooke her in her armes 2
124 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 your bedds feete ; 5
for there is noe place about this house
128 where I may say 6 a sleepe."

7 this, & itt droue now affterward 8

till itt was neere the day :
he sayd, " rise vp, my litle ffoote page,

& giue my steed corne & hay ;
& soe doe thou 9 the good blacke oates,

that he may carry me the 10 better away."

132

1 their. — P. they = the.— F.

2 thee into. — P. thee downe into.
— Bel.

3 twaine. — Bel.

4 i. e. for fear of defiling. — P.

5 Let me lie at your feet. — P. Let
me lye at your feete. — Bel.

6 Vide Liffe & Death. Pag. 384,
lin. 36 ; pag. 390, lin. 453 [of MS.]— P.
say = essay, try. — F.

7 In the Beliques a stanza is made of
the next two lines : —
lie 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.

9 This done, the night drove on apace.

9 And give him nowe. — Bel.
10 To carry mee. — Bel.

CHILDE WATERS.

277

And vp then rose l ffaire Ellen, [page 276]

136 & gaue 2 his steed corne & hay,

& soe shee did on 3 the good blacke oates,
that he might carry him the better 4 away.

shee layned 5 her backe to the Manger side,
140 & greiuonslye did groane ; 6
& that beheard his mother deere,
and 7 heard her make her moane.

She does it,

but groans,
for her pains
come on.
Childe
Waters's
mother

shee said, " rise vp, tlion Child waters !
144 I thinke thou art a 8 cursed man ;

for yonder is a ghost in thy 9 stable
that greiuouslye doth groane,

or else some woman laboures of 10 child,
148 shee is soe woe begone ! "

but vp then rose Child waters, 1 1

& did on his shirt of silke ;
then he put on his 12 other clothes
152 on his body as white as milke.

& when he came to the stable dore,

full still that hee did 13 stand,
that hee might heare now faire Ellen,
156 how shee made her monand 14 :

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

shee said, " lullaby e, my 15 owne deere child !

lullabye, deere child, deere !
I wold thy father were a king,
160 thy mother layd on a beere !

sing to her
child :

would that
his father
were a king,
she dead !

1 [insert] the. — P. 2 to give. — P.

3 Bel. omits on. — P.

4 to carry him th' bet. — P.

5 leaned. — P.

6 The Bcliques 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 ' woeful woe ; '
Shee sayd, Eise up, thou Childe Waters,

And into thy stable goe. — F.

7 she.— P.

8 thee a. — P.

9 the.— P.

10 with.— Bel.

" 'soon' is written at the end by P.
— F. J

12 and so he did his. — P.

13 there did he. — P.

11 monand, is moaning, i. c. moan. Lye.

15 mine. — Bel.

278

CHILDE WATERS.

Childe

Waters

promises

to marry

her.

1G4

"peace now," he said, " good faire Ellen !

& be of good cheere, I thee pray ;
& the Bridall, & the churching both,

they l shall bee vpon one day." 2

ffins.

1 Eel. 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 found in
Burger's melodious German ballad, en-
titled Graf Walter, which he professes to
have made nach clem Alt-en glischen, and
which follows Percy's edition pretty
closely. He has made it into a very
pleasing poem, having paraphrased it
after his own fashion with great artistic
skill.

Burger concludes thus :

" Sammt deinem Vater schreibe Gott
Dich in sein Segensbuch !
Werd' ihm und dir ein Purpurkleid,
Und mir ein Leichentuch ! "

" O nun, nun, suss, susse Maid,
Suss, susse Maid, halt ein !
Mein Busen ist ja nicht von Eis,
Und nicht von Marmelstein.

" nun, nun, siiss, susse Maid,
Siiss, susse 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 Elle"
as Die Entfuhrung. — Skeat.

279

£es5$te:off Betmall: 1

There are copies of this ballad in the Roxburghe 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 thought that to him too, as to
painters and poets,

Quidlibet 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 our 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 Robert Dodsley, author of The Economy of Human Life.
Eight new stanzas were substituted. " By the alteration of a

1 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 Ambree 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 Green, " was built by the blind Beggar
of Bednall Green, 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.

Kegium certe genus et penates

Moeret iniquos.
Crede non illam tibi de scelesta
Plebe dileetam.

BESSIE OFF BEUNALL.

281

ITT was a blind beggar that long lost his sight,
he had a faire daughter both pleasant & bright,
& many a gallant braue 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 heyre,
of ancyent houskeepers despised was shee,
8 whose sonnes came as sutors to prettye Bessye.

Wherefore in great sorrow faire Bessy did say,
" good ffather & 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 that 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 w7w'ch way to goe ;
ffrom ffather & mother alone p<z?*ted shee,
20 who sighed & sobbed for pretty Bessye.

Shee kept on her Iourney 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 M.aster & Mistress, and all, were her ffreind ;
& euery braue gallant that once did her see,
28 was straight-way in loue w/th 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,
Kumford,

and all the
gallants fell
in love with
her,

sang of her
beauty,

282

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

and did her
bidding.

Four suitors
sue her :

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 Ioy,
shee showed herseffe cnrteous, & neuer to coye ;
and att her commandement wold they [ever] bee,
36 soe ffayre 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 d a genteleman of good degree,
44 who wooed & sued ffor pretty Bessye ;

The 3 d . of them was a gallant young Knight,
& he came vnto her disguised in the nislit ;
her Mistress owne Sonne the 4 . man must bee,
48 who swore he wold dye ffor pretty Bessye.

" And if thou wilt wedd with me," quoth, the Knight,
" He make thee a Ladye With Ioy [and] delight ;
my hart is inthralled by thy bewtye !
52 then grant me thy ffavor, my pretty Bessye ! "

The gentleman sayd, " marry -with mee ;
in silke & in veluett my bessye shalbee ;
my hart lyes distressed; O helpe me ! " quoth hee,
56 " & 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 Iewells for thee ;
60 & 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 ffaithfull to me,
64 & you shall enioye jotir prettye Bessye."

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL,. 283

To euery one this answer shee made,
wherfore vnto her they Ioyffullye saycl,

" this thing to ffulfill wee doe all agree ; Who is he?

68 & where dwells thy ffather, my pretty Bessy ? "

" My ffather," shee said, " is soone to be seene ; The Blind

he is the blind beggar of Bednall greene, Bednall

that day lye sitts begging ffor charity e ;
72 he is the good ffather of pretty Bessye ;

Greene,

" his markes & his tokens are knowen ffull well, led by a dog

with a bell.

he alwayes is led w/th 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," quoth the Merchant, "thou art not for The

Merchant,

mee ! "

" nor," quoth, the Inh older, "my Wiffe thou shalt bee ! " innkeeper,

"I lothe," sayd the gentleman, " a beggars degree; andGentie-

80 therffore, ffarwell, my pretty Bessye ! " man cry off.

" Why then," q^oth the knight, " hap better or worsse, But the

. Knight says

I way not true loue by the waight of my pursse,
& bewtye is bewtye in euery degree,
84 then welcome to me, my pretty Bessye ! he'ii have

Bessy.

"With thee to thy ffather fforth will I goe."
" nay sofft," quoth his kinsman, " itt must not be soe ; His kinsman
a beggars daughter noe Ladye shalbe ;
88 therfere take thy due [leaue] of pretty Bessye."

But soone after this, by breake of the day, but he

CIITICS off

the knight ffrom Rumfford stole Bessye away. Bessy.

the younge men of Rumfford, as thicke as might bee, The Rum-

. , . -r, ford men

92 rode affter to ffeitch agarne pretty Bessye ;

As swift as they winde to ryd they were seene

vntill they came to Bednall greene ; overtake

& as the knight lighted most curteouslye,

96 the ffought against him for pretty Bessye ;

u 2

284

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

but he is
rescued.

The Blind
Beggar

offers to
give his girl
as much
gold as the
Knight's
kin will.

[page 278]

Agreed.

The Beggar
lays down
angels
against the
Knight's

till the
latter's store
is gone,

and then
gives 100?.
more.

But rescew speedilye came on the plaine,
or else the young knight ffor his loue had beene slaine.
this ffray being ended, then straight he did see
ion 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 velnett & pearle,
104 yett will I dropp angells with you for my girle ;

" 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.

" Butt ffirst I will heare, & haue itt well Knowen,
the gold that you drop shall all be jour 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 ffor the gentlemans one the beggar dropt twayne,

Soe that the place wherin the did sitt,
with gold was couered euery whitt.
the gentleman halving dropped all his store,
120 said, " Beggar, hold ! for wee haue noe more.

" Thou hast ffulfilled thy promise arright."
"then marry," quoth hee, " my girle to this ~Knight ;
& heere," quoth, hee, "He throw you downe
124 a 100" more to buy her a gowne."

The gentleman that all this treasure had seene,
admired the beggar of Bednall greene,
& those that were her sutors before,
128 their fflcsh for verry anger they tore.

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

285

Then was ffaire Bessye mached to the 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, and rn
& what braue Lords & ~Knights thither we[r]e prest, about°tbe

the 2 d . ffitt shall sett to sight, Fit"ii. ge m
136 with marueilous pleasure & wished delight.

140

2 d : 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
made.

This marryage through England was sp[r]ead by Nobles and

W 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 fon'ow

156 as went with Sweet Bessye of Bednall greene. church.

28G

BESSIE OFF EEDNALL.

After the
marriage,

comes the
feast,

This manyage being solempnizcd then
w('th musicke perfourmed by the skillfullest men,
the Nobles & gentles sate downe at that tyde,
160 each one beholding the beautifull bryde.

But after the sumptuous dinner was done,
to talke & to reason a number begunn
of the blind Beggars daughter most bright,
164 & what w^th his daughter he gaue to the Knight.

Then spake the Nobles, " most marueill haue wee,
ami then this lolly blind beo-o-ar wee cannott here see."

the Beggar J °°

tasked "my Lore?," said the Bride, " my father is soe base,

168 he is loth by his presence these states 1 to disgrace ;

" The prayse of a woman in questyon to bringe"
before her fface heere, were a flattering tiling."
? ess y' s " w °e thinke thy ffathers basenesse," quoth they,

basene 18 172 " m i»kt by * U J bewtye be cleane put awaye."

So the
Beggar
comes in

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 lute,

and sings a
song of"

And being led in, ffor catching of harme r 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."

With that his lute he twanged straight- way,
& there begann most sweetlye to play,
& after a lesson was playd 2 or 3 :
184 he strayned on this song most delicatelye:

Nobles.— F.

BESSIE OFF BEDN'ALL.

287

" A Beggars daughter did dwell on [a] greene,
who ffor her ffaire might well be a queene;
a blithe bonny Lasse, & daintye, was shee,
188 & many a one called her pretty Bessye."

" Her ffather hee had noe goods nor noe Lands,
but begd l 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 ;

the E<
daughter,

Pretty
Bessy,

whose father
gave her
3.000Z.,

" And if any one her birth doe disdaine,
her ffather is ready with might & With maine
to proove shee is come of a Noble degree ;
196 tlierfore neuer fflout att pretty Bessye."

and can
prove she's
of noble
birth.

With, that the LorcZs & the companye round
w/th harty Laughter were like to sound,
att last said the Lords, " 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
w/th the salt water within her faire eyes :
" pardon my ffather, graue Nobles," quoth, shee,
204 " that thorrow blind affection thus doteth on mee.'

Bessy begs
them to
excuse her
father's
praise of her.

" If this be thy ffather," the 2 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."

The Lords

ask

the Blind

i r to
confess who

he really is.

1 The g is made over a d in the MS.
-F.

2 The e is made over a^in the MS.
— F.

288

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

He tells
them.

216

" Then giue me leaue, you Gengells l eche one,
a song more to sing, then will I goe on ;
& if that itt may not winn good report,
then doe not giue me a groat for my sport.

With King
Henry,

<; When flirst our King his ffame did Advance,
& fought for his title in delicate fi'rance,
in many a place many perills past hee :
220 then was not borne my pretty Bessye.

went to
France
young
Mountford.

" And then in those warres went over to fight
many a braue duke, a hovel, & a Knight,
& with, them younge Mountford, his courage most free
224 but then was not borne my pretty Bessye.

At Blois he

was

■wounded,

" 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 nearly
his life,
but for a
young
woman

232

came to
Bcdnall
Greene,

" But there did younge Mountford, by blow on the

face,
loose both his eyes in a very short space ;
& alsoe his liff'e had beene gone with, his sight,
had not a younge woman come forth in the night

who saved
him.

Together
they begged ;

" Amongst the slaine men, as fancy did moue,
to search & to seeke for her owne true loue ;
& seeing young Mountford there gasping to bee,
236 shee sailed 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 ;

1 Gentles.— F.

BESSIE OFF BEDNALL.

289

" And thus wee haue liued in ffortunes despite,
tho » poore, yett contented with humble delight ;
& in my young 2 yeeres, a comfort to bee,
244 god sent mee my daughter, 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 imbrace,
saying, " thou art come of an honozwablle race ;
thy gather likewise of a highe degree,
256 & thou art well worthy a lady to bee ! "

The Beggar

embraces

Bessy,

Thus was the ffeast ended with Ioy & delight ;
a br[i]degrome [blissful] was the young knight,
who liued in Ioy & felicitye
260 with his ffaire Ladye, pretty Bessye.

ffins.

and she and
her Knight
live happily.

1 MS. the.— F.

2 ? old.— F.

290

[His great atchievements on an Embassy to france. — P.]

This piece is now printed from the 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 (rath 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-monger !

IHE : Court is kept att leeue London,
& euermore shall be itt ;
The King the King sent for a bold Embassador,

Spencer 4 & Sir Hugh Spencer that he hight.

1 The subject of this Ballad seems to be all-together fabulous. — P.

HUGH SPENCER.

291

" come hither, Spencer," saith our Kinge,
" & come thou hither vnto mee,

I must make thee an Emhassadour
betweene the Kmg of ffrance & mee.

to go to tlie
King of
France,

" thou must comend me to the Kmg of ffrance,

& tell him thus & now ffrom mee,
' I wold know whether there shold be peace in his land, and ask 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 x 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 2

the English souldiers to be-hold :
" you are welcome, traitors, out of England ;
24 the heads of you are bought and sold !"

The French

count on
their heads.

with that spake proud Spencer,

" my leege, soe itt may not bee !
I am sent an Embassador
28 ffrom our English King to yee.

Spencer says
he

comes from
the English
King

"the Kmg of England greetes you well,

& hath sent this word by mee ;
he wold know whether there shold be peace in jour to ask

_ whether it's

.Land, to be peace

or war.

or open warres kept still must bee.

1 the. — P. 2 There is a tag at the end of this word in the MS. — F.

292

HUGH SPENCEE.

War, says
the French
King;

" Comend me to the English Kinge,

& tell this now ffroni niee ;
There shall neuer peace be kept in my Land [ pag e 281]

while open warres 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 Kmg
to be in his chamber w^th his ladye,

then to be pleading w/th traitors out of England
kneeling low vppon their knee."

Spencer

calls her a
liar.

But then bespake him proud Spencer,
44 for noe man else durst speake but hee :
" you haue not wiped yowr 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

with a knight that 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?iotk shee, " beneath the knee
56 are verry small aboue the shinne
ffor to doe any such honoitrablle 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 SPEXCEK.

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 ffeicked out,
68 I -wis he was rnilke white.

the fnrst ffoot Spencer in stirropp sett, 1
his backe did from his belly type. 2

the 2? steed that he ffeitcht out,
72 I- wis 3 that hee was verry Browne ;
the 2? flbot Spencer in stirropp settt,
that horsse & man and all Sell downe.

1. a white

(whose back
breaks?),

2. a brown

(who

tumbles

down),

the 3? steed that hee ffeitched out,
76 I- wis that he was verry blacke ;

the 3? flbote 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

that I brought with me hither beyond the sea."

but when his hackney there was brought,
84 Spencer a merry man there was hee ;

saies, " with the grace of god & St. George of England, ™J h °P es t0
the ffeild this day shall goe with mee ! $* xvith

3. a black

which
Spencer
jumps on,

but soon
calls for his
old English
hack,

"I haue not fforgotten," Spencer sayd,
88 " since there was ffeild foughten att walsingam,
when the horsse did heare the trumpetts sound,
he did beare ore both horsse & man."

1 There is a curl between the c and t
in the MS.— F.

2 ? MS. tylpe, with the I crossed at
top : no doubt for tyte, quickly, or Sc.
tyte to snatch, draw suddenly, Du. tijden

to draw, goe. — F.

3 As the / wis is followed by that, it
may mean here ' I know,' and not be the
adverb ' certainly.' — F.

294

HUGH fcPEJNCER.

The joust
begins;

Spencer
breaks his
French spear
on his
opponent;

the day was sett, & togetther tliey mett
92 with great mirth & melodye,

with minstrells playing & truinpetts soundinge,
with drumes striking loud & hye.

the ffirst race that spencer run,
96 I- wis hee run itt wonderous sore ;
he [hit] the knight vpon his brest,

but his speare itt burst, & wold touch noe more.

asks for an
English one,

" but euer alacke," said Spencer then,
100 " for one staffe of the English countrye !

without youle bind me 3 together," [page 282]

quoth, hee, " theyle be to weake ffor mee."

with that bespake him the ffrench Knight,
104 sayes, " bind him together the whole 30 tye ,
for I haue more strenght in my to hands
then is in all Spencers bodye."

" but proue att parting," spencer sayes,
108 " ffrench Knight, here I tell itt thee,
for I will lay thee 5 to 4

the bigger man I proue to bee."

but the day was sett, & together they mett
112 wrth great mirth & melodye,

with minstrells playing & trumpetts soundinge,
with drummes strikeing loud & hye.

and Spencer the 2? race that Spencer run,

116 I- wis hee ridel itt in much pride,
unhorses the & ne hitt the Knight vpon the brest,

and bets the
Frenchman
five to four
he'll beat
him.

So they joust
again,

French
knight,

kills about
280 men,

& draue him ore his horsse beside.

but he run thorrow the ffrench campe ;
120 such a race was neuer run beffore ;
he killed of King Charles his men
att hand of 13 or 14 score.

HUGH SrENCER.

295

but he came backe againc to the K[ing]

124 & kneeled him downe vpon his knee, and tells

saies, " a knight I haue slaine, & a steed I haue woone, Charles of

it.

the best that is in this countrye."

" but nay, by my faith," said the King,
128 " Spencer, soe itt shall not bee ;
lie haue that traitors head of thine
to enter plea att my Iollye."

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 l 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 wt'th 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 2 you sett 3 ffoot on English ground,
you shall be hanged vpon 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."
ffillS.

Then
Charles
promises
peace.

1 MS. thcrof.-F.

2 on = an, if. — F.

3 ? MS. seitt or settt,— F.

296

lunge x filler : l

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 Reliques,

" I know not that ladye 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.

King Adler iVHSTGrE : Adler, as bee in his window Lay,

[nnto a stranger knight he did say,]
" I wold my lands they were as broada
4 as the red rose is in niy garden :
describes the there were not that woman this day aline,

wants. 6 I kept to bee my wedded wiffe,

without the 2 were as white as any milke
8 or as soft as any silke,

1 Poor stuff. — P. No doubt meant for a nursery tale. — F. 2 she. — F.

KINGE ADLER.

297

& they royall rich wine ran downe her brest bone,

& lord ! shee were & a leath * maiden."

" but Estmere our King has a daughter soe younge ;
12 god Lord ! shees as soft as any silke,

& as white as any milke,

the royall rich wine runes downe her brest bone,

& lord ! shee is a leath maiden."
16 " but will you goe vnto Kmg Ardine,

& will that ffaire Lady that shee wilbe mine ? "

Hee tooke the mood, & the winde was good, [ pag e 283]

vntill hee came vnto that Kings hall.
20 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 King Adler will my daughter winne,
24 • 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,
28 100 Shippes of wheat boulted flower,

100 Shippes of Ladyes bright,

100 Shippes of new dubbd knights.

yett he shall doe that is more pine,
32 he shall take the salt sea & turne itt to red wine ;

when hee has done all these deeds,

then my faire daughter shalbe his ;

but I haue sett her on such a pinn, 2
36 King Adler shall her neuer winne."

he tooke the flood, & they wind was good,

& neuer stayd in noe stead

vntill he came to Kinge Adler s hall.
40 he greeted them well both great & small,

A stranger
fays his
king has the
■ I ingnter to
suit Adler.

"Will you
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

1 Leath, soft, supple, limber, pliant,
Denbighshire ; in Halliwell's Gloss.
Lithe.— F.

2 ? high point, station, or ' fancy,

humour,' as in ' Each sett on a mery
pin,' Fryar § Boye, 1. 484, Lo. and Hum.
Songs, p. 28.— F.

VOL. II.

298

KINGE ADLER.

and gives
him

King

Estmere's
message :
the ship-
loads he's to
bring him,

and then
turn the sea
into wine.

Adlev 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 kaue beene att yonder 'Kings place
to speake with his daughter fayre of face ;
he 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,

52 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,

56 I tell you all in veretye ;

in Ladyes [clothes ! ] will yee mee bowne,
& bring mee to that Ladyes towne,
& boaird me there one yeere or towe

60 amongst those Ladyes for to 2 goe,
& board 3 me there yeeres 2 or 3 :
amongst those faire Ladyes for to bee."
he tooke the mood, & 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 your Ladyes for to goe."
these Ladyes sate all on a rowe ;

72 some began to cut silke, some for to sowe ;

1 clothes, qti. — P.

2 a K, seemingly marked out, stands
between to and goe. — F.

3 Mr. Gee, in his Vocabulary of B.
Words, gives board v. n. lodge, as early as
1390 a.d.— F.

KING ADLER.

299

the Kings daughter sayes, " yo^r ffingars are too
great,

or else yowr eyes beene out of seat, —

I tell you full soone anon, —
76 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,
80 & all the Ladyes euerye one

they cast it ouer 2 or 3 :

King Adler ffell with the Kings daughter to lye.

but when they were in bedd Laid,
84 these words vnto her then hee said ;

saies, " Lady, were that man this day aliue

that you wold be his wedded wiffe,

& were that man soe highlye borne
88 that you wold be his hend lemman ? "

" there is noe man this day aliue

I kept to be his wedded wiffe,

Without itt were King Adler, hee,
92 the noblest Knight in Christentye.

my father hath sett me on such a pinne, 1

King Adler must me neuer winne."

" but, Ladye, how & 2 soe betyde
96 King Adler were in jouy 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,
100 none of the Lords in jouy fathers hall ?

nor wold you not call them all by-deene,

jouy ffather the King, nor jouy mother the queene ?

but soe quickly you wold gett you bowne,
104 to goe with King Adler out of the towne ? "

sais shee, "if itt wold soe betyde

King Adler were in my bed hidd,

1 MS. pime.— F. 2 an, 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 ADLE1T.

" I wouldn't
call up my
ladies,

but would
go off with
Adlcr."

Adler

discovers

himself,

carries his
love off
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 flfather the King, nor my mother the Queene

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
120 that is 5 thousand fold."

"peace, faire Lady ! youst catch noe harme, 1

for I will carry you vnder mine arme."

he tooke the fflood, & the winde was good,
124 & 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.

1 harne in MS.— F.

Down the left margin of this p. 284
of the MS. is written :

my sweet brother sweet Cous Edward

And in the same hand are written on the
right of Terse 3 of " Boy and Mantle "
the sam and / henerey. — F.

Eevell

BooJee

Elisabeth Beuell.

301

33op antr ittantle* 1

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
Round 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 Com, by Robert Bikez,
a French minstrel of the twelfth or thirteenth century, and the
Fabliau du Mantel Mautaille, 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, 327, sq., 342, sq.) We are not to
suppose, however, that either of these pieces presents us with
the primitive form of this humorous invention. Robert 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-

1 This seems to have furnish'd the Lib. 4. Cant. 2. St. 25 seq. Lib. 5.
Hint of Llorimel's Girdle to Spencer. Cant. 5. — P.

302 BOY AND MANTLE.

quity, 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, South ey's ed. i. 297). In
the Roman cle 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 Coupe Enchantee. In
German, we have two versions of the same story, — one, an
episode in the Krone of Heinrich vom Turlein, thought to have
been borrowed from the Perceval of Chretien de Troyes, (Die
Sage vom Zauberbecher, in Wolf, Ueber die Lais, 378,) and
another, which we have not seen, in Brims, Beitr.age zur kriti-
schen Bearbeitung alter Handschrif 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. 1 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 Manteau mal 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 Mantel) is given in Haupt
and Hoffmann's A ltdeutsche Blatter, ii. 217, and the story is also
in Brims' Beitrage. Lastly, we find the legends of the horn and
the mantle united, as in the German ballad Die Ausgleichung,
(Des Knaben Wunderhom, 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

1 Child's Ballads, 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 ; l
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 Alasman and the King of the Genii, in the Arabian
Nights, the means of proof is a mirror, that reflects only the
imao-e 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 Palmerin 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 German ballad,
Die Krone der Kbnigin 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

1 So also in the well-told story of The chaplett wolle 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 alle thys lond ys none yt lyche ; ^nd by the garlond J>on may see,

For ytt wylk eLr be newe Fekyllr or fals yf f>at sche be,
(Wete >ou wele w/Uowtyn fable,) 0r ell y« ^ Bche be trewe

Alle the whyle thy wyfe ys stable 1. 0«J-bO.- t.

304 BOY AND MANTLE.

would hold him imprisoned forever ; the Cave in Amadls 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," (Numbers 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, probably had its origin in some of the early institu-
tions of Greece or Egypt. Hence the notion was adopted in the
Greek romances, the heroines of which were invariabty 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
Greek novels and the romances of chivalry." See Dunlop,
History of Fiction, London, 1814, i. 239, sq. ; Legrand, Fab-
liaux, 3d ed., i. 149, sq., 161 ; Schmidt, Jahrbacher der Litera-
tur, xxix. 121 ; Wolf, Ueber die Lais, 174-177 ; and, above all,
Geaesse's Sagenhreise des Mittelalters, 185, sq.

The 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 13$ the third day of May,

to Carleile did come
a kind curteous child
4 that cold much of wisdome.

BOY AND MANTLE.

305

a kirtle & a Mantle
this Child had vppon,

with brauches 1 and ringes,
full richelye hedone.

he had a sute of silke

about his middle drawne ;

w/thout he cold 2 of curtesye,
he thought itt much shame.

richly
dressed and
jewelled.

" god speed thee, 'King Arthur,

sitting att thy meate !
& the goodlye Queene Gueneuer!
16 I canott her fforgett.

He greets
Arthur

and
Guenevere,

" I tell you Lords in this hall,

I hett you all heate, 3
except you be the more surer
20 is you for to dread."

he plucked out of his potewer, 4

& longer wold not dwell,
he pulled forth a pretty mantle
24 betweene 2 nut-shells.

[page 285]

and pulls
out of his
bag

a mantle

" haue thou here King Arthure,

haue thou heere of mee ;
giue itt to thy comely cpieene
28 shapen as itt is alreadye ;

which he
tells Arthur

to give to
Guenevere.

" itt shall neuer become that wiffe
that hath once done amisse."

then euery Knight in the 'Kings court
began to care for his wiffe. 5

1 Brooches. — P. ? MS. branches. — F.

2 knew. — F.

3 heed, qu. — P. heede. — Eel. hete,
a promise. — F.

* See pag. 382, ver. 98 [poteuere in

Sir Degree.'] — P. poterver. — Ed. Tho
first syllable must be portc, carry. — F.

5 began to care for his. — P. ? care in
MS.— F

306

BOY AND MANTLE.

Guenevere
takes it.

It tears in
two,

and changes
colour.

Arthur
thinks she is
not true.

forth came dame Gueneuer ;

to the mantle shee her biled ' :
the Ladye shee was new fangle, 2
36 but yett shee was affrayd.

when shee 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. 3

one while was itt gaule, 4

another while was itt greene,
another while was itt wadded, —
44 ill itt did her beseeme, —

another while was it blacke

& bore the worst hue.
"by my troth," quoth JZmg Arthur,
48 " I thinke thou be not true."

Guenevere

rushes oil
blushing,

curses the
mantle-
maker

and the
child,

and says
she'd rather
be in a wood
than
shamed.

shee threw downe the mantle

that bright was of blee. 5
fast with a rudd 6 redd
52 to her chamber can shee flee ;

shee curst the weauer & the walker 7

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."

1 Query the le in the MS.— F. hied.
—Bel.

2 new fangle is fond of a new thing,
catching at novelties, ab. A.-S. fangan,
apprehendere, capere, corripere, hinc
fang, Gloss, ad G. D. — P.

3 i. e. divided. — P.

4 gule, qu. — P. red. — F.

5 colour, complexion, blcoh — idem,
Saxon. — P.

6 Complexion. — P.

7 Fuller, Jun. — P. A.-S. wealccre. — F.

BOY AND MANTLE.

307

Kay called forth his ladye,
& bade her come neere ;
saies, " madam, & thou be guilty e,
64 I pray thee hold thee there. 1 '

forth came his Ladye

shortlye & anon :
boldly e to the Mantle
68 then is shee gone.

Kay calls

fort:

wife.

marr

when she had tane the Mantle

& cast it her about,
then was shee bare
72 all aboue the Buttocckes. 1

but it

her buttocks

bare.

then euery Knight

that was in the Kings court
talked, laug'h'ed, k. showted,
76 full oft att that sport.

shee threw downe the mantle

that bright was of blee :
ffast with a red rudd
80 to her chamber can shee flee.

i red
face.

forth came an old Knight

pattering 2 ore a creede,
& he preferred to this litle boy
84 2< I 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.

1 Before all the rout. — Bel.

2 patter, obscuro murmure humilibus
que susurris hypocritarum instar, coram
populo preculas fundere — Junius. They

say in Shropshire to pat her, i.e. to make
a no:- when one rubs the feet

agamst the ground, & scratches. — P.

308

She takes it.

and has only
a tassel and
thread on
her.

BOY AND MANTLE.

When shee had tane the mantle

of cloth that was made,
shee had no more left on her

bnt a tassell & a threed.
then euery ~K.ni.glit in the "Kings conrt

bade " enill might shee speed."

[page 28C]

She rushes
off shamed.

shee threw downe the Mantle
96 that bright was of blee,
& fast with a redd rndd

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 dinne :

and win the
mantle.

" winne this mantle, Ladye,
104 & it shalbe thine

if thon nener did amisse
since thon 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.

when shee had tane the mantle
112 & cast itt her about,

vpp att her great toe

itt began to crinkle ' & crowt ;

shee said "bowe downe, Mantle,
116 & shame me not for nought ;

to crinkle, to go in & out, to run in —P. Grout, a variant of crowd, to draw

flexures; from krinekelen _Z?e^r. Johnson. close together.— F.

BOY AND MANTLE.

" once I did amisse,

I tell you certainlye,
wken I kist Craddockes moutk
120 Ynder a greene tree,

wken I kist Craddockes moutli

before lie marryed niee."

when skee had ker skreeuen, 1
124 & ker sines skee kad tolde,
tke mantle stoode about ker
rigkt as skee wold,

seemelye of coulour,
128 glittering like gold.

tken euery Kwight in Artkurs court
did ker bekold.

tken spake dame Grueneuer
132 to Artkur our King,

" ske katk tane yonder mantle,

not with wrigkt 2 but with, wronge !

" see you not yonder woman
136 that maketk ker selfe soe cleare 3 ?
I kaue seene tane out of ker bedd
of men fiueteeene,

" Preists, Clarkes, & wedded men
140 from ker by-deene !

yett skee taketk tke mantle
& maketk ker-selfe cleane ! "

tken spake tke litle boy
144 that kept tke mantle in kold ;
sayes "King ! Ckasten tky wiffe !
of ker words skee is to bold.

309

She confesses

that she
kissed ■
Craddock

before he
married her.

The mantle
unerinkles.

clothes her,

and glitters
like gold.

Guenevere

maligns

Craddock's

wife,

Bays she has

seen fifteen
men taken
out of her
bed.

The Boy-

tells Arthur
to restrain
his wife,

'i.e. confessed : shrive, fateri, confi-
teri. Hinc shrovetide. Jim. — P.

2 right.— P.
8 cleane. — P.

310

BOY AND MANTLE.

■who is a
whore,

and has

cuckolded

him.

" shee is a bitch & a witch,
14 8 & a whore bold !

King, in thine owne hall
thou art a Cuchold! "

The Boy sees
a boar ;

A litle boy 1 stoode
152 looking oner a dore ;

he was ware of a wyld bore 2
wold haue werryed a man.

runsout.cuta
ofE its head.

he pulld forth a wood kniffe ;
156 fast thither that 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 neuer a Cucholds [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.

~King Arthus & the Child
168 stood looking them vpon 3 :
all their k[n]iues edges
turned backe againe.

Craddock

cuts up the
head.

Craddoccke had a litle kniue
172 of Iron & of Steele ;

he birtled 4 the bores head

1 The little boy.— P.

2 And there as he was looking
He was ware of a wyld Bore.

Qu.-P.

3 upon them, Qu. — P.

4 birtled, or britled. — P. A.-S. bryt-
tian, to divide into fragments, distribute.
— F.

BOY AND MANTLE.

311

wonderous weele,
that euery Knight in the Kings court
176 had a morssell.

ISO

the litle boy had a home
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.

some shedd on their shoulder,
184 & some l on their knee ;

he that cold not hitt his mouth
put it in his eye ;

& he that was a Cuckold,
188 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!

1 sone in the MS.— F.

["" When as I doe reccord," printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs

O"?

j). 68-9, follows here in the MS.~]

312

lintt vo$t $c vttix 1

[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, alter 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
nisi bonum, has been the poetaster's motto ; or rather De Tudore
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

of the Roses . . „ T ,

within this fiamous Land,
the lines of all onr Noble men
4 did in great danger stand.

many 7 Kmnrs in bloodye ffeilde

kings were

left heirless, ff or Englands crowne did flight,

& yett their heyres were, all but twaine,
8 of liffe bereaued qnifce.

1 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.— P.

WHITE ROSE AND RED.

ther 30000 Englishmen
were in one battell slaine ;

yett all that 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 Sought against their King,
16 & none eche other knew.

att Lenght, by Heneryes Lawfull claime, 1

these wasting warres had end,
for Englands peace he did restore,
20 & did the same defend.

But Henry
VII.

ffor tyrant Richard named the 3 d .,

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,
■which Ioyed eche Englishman ;
& dayes of long desired peace
28 within this Land began.

and brought
peace

to the land.

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 wiffe, 2
36 that gallant yorkshire dame.

Henry

married

1 One stroke of the m is wanting in the MS. — F. 2 See Ladye Bessiyc in vol. iii. — F.
VOL. II. Y

314

WHITE HOSE AND RED.

York's
heiress ;

4 Edwarcles daughter, blest of god,
to scape king Edwards * spight,

was thus made Englands peereles Queene,
& Heneryes liartes delight.

this Henery, ffirst 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
Bed;

renowned yorke, the white rose gaue ;

brane Lancaster the redd ;
by wedlocke both inoyned were
48 to lye in one princely bed.

and they are
a badge in
the Royal
Arms.

May they
flourish
still !

these roses grew, & buded fayre,

& with soe good a grace,
that Kings' of Engl[a]nd in their armes 2
52 affords a worthy place.

& fflonrish may these roses still,
that all they woi-ld may tell !
the owners of these princely mowers
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 seene.

[page 280]

The King's
Guard wear

the Kings owne guard doe weare them now

vpon their backe & brest,
where loue & loyaltye remaines,
64 & euermore may rest.

1 That is, Richard's. — Adams.

2 The Red and White Roses never
were, strictly speaking, in the Royal

Arms, but were and are a badge borne
with them. — Gr. E. Adams, Bouge Dragon.

WHITE ROSE AND RED

315

the red rose on the backe is placed,

theron a crowne of gold ;
the wh[i]te rose on the brest as rich,

and castlye J to behold,

bedecket with siluer studdes,

& coates of scarlett & redd,
a blushing hew, which. Englands fame

this many yeeres hath spredd.

this Tudor & Planta<nnett

these honors ffirst devised
to welcome home a settled peace

by vs soe dearlye prized :

•which 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 giuffc aboue the rest,
w/w'ch brought him sonnes & daughters fairc

to make his Kingdome blest.

the royall blood, w7wch was att Ebbe,

soe encreased by this Queene,
that Englands heyre vnto this day

doth flourish ffresh & greene.

1 costlye. — F.
x2

the 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 RED.

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 fferdinando, ~King of Spayne,

his daughter Katherine gaue
ffor wiffe vnto this English Prince
104 a thing w7(ich god wold haue.

but died
young,
(April 1502,)

yett Arthur, in his loftye youth

& blooming time of age,
resigned vp his sweetest liffe
108 to deathes imperyall rage.

to England's
grief.

who dying thus, noe Isue left, —

the sweet of natures Ioy, —
did compasse England round with greeffe,
112 & Spaine with sadd annoye.

But Henry
VII. had
another boy,

Henry VIII.,

yett Henery, to increase his Ioy,

a Henery of his name,
in ffollowing time 8 Henery called, 1
116 a king of worthy flame ;

who

conquered
French
towns,

120

he Conquered Bullein with his sword,
& many townes of firance ;

his kinglye manhood & his fortitude
did Englands flame advance.

put down
Papistry,

then Popish Abbyes he supprest,

& Pappistrye put downe,
& bound their Land by Parlaiment
124 vnto his royall crowne.

1 The d is made over an I in the MS. — F.

WHITE EOSE AND RED.

317

128

he had 3 Children by 3 Queenes,
all Princes raigning here,

Edward, Marry, & Elizabeth,
A Queene beloued most deere.

and hail
three

children,
who all
reigned,

[page 290]

132

yett these 3 branches bare noe fruite ;

noe such blessing god did send ;
whei'by the King by Tudors name

in England here hath end.

but left no
issue.

Plantaginett hirst Tudor was

named Elizabeth ;
Ellizabeth Last Tudor was,
136 the greatest Queene on Earth.

The first and
last Tudors
were
Elizabeths.

This Tudor & Plantaginett,

by yeelding vnto death,
haue made steward now the greates[t] ~Kmg
140 that is now vpon the earth.

A Stewart
now reigns.

144

to speake of the 7 Henery I must,

whose grace gaue ffree consent
to haue his daughters marryed both

to kings of his descent.

Henry VII.

married his
eldest
daughter to

his Eldest daughter Margarett

was made great Scottlands Queene,
as wise, as ffaire, as vertuous,
148 as euer 1 was Ladye seene.

the King of
Scotland,

of this faire Queene our royall King

by Lineall course descended,
which weareth now the Imperyall crown e,
152 which, god now still defendeth.

and James
is her
descendant.

1 Only one stroke for the u in the MS. — F.

318

WHITE ROSE AND RED.

Henry's

second

daughter

first

married the

King of

France,

and then the
Duke of
Suffolk.

bis second daughter, Maiye called,

as Princelye by degree,
was by her ffather worthy thought
156 the Queene of ffrauce to bee ;

& after to the Duke of Suffollke

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

in childbed.

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 Ioyes,
172 againe proued bigg with, child ;

wheratt the Kmg reioced much,
& against that carefull hower
he lodged his deere & louelye Queene
176 in Londons stately Tower.

which Tower proued ffatall 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

188

thorfore the King was greeued sore,
& many monthes did mourne,

& wept & sighet, & said " like her
lie cold not ffind out one ;

Henry
mourned,

" nor none he wold in ffancy chuse

to make his wedded wiffe,
but a widdower he wold remaine
192 the remnant of his liffe."

and vowed

to remain a
widower.

his latter dayes he spent in peace

& quiettnesse of mind,
like Kmg & Queene as these 2 were,
196 the world can hardly e ffind !

Two like
these can
scarce be
found.

yett such a King as now wee haue,

& such a Queene wee had,
who hath heauenly powers from aboue,
200 & giusts ! as the 2 hadcl.

God saue our Prince, & 'King & Land,

& send them long to raigine !
in health, in welth, in quietnesse,
204 amongst vs to remaine ! ffins.

God bless
our King
and land !

1 ? ghosts, spirits ; or miswritten for giufts. — F.

320

The Folio version of this song is here printed in its integrity for
the first time ; for in the copy given in the Reliquee, " 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

1 This Song is in Eamsay's Tea-table This seems to have been strip'd of its

Miscellany, p. 105, [1753]. The printed Scottisms by some English hand: which

copy is much better 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 Iago 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 Eevolution 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 — Br\<raav Tpdirs^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

[page 291]

it freezes lHIS winters weather itt waxeth cold,

hard,

& ffrost itt ffreeseth on enery hill,
& Boreas blowes his blasts soe bold

and the

cattle are 4 that all our cattell are like to spill.

likely to die.

Bell ' my wiffe, shee 2 loues noe strife,

My wife J ' '

Bel1 sa y s she sayd vnto my quietly e, 3

" Get up and J J V J ■>

save the < r i se V p & saue Cow crumbockes liffe !

cow s life. ± 7

cioakon 1 !"° ld 8 man ! P ut tlune old cloake about thee ! '

" steady, 4 " Bell my wiffe ! why dost thou fflyte 5 ?

wife. My t i

cloak's very thou kens my cloake is verry thin ;

Then [Bell]. — P. seems necessary to support the dialogue.

2 who. — P. p.

3 to me right hastily.— P. s A _.g_ ^a«, to strive, quarrel.— F.

4 This stanza not in print :— and yet

BELL MY WIFFE.

323

itt is soe sore ouer worne,
12 a cricke l theron cannott runn :

He goe ffind the court within,
He noe longer lend nor borrow ;

He goe ffind tho court 2 within,
16 for Tie haue a new cloake about me.'

I shall get a
new one."

" Cow Crumbocke is a very good cowe,

shee has alwayes beene good to the pale,
shee has helpt vs to butter & cheese, I trow,
20 & other things shee will not fayle ;

for I wold be loth to see her pine ;

therfore, good husband, ffollow my councell now,
forsake the court & follow the ploughe ;
24 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,
28 I have had itt this 44 yeere ;

sometime itt was of the cloth in graine, 4

itt is now but a sigh 5 clout, as you may see ;
It will neither hold out winde nor raine ;
32 & He haue a new kloake 6 about mee."

"I've had my
cloak forty-
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,

1 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:

f enne com Couetyse . . .
In A toren Tabert of twelue Wynter Age.
But 3if a lous coube lepe, I con hit not
I-leue

Heo scholde wandre on bat walk, hit
was so bred-bare. — F.

2 Only half the u in the MS.— F.

3 This Stanza is very different from
that in print. — P.

4 Fr. Cramoisi : m. crimson colour.
Sot en cramoisi. An Asse in graine.
Cotgrave. — F.

5 ? sorry, miserable. — F.

6 ? a c made over the first k in the
MS.— F.

324

BELL MY WIFFE.

and brought
ten children
up.

Don't be
proud ; put
your old
cloak on."

" Old times
are old ; all
people dress
tine now,

and I'll have
a new cloak
too."

" 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 niisken ?
40 man ! take thine old cloake about thee ! "

" O Bell my wiffe ! why doest thou flyte ?

now is nowe, & then was then ;
seeke all the world now throughout,
44 thou kens not Clownes from gentlemen ;

they are cladd in blacke, greene, yellow, & blew, 1

soe ffarr aboue their owne degree ;
once in my liffe lie take a vew, 2
48 ffor He haue a new cloake about mee."

" King Harry was a verry good K[mg ;]

I trow his hose cost but a Crowne ;
he thought them 12* ouer to deere,
52 therfore he called the taylor Clowne.

he was King & wore the Crowne,

& thouse but of a low degree ;
itts pride that putts this cumtrye downe ;
56 man ! put thye old Cloake about thee !

3 " Bell my wiffe ! why dost thou fflyte ?

now is now, & then was then ;
wee will Hue now obedyent Hffe,
60 thou the woman, & I the man.

itts not ffor a man with a woman to threape 4

vnlesse he ffirst giue ouer the play ;
wee will liue noue 5 as wee began,
64 and Be haue mine old Cloake abaut me."

ffins.

1 Some letter marked out following the
b in the MS.— F.

2 ? MS. tew, a rope (or line) : Nares.
I'll give myself some rope, license. — F.

3 Different from the print : as indeed

is almost every Line of the whole. — P.

1 A.-S. \>rtapian, to threap, reprove,
afflict. Bosworth. — F.

5 ? MS. ' none ' for 'on'.— F. Better
' now' ; compare 1. 58, 59. — H.

325

i lute fcolKre : £ loue :

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 ostentandl artem.

W ITH my hart my lone was nesled '

into the sonne of happynesse ; 2
ffrom my lone my liffe "was rested 3

into a world of heaninesse ;
lett my lone my liffe remaine, 4
since I lone not where I wold. 5

[page 292]

I was happy
with my
love, and
then was
torn from
her.

Darksome distance doth devyde vs,
ffarr ffrom thee I mnst remaine ;

dismall planetts still doth 6 guide vs,
ffearing wee shold meete againe ;

but ffroward ffortune once remoned, 7

then will I hue where I wold. 8

We are apart
now,

but Fortune
may change,
and join us.

Iff I send them, doe not suspect mee ;

but if I come, then am I seene ;
let thy wisdome 9 soe direct mee

that I may blind Argus eyen !
for my true hart shall nener remou[e,]
tho I hue not where I loue.

Do not
suspect me,

though I am
away from
you.

1 Read nested, to rhyme with rested.
-Skeat.

-' In a summe of happinesse. — P.
3 wrested. — F.
1 let me soon from life remove. — P.

5 Since I live not where I love. — P.
Since I live not where I would
faine. — H.
c clo. — P. 7 remove. — P.

8 love. — P. 9 MS. wisdone. — F.

326

I LIUE WHERE I LOUE.

What grief
have I
suffered !

Sweete ! what greeffe haue I sustained
20 in the accomplishing my desires ! l

my affections are not ffained,
tho my wish be nere the nere. 2

if wishes wold snbstantiall prone,
24 then wold I Hue where I loue.

With
bleeding
heart, I pray

to be with
thee again.

True conceit be still my feeding,
& the flood being soe 3 conceipted,

whilest my hart for thee lyes bleeding,
sunne & heauens to be intreated ;

perhaps my orisons then may moue,

that I may Hue where I loue.

When
heaven
grants this,

we'll smile
at past
troubles.

Loue & ffaction still agreeing,
32 by the consent of heauens electyon,

where wee both may haue our being,
vnderneath the heauens protectyon,

& smiling att our sorrowes past,
36 wee shall enioye 4 our wishe att Last.

ffins.

1 To accomplish my desire. — P.

2 nigher. — P.

3 After this is written contented, with

the tente only marked out, then follows
ceipted. — F.

4 may enjoy. — P.

327

Ummjje : 8n&rcto : *

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.

1 Shewing his disloyalty to an Earl's daughter. This Song in some Places is
imperfect. — P.

328

YODNGE ANDREW.

I dreamt of

young

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.

AS : I was cast in my ffirst sleepc,

a dreadffull draught * in my mind I drew ;

ffor I was dreamed of one 2 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,

& our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete."

then he tooke her in his armes 2,

& k[i]ssed her both cheeke & chin ;
& 2 s ? or B s . e he pleased this may 3

before they tow did part in twinn ;

saies, " now, good Sir, you haue had jour will,

you can demand no more of mee ;
Good Sir, Remember what you said before, 4

& goe to the church & marry mee."

" ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold ;

[Till I am got to my own country 5 ]
goe home & fett 6 thy fathers redd gold,

& He goe to the church & marry thee."

She gets her

father's 500/.
and jewels,

and takes
them to
young
Andrew.

this Ladye is gone to her ffathers hall,

& well she knew where his red gold Lay,
7 and counted fforth 5 hundred pound
24 besides all other Iuells & 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 8 hill soe hye ;

1 sketch, picture. — F.

2 a.— P.

3 maid. — P.

4 you swore. — P.

5 Percy's line. — F.

6 fet. Vid. fol. 514. Note.-

7 she.— P.

8 a.— P.

YOUNGE ANDREW.

321)

shec had vpon ' a gowne of blacke vcluett ; —
a pittyffu]l sight after yee shall see ; —

"put of thy clothes, bonny wenche," he sayes,
" for noe ffoote farther thoust gang with mee."

Ho makes
her take off

but then shee put of her gowne of veluett 2

3 with many a salt teare from her eye,
And in a kirtle of fnne 4 treaden silke [page 293]

36 shee stood beffore young Andrews eye.

sais, " o put off 5 thy kirtle of silke ;

ffor some & all shall goe with mee :
& to my owne Lady I must itt beare,
40 who 6 I must needs loue better then thee."

then shee put of her kirtle of silke

with 7 many a salt teare still ffrom her eye ;
in a peticoate of Scarlett redd
44 shee stood before young Andrewes eye.

saics, " o put of 5 thy peticoate ;

for some & all of itt shall goe with mee ;
& to my owne Lady I will itt beare,
48 w7»'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.

saies, " o put of 5 thy smocke of silke ;

for some & all shall goe with mee ;
vnto my owne Ladye I will it beare,
56 that dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye."

her velvet
gowu,

her silken

kirtle,

her scarlet

petticoat,

her white
silk smock

' vp brackotted for omission by P.

2 velvet gown. — P.

3 while many . . . ran. — P.

4 a fine kirtle. — P. ? breadon,

braided. — F.

5 Put off, put off.— P.

6 whom. — P.

7 while .... ran froni.-

-P.

VOL. II.

330

YOUNGE ANDREW.

(though she
prays to keep
it),

sayes, 1 " o remember, young Andrew !

once of a woman you were borne ;
& ffor that birth that Marye bore,

I pray you let my smocke be vpon ! "

and her head

dross.

Then he asks
her whether

she'll die on
his sword or
go naked
home.

She chooses

walking
naked home,

but warns
young

Andrew that
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 birtb that Mary bore,
64 thy smocke shall not be left here vpon."

but then shee put of her head geere ffine ;

shee hadd billaments 2 worth a 100" ;
the hayre that was vpon this bony wench head, 3
68 couered her bodye downe to the ground.

then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,

& held itt there in his owne right hand ; 4
saies, "whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords
point, Ladye,
72 or thow wilt 5 goe naked home againe ? "

" my liffe is sweet, then Sc'r," said shee,

" therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine ;
before I wold dye on jour 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 jour body take,
80 your sure to mower a gallow tree ;

" & I haue 7 brethren," shee sayes, 6

" & they are all hardy men & bold ;
giff euer the doe jour body take,
84 you must neuer gang quicke ouer the mold."

1 she sayes. — P.

2 habillinients, dress, cloaths. — P.

3 but . . . upon her head. — P.

4 And there he held it forth amaine.
—P. 5 wilt thou.— P.

6 And seven brethren I have she says.
—P.

YOUNGE ANDREW.

331

" if your ffatlier be a right good Erie
as any remaines in his owne countrye,

tush ! he shall neuer my body take,
He gang soe ffast ouer l the sea !

Young

Andrew says
he'll

sail from her
father,

" if you haue 7 brethren," he sayes,

" if they be neuer soe hardy or bold \
tush ! they shall neuer my body take ;
92 lie gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold ! "

and take
refuge in
Scotland
from her
brothers.

Now this Ladye is gone to her fathers hall

when euery body their rest did take ;
but the Erie w7*ich was her ffather [dear] 2
96 lay waken for his deere daughters sake.

The lady
goes home,

" but who is that,'''' her ffather can say, 3

" that soe priuilye knowes that pinn 4 ? "
" its Hellen, jouy owne deere daughter, ffather 5 !
loo I pray you rise and lett me in."

her father
hears her,

6 "noe, by my hood 7 ! " qwoth her ffather then,
" my [house] thoust 8 neuer come within,
without I had my red gold againe."

but won't let
her in till
she brings
back his
gold.

104 " nay, jour gold is gone, ffather ! " said shee. 9 she says it's

" then naked thou came into this world,
and naked thou shalt returne againe."

"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]

1 hence o're. — P.
- dear.— P.
* to say. — P.

4 pinn. Compare vol. i. p. 249, 1. 38,
' lie thirled vpon a pinn.' — P.

5 here. — P.

6 no, no, I will not rise. — P.

7 Kood.— P.

8 my House thou. — P.

9 pardon, pardon me, she says,
For all your red gold it is taen. — P.

z 2

332

YOUNGE ANDREW.

Her heart
bursts, and
she falls
dead.

shee stood soe long quacking on the ground
112 till 2 her hart itt burst 2 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.

116

ithe morning when her ffather gott 3 vpp,
a pittyffull sight there he might see 4 ;

hisowne deere daughter was dead 5 without Clothes!
they teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye ;

He curses
his love of
gold,

sais, " fye of gold, and ffye of ffee ! 7
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 8 this time he neere dought 9 good day,
but as 10 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 Andrew, 11
ffor ffalse he was to this bonny Ladye ;
128 more pitty that itt had l2 not beene true.

ho hadn't
gone half a
mile into
Wales

he was not gone a mile into the wild forrest, 13

or halfe a mile into the hart of wales,
but there they cought him by such a braue wyle
132 that hee must come to tell noe more tales.

1 until.

2 truly

-P.
-P.

rose. — P.

4 might he see.-

-P.

there lay dead. — P.

6 any follows in the MS., and is
crossed out. — F.

7 fye fye now on my gold

O fye on gold & fye on fee. — P.

8 Thus having lost his daughter fair,
He after &c— P.

9 dought — A.-S. dugan, valere, hinc
dohtiff Sax. i. e. doughty, fortis, strenus,
Gloss, ad G. Doug' —P.

10 [insert] the.— P.

11 And once more tell of young An-
drew. — P.

12 he had.— P.

13 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 perjured knight
did slay. — P.
And tow'rd the woods had gang'd
away. — P.

YOUNGE ANDREW.

666

ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,
& sliee 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], 1
& fire betweene them 2 glashet out ;
the raught eche other such a great rappe,

tliah there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott. killed him,

140 but 2 now young Andrew he is dead ;

but he was neuer buryed vnder mold ;
for ther as the wolfe devoured him,
there 3 lyes all this great erles gold.

ffins.

and eat him
up.

1 Percy has added there, and marked
the line as part of the verse above. — F.

2 And.— P.

3 And there &c— P.

Percy has marked in red ink brackets,
for omission, the following words or parts
of them :

as, 1. 142.

n, of 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.

vp of 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 the 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 ajiffff or a tale 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,

We'll hear jonv 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
vulgar 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

1 Pepys, iv. 42. A Poetical Dialogue between a Soldier & his Mistress, not un-
like the Nut-brown Maid. — P.

A JIGGE.

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 Nut-Brown Maid lingers around
this Jig.

Other handlers of the old ballad turned it to a religious sense.
See the New Notbrowne Mayd upon the Passion of Christ in
Mr. Hazlitt's Early Popular Poetry of England.

" MaRGRETT, ray sweetest margett ! I must goe !

most dere to mee that neuer l may be soe ;

as ffortune willes, I cannott itt deny."

"then know thy loue, thy Margarett, shee must dye."

" Not ffor the gold that euer Crcessus liadd,
wold I once 2 see thy sweetest lookes soe fade ;
nor 3 ffor all that my eyes did euer 4 see,
wold I once part thy sweetest loue from mee ;

" The King comands, & I must to the warres."
"thers 5 others more enow to end those cares."
" but I am one appointed ffor to goe,
& I dare not ffor my liffe once say noe,"

" O marry mee, & you may stay att home !
ffull 30 weekes you know that I am gone. 6 "
" theres time enough ; another ffather take ;
1G 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."
20 " itt is to ffar ffor Pegg to goe wi'th 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 I "

Get another
father for
your child.

"No, I love
you

and will go
with you.

1 i.e. never hereafter. — H.

2 There is a mark like an i undotted
before the o. — F.

3 nor yet. — P.

1 Only half the u or e in the MS.— F.
5 There's.— P.
i.e. with Child.— P.

336

A JIGGE.

I'll carry
your sword,

" I will goe with, thee, my loue, both 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 thats 2 armed men ? "

clean your
horse,

"He beare thy Lance, & grinde thy stirropp too,
He rub thy horsse, & more then that lie doo."
" but Margretts ffingars, they be all to nine
28 to stand & waite when shee shall see mee dine,"

wait on you, " He see you dine, & wayte still att yo?(r backe,

lie giue you wine or any thing you Lacke."
" but youle repine when you shall see mee haue
32 a dainty wench that is both nine & braue."

love your
wench,

" He love thy wench, my sweetest loue, I vow, [page 29. r .j
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 jour 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 will 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
you 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 3 my loue ! I loue my Margarett well,
48 & heere I wow 4 With Margarett still to dwell ! "

1 along the way. — P.

2 all.— P.

3 Ah! stay.— P.

4 vow. P.

A JIGGE. 337

" Giue me thy hand ! thy Margarett Hues againe ! "
" heeres * my hand ! He neuer breed
I kisse my loue in token that is soe ;

" heeres * my hand ! lie neuer breed thee paine ! an ? never

J r pain you.

"We'll be

ffins.

52 wee will be wedd : come, Margarett, let vs goe."

1 here is. — P.

338

Cglamore : l

|In Six Parts.— P.]

Tms 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 : e 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
treachery of the sovereign, the prowess of the knight, the indis-
cretions and misfortunes of the lady, and the happy conclusions

1 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 Lead'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 avayvcofjicns. 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 Greek 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 fright-fulnesses. 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 L]

[How Eglamore lovod Christabell, and undertook throe Deeds of Arms to win her.]

1
1ESUS : christ, heanen king!
grant vs all his cleere blessinge,
& builde vs [in] l his bower 2 !
4 & giue them [ioye] 3 that will heare
of Elders that before vs were,

that liued in great honor. 4
I will tell yon of a Knight
8 that was both 5 hardye & wight,
& stiife in enerye stower;
& wher any deeds of armes were,
hee wan the prize with sheeld & speare,
) 2 & ener he was the mower.

Christ, bless
us,

and give
joy to those
that love old
heroes I

I'll tell you
of a hardy
knight

who always
won the
prize.

In Artoys the ~Knight was borne,
& his ffather him beforne ;
listen ; I will yon say. 6
1G Sir Prinsamoure the Erie hight ;

& Eglamore the hight [the] Knight 7

that curteons was alway ;
& he was for a man 8 verament,
20 w/th the Erie was he bent, 9
to none he wold say nay. 10

He was born
in Artoys,

his name
was
Eglamore ;

he was a
man,
and never
refused a
fight.

1 in. — T. in. — P. builde, shelter, as
in vol. i. p. 27, 1. 11.— F.

2 boure. — P.

3 yoye— T. joye.— P.

4 honoure. — P.

5 bolde.— P. hardy.— T.

8 Percy marks to come after this :

For that he was a man full bolde
With the Erie was he holde
In housholde nyght & day.

The Thornton MS. has:

To dedes of armes he ys wente,
Wyth the Erie of Artas he ys lente,
He faylyth hym not nyght nor daye.

7 Sir Eglam re than hyght the knyglit.
— P. Syr Egyllamowre men calle tLo
knyjt.— T.

8 And for he was a man. — P.

9 lente.— P. he ys lente.— T.

10 To no man he wolde. — P. T. has :

Whylle the erlo had him in holde,
Of dedes of armes he was bolde,
For no man soydc ho nay. — F.

542

EGLAMORE.

The Earl of
Artoys
has a lovely
daughter,

Christabell,

Eglamore
loves her,

the Erie had noe Child but one,
a maiden as white as whalles bone, 1
24 that his right heyre shold bee ;
Christabell was the Ladyes name ;
a ffairer maid then shee was ane
was none 2 in christentye.
28 Christabell soe well her bore ;
the Erie loued nothing more

then his daughter ffree ;
soe did that gentle knight
22 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.
36 listen a while & dwell :

Lords came ffrom many a Land
her to haue, I vnderstand,
with fforce ffold 3 and Sell.
40 Sir Prinsamoure then did crye
strong lusting & turnamentrye 4

for the loue of Christabell.
what man that did her craue,
44 such stroakes Eglamore him gaue,
that downe right he ffell.

He opens his
heart to his
chamber-
lain,

to his chamberlaine 5 then gan he saw, 6
" ffrom thee I cann hyde nought away,"
48 (where they did together rest 7 ;)

" ffaire ffrand, nought to laine,
my councell thou wold not saine ;
On thee is all my trust."

1 ivory. — F. as faire. — T.

2 not. — P. Ther was none soche.-

3 ferse folke.— T.

4 Syr Egyllamowre he dud to crye
Of dedes of armys utterly. — T.

[page 290]
-T.

5 squyer, (with a 7 tered lines).-
See squier, st. 9. 1. Ill below. — F.

6 say. — P.

7 rest. — P. Rett altered into rest in
the MS.— F.

EGLAMORE.

343

"Master," hee said, "per ma fay,
what-soeuer you to me say,

I shall itt neuer out cast."
" the Erles daughter, soe god me saue,
the loue of her but that I haue,

my liffe itt may not Last."

and Bays he
shall die
unless he
can win
ChristabelTs
love.

" Master" said the young man ffree,
" you haue told me jour priuitye ;
60 I will giue you answere
to this tale : I vnderstand
you are a knight of litle Land,
& much wold haue more ;
64 If I shold to that Ladye goe
& show joiiT hart & loue,

shee lightlye wold let me fare ;
the man that heweth ouer hye,
08 some chipp ffalleth on his eye ;
thus doth it euer fare.

The cham-
berlain

answers

that

Eglamore is
too poor,

the lady
■wouldn't
listen to
him ;

those

hewing too
high get
chips in
their eye.

" remember Master, of one thing, 1
that shee wold haue both Erie & l£.mg,

& many a bold Barron alsoe ;
the Ladye will haue none of those,
but in her maidenhead hold ; 2
ffor wist her ffather, by heauen Kmg,
that you were sett on such a thinge,

right deere itt shold be bought,
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.

1 Syr, than unbe-thanke on thys
thyng.-T.

2 3yt wylle scho not have of thoo,
But in godenqa hur holdyth so,

Tho which y tro-we ys for thy lore
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.

the knight answerd ffull mild :
" euer since I was a Child
thou hast beene loued of l rn.ee.
84 in any iusting or any stower,
saw you me haue any dishonor

in battell where I haue bee ? "
" Nay, ~M.aster, att all rights
98 you are one of the best knights
in all Christentye ;
in deeds of armes, by god aliue,
thy body is worth other 5."
9-2 " gramercy, Sir," sayd hee :

Eglamore
goes to his
room,

and prays
God

to give him
Christabcll
as his wife.

Eglamore sighed, & said noe more,
but to his Chamber gan hee ffare,
that richelye was wrought.
96 to god his hands he held vp soone,
" hord ! " he said, " grant me a boone

as thou on roode me bought !
the Erles daughter, ffaire & ffree,
loo that shee may my wiffe bee,

ffor shee is most in my thought ;
that I may wed her to my wiffe,
& in Ioy to lead our liffe ; 2
104 from care then were I brought."

Next day he

doesn't go
to dine in
Hall.

Christabell
asks where
lie is.

108

on the morrow that maiden small
eate with 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 Sir Eglamore my Knight?

1 lente wyth.— T.

and sethen reches in my life. — T.

EGLAMOKE.

345

his squier answerd wtth heauye cheere,
112 "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
116 he liueth not to night."

"He is
nearly dead,
and prays to
see you."

the Erie vnto his daughter spake,
" damsell," he said, " for god sake
listen vnto niee !
120 after me, doe as I thee hend ; l
to his chamber see thou wend,

ffor hee was curteous & ffree ;
ffull truly e w/tk his intent,
124 wt'th lusting & in Turnament,
he said vs neuer nay ;
if any deeds of armes were,
he wan the prize with turnay 2 cleere
128 our worshippe for euer and aye."

[page 297]

The Earl

charges

Christabell

to go and see
Eglamore,

who never
refused a
tourney,

and always
won the
prize.

then after meate that Ladye gent
did affter her fathers comandement, 3
shee busked her to wend.
132 forth shee went wt'thouten more,
for nothing wold shee spare,

but went there as hee Lay. 4
" Master," said the squier, " be of good cheere,
136 heere cometh the Erles daughter deere,
some words to you to say."

After Hall,

Christabell

goes to
Eglamore,

1 After mete do ye as hynde. — T. See
'After meate,' st. 11, 1. 129. But 'after
me ' may mean, by my direction, see 1.
130, though I do not know hend in the
sense of tell, bid. — F.

2 jurney. — T.

3 Only half the first n in the MS.— F.

1 T. puts in three lines in which Chris-
tabell asks the squire how Eglamore is.
— F.

VOL. II.

A A

346

EGLAMORE.

.ami asks
how he is.

" Dying for
love of you."

" I'm very
sorry to
grieve you.'

" Then be
rny wife."

& then said that Ladye bright,
" how fareth Sir Eglamore ray Knight,
140 that is a man right ffaire ? "

" forsoothe, Ladye, as yon may see,
•with, woe I am bonnd for the lone of yee,
in longing & in care."
144 " Sir," shee said, "by gods pittye,
if yon be agrreened ' ffor mee,

itt wold greene me full sore !"
" damsell, if I might turne to liffe,
148 I wold haue you to my wiffe,
if itt yowr 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 Knight and ffree,
152 & come of gentle blood ;

a manfull man you are in ffeild
to win the gree with speare & sheeld
nobly by the roode ;
156 Sir, att my ffather read you witt, 2
& 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 will it shalbe good."

Eglamore ia
in bliss,

164

the 'Knight desired noe other 3 blisse
when he had gotten his grantesse, 4

but made royall 5 cheere ;
he comanded a Sqiuer to goe

1 The rr is much like u in the MS.— F.

2 T. makes the lady take the 'Ask
Papa ' on herself, and when they are
agreed, she'll not fail Eglamore. — F.

3 kepte no more. — T;

4 geton graunt of thys. — T.

5 hur fulle gode. — T.

EGLAMOKE.

347

to ffeitch gold, a 100 l or towe,
& giue the 2 Maidens cleere.
168 So* Eglamore said, "soe haue I blisse !
to jour marriage I giue you this,

Sbr yee neuer come heere yore."
the Lady then thanked & kissed the 'Knujht ;
172 shee tooke her leaue anon-right,

" farwell, my true sonne deere." 3

ani^gives
Christabcll's
maidens
100A

Christabell
kisses him.

15
then homeward shee tooke the way. 4
" welcome ! " sayd the Erie, " in ffay,
176 tell mee how haue yee doone.

say, my daughter as white as any flower,
how ffareth 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
with, hounds & hawkes right."

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." 5
on the morrow, when itt was day,
So 1 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

1 and take an hundurd pownd. — T. * Crystyabelle hath takyn hur way.

2 hur.— T. — T.

3 Andseyde ' Farewclle my fere.' — T. 5 For comforte of that knyght. — T.

A A 2

348

EGLAMORE.

and are

pleasant

together.

196

to see some ffaire might.
all they day they made good cheere :
a wrath began, as you may heare,

long ere itt was night. 1

But coming

home,

Eglainore

asks if the
Earl will
hear Mm.

" Certainly,

I like to
hear you :

you're the
best knight
in the land."

" When will
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 2 heare ? "
" all ready, Eglamore ; in ffay,
whatsoeuer you to me say,
to me itt is ffull deere ;
204 ffor why, the doughtyest art thou
that dwelleth in this Land now,

for to beare sheeld & speare. 3 "
" 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, it 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 wrthouten nay."
216 the Erie said, " by gods paine,

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.

1 long ere night it were.-

2 ye me. — T.

3 Awnturs ferre or nere. — T.

EGLAHOKE.

349

Sir Eglamore [sware x ], "soe mote I thee,
att my iourney 2 ffaine wold I be ! "
224 right soone he made him yare.
the Erie said, " here by west
dwelleth a Gyant in a fforrcst, —
ffowler neuer saw I ere ; —
228 therm be trees ffaire & 3 long,
3 harts 4 run them 5 amono-e,

the fairest that on ffoot gone.
S/r, 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
giant's
forest,
and fetch
him one of
three harts
running
about there.

20
6 " 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 Sir Marroccke."
240 the ~K.night thought on Christabell ;
he swore by him that harrowed hell,

him wold he neuer fforsake.
" Sir, 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,
Sir Eglamore tooke the way

The knyght sweryd. — T.
The o looks like a in the MS.— F.
Cypur trees there growe owto. — T.
The h is like an I in the MS.— F.
Grete hertys there walke. — T.
T. lias for this stanza :

Bo Jhesu swere the knyght than,
" Yf he he ony Crystyn-man,

Y schalle hym nevyr forsake.
Holde well my lady and my londe."
•• jys," seyde the erle, "here myn honde !"

Ilys trowthe 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 to that Ladye soe ffree :

" damsell," hee said to her anon,
" ffor yowr Loue I haue vndertane
deeds of Amies three."
252 " good Sir," shee said, " be merry & glad ; x
ffor a worsse Iourney you neuer had

in noe christyan countrye.
if god grant ffrom his grace
256 that wee 2 may ffrom that Iourney apace,
god grant it may be soe 3 !

She gives
him a grey-
hound

that'll pull
down any
stag,

and a sword

that'll cut
any helm in
two.

22
" Sir, 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 4 ran
that might scape him ffroe :
264 alsoe a sword I giue thee,
that was ffound in the sea 5 ;
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.

Eglamore
bids Christa-
bell good-
bye,

[Part II. 6 ]

[How Eglamore kills the giant Marrocke and a big Boar.]

Eglamore kissed that Lady gent ;
he tooke his leaue, & fforth hee went.

1 T. has for the next five lines :
For an hardere fytt never ye had,

Be God, in no cuntre !
Or that yurney be over passyd,
For my love ye schalle sey fulle ofte
alias !

And so schalle y for thee.

2 ye.— P.

3 so bee. — P.

4 beste that on fote— T.

5 Seynt Poule fonde hyt in the Grekcs
see.— T.

a Part I. would end better with stanza
28, 1. 341, where the Thornton version
ends its "furste fytt."— F.

EGLAMORE.

351

272

2-*

276

Parte

280

his way now hath hee tane ;

"The bye streetes held he west
till he came to the fforrest ;

ffarrer saw he neuer none,
With trees of Cypresse lying out.
J the wood was walled round abowt
w<"th strong walles of stone ;
fforthe he rade, as I vnderstand,
till he came to a gate that he ffand,
& therin is he gone.

[page 299] rides to tn(J
forest.

enters it by
a gate,

24
his home he blew in that tyde ;
harts start' vpp on euery side,
284 & a noble deere l fFull prest ;

the hounds att the deere gan bay.
with that heard the Gyant where he lay;
itt lett him of his rest ;
288 " methinketh, by hounds that I heare,
that there is one hunting 2 my deare ;

it were better that he cease 3 !
by him that wore the crowne of thorne,
292 in a worse time he neuer blew a borne,
ne dearer bought a messe 4 ! "

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.

1 Twety does not use the word deer in
speaking "of the Hert. Now wyl we
speke of the hert ; and speke we of his
degres : that is to say, the fyrst yere he
is a calfe, the secunde yere a broket,
the iij. yeare a spayer, the iiij. yere a
stagg, the v. yere a greet stagg, the yj.
yeare a hert at the fyrst hed ; but that ne
fallith not in jugement of huntersse, for

the grot dyversyte that is fownde of hem,
for alleway we calle of the fyrst hed
tyl that he be of x. of the lasse. Beliq.
Antiq. i. 151.— F.

- Yondur is a thefe to stele. — T.

3 He were welle bettur to be at the
see.— T.

4 Neythur hys bowe bcnde 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 l he blew ffull shrill ;
300 & when he came where the gyant was,
" good Sir," he sayd, " lett me passe,

if that itt be jour will."
" nay, traitor ! thou art tane !
304 my principall 2 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 3 ,
a great clubb vp hee takes,
308 that villanous was and great 4 ;
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, 5
& made him bhnd that tyde.

but he
fights on for
two days and
more ;

then

Eglamore
kills him,

how-be-itt he lost his sight,
he ffought with Sir Eglamore that 'Knight
320 2 dayes & some deale more ;
till the 3^ 6 day att prime
Sir Eglamore waited his time,
& to the hart him bare.

1 And whan the hert is take, ye shal
bloweiiij. motys . . . and the hed shal lie
brout hom to the lord, and the skyn
. . . Than blow at the dore of halle
the pryse. . . . And whan the buk is
i-take, ye shal blowe pryse, 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.

2 chefe.— T.

3 to the kny3t ys gon. — T.

4 mekylle and fulle unweelde. — T.

5 And to the geant he gafe a sowe.
— T. Sough, a stroke or blow. Jamie-
son. — F.

6 Tylle on the todur.— T.

EGLAMORE.

353

324 through gods might, & his kniffe,
there the Gyant lost his liffe ;

ffast he began to rore.
ffor certaine sooth, as I you say,
328 when he was meaten 1 there he Lay
he was 15 ffoote 2 & more.

and he
roars.

He measures
fifteen feet.

28 3
through the might of god, & his kniffe,
thus hath the Gyant Lost his liffe ;
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 4 ! "

Eglamore
takes the
giant's head

to the Earl
of Artoys,
and says he
has been to
the giant.

the Erie said, " sith itt is done,
Another Iourney there shall come soone, — [page300]
344 buske thee & make thee yare, —
to Sattin, that 5 countrye,
ffor therin may noe man bee
for doubt 6 of a bore ;
348 his tuskes are a yard 7 long ;

what mesh that they doe come among,
itt couereth 8 neuer more ;

The Earl
sets him his
second deed
of arms :

to go to
Sattin

and kill a
big boar
there,

1 meted, measured. — F.

2 xl. fote.— T.

3 Mr. Halliwell makes two stanzas of
28, the rhyme-lines varying. — F.

4 For there, 1. 339, compare 1. 233.
T. adds (in italics) :

Make we rnery, so have we blys,
Thys ys the furste fytt of thy s

That we have undertone. — F.
In Sydon, in that ryche. — T.
fear. — F. drede. — T.
fote. — T. 8 recovers. — F.

354

EGLAMORE.

which kills
everything
it gets hold
of.

both man & beast itt slayeth,
352 all that euer hee ouer-taketh,
& giueth tbem wounds sore.

Eglamore
starts again,
journeys

fourteen
days over
land and sea,

and then
comes on
traces of
the boar,

dead men all
about.

356

360

364

Sir Eglamore wold not gaine-say,
he tooke his leaue & went his way,

to his Iourney went hee.
towards Sattin, I vnderstand,
a ffortnight he went on Land,

& alsoe soe long on sea.
itt ffell againe in the exxen tyde,
in the fforrest he did ryde

wheras the bore shold bee ;
& tydings of the bore soone hee Sound ;
by him men Lay dead on many a Land, 1

that pittye itt was to see.

Next
morning

he hears the
boar's cry,

and sees it
come from
the sea.

Sir Eglamore that Knight awoke, 2
& priuilye lay vnder an oke ;
368 till morrow the sun shone bright,
in the fforrest ffast did hee lye ;
of the bore he hard a crye, 3
& neerer he gan gone right.
372 ffaire helmes he ffound in fere

that men of armes had lefffc there,

that the bore had slaine.
Eglamore to the cliffe went hee,
376 he saw the bore come from the sea,
his morne draught 4 had he tane.

1 The Lawnd in woodes. Saltus Syr Egyllamowre restyd hym undur an
nemorum. Baret. Saltus, woodland oke;

Pa 2 t ™ e, ~,- F " Tylle ° n the morowe tfl at ho can wake.

Ine last words of these lines are 3 on the see he harde a so we.— T.

interchanged. T. has : « mopne dryilke ._ T .

EGLAMORE.

355

the bore saw where the ~Knight stood,
his tuskes he whetted as he were * wood,
380 to him he drew that tyde.

Sir Eglamore weened well what to doe,
with a speare he rode him to
as ffast as he might ryde.
384 all if hee 2 rode neuer soe ffast,
the good speare assunder brast,

it wold not in the hyde.
that bore did him woe enonghe,
388 his good horsse vnder him he slough ;
on ffoote then mnst 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 that tyde,
but to an oake he sett his side
392 amongst the trees great ;

his good sword he drew out then,
& smote vpon 3 the wild swine
2 dayes & some deale more ; 4
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 an
oak,

cuts at the
boar two
days,

till he's
nearly dead,

but then
kills it.

5 the Kmg of Sattin on hunting fare
with 15 armed men & more ;

The King of
Sattin

1 The first e is made over an h in the
MS.— F.

- Gyfhe.— T.

3 fyghtyth with.— T.

4 Thro dayes and more. — T.

* The Thornton version makes Egylla-

mowrc 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 dethys wound,
The boke of Eome thus can telle. — F.

356

EGLAMOKE.

hoars the
boar yell,

and sends a
squire to see
who's in
danger.

The squire

sees Egla-
more

fighting the
boar.

404 the bore loud hard he yell ;
he camanded a squier to flare,
" some man is in his perill there !
I trow to long wee dwell."
408 no longer wold the sqiuer tarry,
hut rode fast thither, by S' Marye,

he was therto fiull snell ' ;
vp to the clifle rode hee thore ;
412 Sir Eglamore ffbught flast with the bore [page30i]
with stroakes fleirce & ffell.

He tells the

King the

boar is

slain

by a knight

with a blue
shield

and black
spurs.

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 ~K.night 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. 2
432 t the ~K.ing said, " god rest with thee ! "

"my Lore?," said Eglamore, " welcome be yee,

query MS. siell. — F.

2 And to reste hym down he lay. — T.

EGLAMORE.

357

436

of peace now I thee pray !
I haue soe ffoughten w/th the bore
that certainlye I may noe more ;

this is the 3 d day."

exhausted ;

they all said anon-right,
" great sinn itt were With thee to flight,
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,

that all wee haue seene !
this haue I wist, the sooth to say,
448 he hath slaine 40 l on a day

of my armed knights keene ! 2

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 saies,
" I haue ffought these 4 dayes, 3
and not a ffoote him ffledd."
then said the King, " I pray thee
460 all night to dwell with mee,
& rest thee on a bedd."

provides him
meat and
wine :

dines with
him,

and asks
him home to
sleep.

T. has

syxty.— T.

Welle armyd men and clone. — T.

The three days have grown to four

"Ye," he seyde, "permafay,
Now hyt ys the fyrste day

That evyr oon fote y fledd." — F.

358

EGLAMORE.

Eglamore
tells the
King
what his
name is,

and the
King tells
him of a

& after meate, the soothe to say,
the King Sir Eglamore did pray
464 " of what country hee was."

" my name," he said, "is Sir Eglamore l
I dwell alsoe with Sir Prinsamoure,
that Erie is of artoys."
468 then Lords to the King drew,

" this is hee that Sir Marroccke slew,

the gyants brother Mamasse. 2
" Sir," said the King, " 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.

40
" 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. 3
480 the bore thou hast slaine here,

that hath liued here this 15 yeere 4

christen men for to sloe,
Now is he gone with sorrow enough [page 301] s
484 to [berye 6 ] his brother that thou slough."
[that evyrmore be hym woo ! 7 ]

No one can
cut up the
boar

to break 8 the bore they went ffull tyte ;
there was noe kniffe that wold him bitte, 9

1 He said " My name is Syr Awntour."
— T.

2 Yondur ys he that Arrok slowee,

The yeauntys brodur Maras. — T.
8 Fulle seldoine have y thus sene soo.
— T.

4 He hath fedd hym xv yere. — T.

5 There are two pages 301 in the MS.,
and no page 302. — F.

6 berye T.

7 From the Thornton MS.— F.

8 splatt— T.

9 Query MS.; it may be kitte.—E,
byte.— T.

EGLAMORE.

359

488 soe hard of hyde was hee.

" Sir Eglamore, 1 thou him sloughc ;
I trow thy sword 2 be good enough ;
haue done, I pray thee." 3
492 Eglamore to the bore gan gone,
& claue him by the ridge 4 bone,

that ioy itt was to see ;
"Lordings," he said, "great & small, 5
496 giue me the head, & take you all ;
for why, that is my ffee."

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 ! " 6
all the countrye was ffaine,
for the wild 7 bore was slaine,
they made ffull royall cheere.
504 the Queene said, " god send 8 vs from shame !
ffor when the Gyant cometh home,
new ty dings shall be here. 9 "

The people
rejoice at the
boar's
death.

508

against euen the ILing did dight
a bath ffor that gentle Knight,

1 Syr Awntour, seyde the kyng. — T.

2 knyfe.— T.

3 Gyf that thy wylle bee.— T.

4 A. -Sax. hricg, ricg, the back. — F.

5 Lorde, seyde the knyght, y dud hym
falle.— T.

6 Aftur eartys can they sende ;
Ageyn none home with that they

wende,
The cyte was them nere. — T.

7 wekyd.— T.

8 schylde.— T.

9 gete we sone. — T., and it adds, p. 142:
For he ys stronge and stowte,

And therof y havo mekylle dowte

That he wyllo do us grete dere or we
have done.

XLV.

Syr Egyllamowre, that nobylle kny3t,
Was sett with the kyuges doghtyr
bryght,

For that he scholde be blythe.
The maydenys name was Organata

so fre ;
Sche preyeth hym of gode cliere to bee,

And besechyd hym so many a sythe.
Aftur mete sche can hym telle
How that geant wolde them quelle :

The knyght began to lagh anorie ;
" Damyselle," ho seyde, "so mote y theo,
And he come whylle y here bee,

Y schalle hym assay sone !"

360

EGLAMORE.

Eglamore
lies in a
bath, all
niglit.

that was of Erbes l good.
Sir Eglamore therin Lay
till itt was light of the day,
512 that men to Mattins 2 yode.

[Part III. 3 ]

[How Eglamore kills another Giant, and a Dragon near Rome, and
begets a Boy on Christabell.]

Next
morning
the Giant
comes,

and demands
the King's
daughter
Arnada.

Eglamore

tells a squire

to show the
Giant the
boar's head.

The Giant

swears he'll
avenge its
death,

516

3? 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 4 thy danghter ffree,

or I shall 5 spill thy blood."

Sir Eglamore an on- right 6

in good armour he him dight,
& vpon the walles he yode 7 ;
he camanded a squier to beare
the bores head vpon a speare,

that the Gyant might itt 8 see.
& when he looked on the head,
" alas ! " he said, 9 " art thou dead ?

my trust was all in thee !
now by the Law that I liue in, 10
my litle speckeled hoglin, 11

deare bought shall thy death bee ! "

1 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 Soke cf c. E. K, 1 ext
Soc. 1868, p. 182-5.

2 mete.— T.

3 T. ends its seconde fytt with stanza 52,
1. 611 below.— P.

4 Organata.— T.

5 thou schalt.— T.

6 that nobylle knyght.- — T.

7 for ' yode he.' — F. wendyth hee. — T.

8 Maras myght hym. — T.

9 my bore. — T.

10 leve ynne. — T.

11 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 wold he spare,
towards the castle gan he crye,
" false traitor ! thou shalt dye l
536 for slaying of my bore !

yowr strong walles I doe 2 downe ding,
& -with, my hands I shall the hange 3
ere that I ffurther passe. 4 "
540 but through the grace of god almight,
the Gyant had his mil of fight,
& therto some deale more. 5

and

threatens to
kill Egla-
more.

46 b

Sir Eglamore was not agast ;

544 on might-ffull god was all his trust,
& on his sword soe good,
to Eglamore said the K.ing then,
" best is to arme vs euery e man ;

548 this theefe, I hold him 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 KmgM.

[page 303J

gives his
steed a
gallop,

48
Sir Eglamore into the ffeild taketh ;
556 the Gyant see him, 7 & to him goeth ;

takes the
field,

1 Thevys, traytures, ye schalle abye.
-T.

2 schalle.— T. s hynge.— T.

4 fare, qu. — P. Or that y hens fare.
-T. 5 mair. — P.

6 T. makes one stanza, XLIX, of
these, p. 144-5, and alters the arrange-
ment of the lines, &c. — F.

7 him has a line through it. — F.

VOL. II.

B I!

'M'A

EGLAMORE.

mid ohargcH
the iant,

W'llO UpSCtS

liim and his
horse.

"welcome," he said, " my ffeere !
thou art hee that slew ! my bore !
that shalt thou repent ffull sore,
560 & buy itt wonderous deere ! "

Sv'r Eglamore weened well what to doc;
wtth a speare he rode him to,
as a man of armes cleere.
564 against him the Gyant was rcdy bowne,
but horsse & man he bare all downe,
that dead ho was ffull nere.

KglilUIOIV

attacks him
on foot.

and cuts olT
i he < 1 Lant's
right ana,

but ho
fights on
tin sun-
down,

and then
drops dead.

They ring
the bells ;

King

Edward
promises

to crow n
Eglamore

S/r Eglamore cold noe better read,
568 but what time his horsse was dead,
to his ffoote he hath him tane ;
& then Eglamore to him gan goe ;
the right arme he smote him froe,
572 euen by the sholdcr bone ;
& tho he 2 had lost his hand,
all day hee stood a ffightand
till the ssun to rest gan goe ;
576 3 the sooth to say, w/thoutcn lye,
he sobbed & was soe drye
that liffe 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 4 name,
swore to Sir Eglamore, " by St. lame,
584 here shalt thou be JLing !

1 Y trowe thou halpe to sle. — T.
- Thowe the lorelle.— T.
8 Then was he so wery ho myjt not
stonde,

Tho blode ran so faste fro hym on

every honde,
That lyfe dayes hadd he nevyr oon.
— T.
. kyngea.— T.

EGLAMORE.

363

588

592

596

600

604

608

" to-morrow thow slialt crowned bee,
& thou slialt wed my daughter ffree

with, a curyous rich ringe ! "
Eglamore answered with words mild :
" god l giue you ioy of yo«r child !

ffor here I may not abyde longe. 2 "

51
" Sir Eglamore, for thy doughtye deedc
thou shalt not be called lewd

in noe place where thou goe ! " 3
then said Arnada, 4 that sweete thing,
" haue here of me a o'old ring:

with, a precyous stone ;
where-soe you bee on water or Land,
& this ring vpon jour hand,

nothing may you slone."

" 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,
~K.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 ! 5

and marry
him to his
daughter.

Eglamore
declines the
young lady,

though she
gives him a
charmed
ring

and offers to
wait fifteen
years for
him.

He puts her
off,

and starts

towards

Artoys.

1 Syr. — T. 2 may ye not lende. — T.
3 Y schalle geve the a nobylle stede,
Al so redd as ony roone ;
Yn yustyng ne in turnement,
Thou schalt never soffur dethys
wound
"Why lie thou syttyst hym upon.

— T.
* Seyde Organata. — T.

5 The knyght takyth hys leve and
farys,
Wyth the geauntys hedd and the
borys,
The weyes owre Lord wylle hym
lede.
Thys ys the seconde fytt of thys :
Make we mcry, so have we blys,
For fern have we to rede. — T.

B B 2

364

EGLAMORE.

In seven
weeks Egla-
more reaches
Artoys,

is greeted by
Christabell ,

612 by that 7 weekes were comen to end,
euen att Artoys lie did lend,
wlieras Prinsamonre was.
the Erie therof was greatly faine
616 that Eglamore was come againe ;
soe was both more 1 and lesse.
when Christabell as white as swan,
heard tell how Eglamore was come,
620 to him shee went fnll yare ; 2

whom he

kisses,

but her
father says,
" Devil take
you, will
nothing kill
you?

You want
my land and
my daughter
I suppose."

54
the Knight kissed that Lady gent,
then into the hall hee went
the Erie for to teene.
624 The Erie answered, & was ffull woe

" what devill ! may nothing thee sloe ?

forsooth, right as I weene,
thon art about, as I vnderstand,
628 for to whin Artoys & all my Land,
& alsoe my daughter cleane."

[page 304]

"I do.

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 ! " 3

the Erie said, " such chance may flail,

that one may come & quitt all,
be thou neuer so prest."
636 " but good hord, 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 haue ye
faryn ? "

" Damycelle, welo, and in travelle byn
To brynge us bothe owt of care."

3 Helpe God that ys beste.— T.

EGLAMORE.

365

640

my weary body to rest."
12 weekes were granted then
by prayer of many l a gentleman,

& comforted him with the best.

Sir Eglamore after supper
went to Christabells chamber
644 w/th torches burning bright.

the Ladye was of soe great pride, 2
shee 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. 3

57
by that 12 weekes were come & gone,
Christabbell that was as faire as sunn, 4
656 all wan waxed her hewe.

shee said vnto her maidens ffree,
" in that yee know my priuitye, 5
looke that yee bee trew ! "
660 the Erie angerlye gan ffare,

he said to Eglamore, "make thee yare

for thy Iourney a-new ! "
When Christabell therof heard tell, 6
664 shee mourned night & day,

that all men might her rue.

after supper
goes to
ChristabelFs
chamber,

stays there
all night,
and begets a
son on her.

In twelve

weeks

Christabell

grows wan ,

and begs her
maids to
keep her
secret.

The Earl
orders Egla-
more off,

and Christa-
bell mourns.

Only half the n is in the MS. — F.
was not for to hyde. — T.
T. adds :

So graeyously he come hur tylle,
Of poyntes of armys he schewyd
hur hys fylle,
That there they dwollyd alio nyjt.

4 as whyte as fome. — T.

5 Sche prayed hur gentylle women so

fro,
That they would layne hur privy to.

— T.
8 say.— P.

366

EGLAMORE.

Eglamoro's
Third Deed
of Aims is to
kill a strong
Dragon near
Rome.

the Erie said, " there is mee told long,
beside Roome there 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 that thou slay him w/th thy hand,
or else 2 say mee nay."

Eglamore
takes leave

of Chruta-
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 mower on ffeelde 3 ;
" 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. 4

The Dragon
throws down
him and his
horse.

if he were neuer soe hardye a ILnight,
fi88 when of the dragon he had a sight,
his hart began to be cold. 5
anon the dragon waxed wrothe,
he smote Siir Eglamore & his steed bothe,
692 that both to ground they ffell. 6

1 Ee xv. myle of way. — T.

2 ellys thou.— T. After nay T. adds
six lines not in our text.— F.

3 in may. — P.

1 The Thornton text adds :

Tokenynges sone of hym he fonde,
Slayne men on every honde ;

Be hunderdes he them tolde. — F.
to folde.—T.
To the grounde so colde. — T.

EGLAMORE.

367

Eglamore rose, & to him sett,
& on that ffowle worme hee bett
with stroakes many and bold ' ;

[page 305]

Eglamore
attacks the
Dragon,

61
696 the dragon shott fire with his mouth
like the devill of hell ;
Si'r Eglamore neere him gan goe,
& smote his taile halfe him ffroe 2 ;
700 then he began to yell,

& with the stumpe that yett was leaued
he smote Sir Eglamore on the head ;
that stroake was ffeirce and ffell.

cuts half its
tail ofE,

is wounded
himself in
the head,

704 "Sir Eglamore neere him gan goe,
the dragons head he smote of thoe,

fforsooth as I you say,
his wings he smote of alsoe, 3
708 he smote the ridge bone in 2,
& wan the ffeild that day.
the Emperour of Roome Lay 4 in his tower
& ffast beheld S/r Eglamore,
712 & to his ~K.nights 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.

The
Emperor

Constantino
of Rome

orders the
Dragon's
death to bo
proclaimed,

720

& then the Emperour tooke the way
to the place where Eglamore Lay,

then goes to
Eglamore,

1 Wyth byttur dynte and felle. — T.

■ Halfe the tonge he stroke away. — T.
3 The knyght seydo, " Now am y
schente ! "

Nere that wyckyd worme he went;

Hys hedd ho stroke away. — T.
stode.— T.

368

EGLAMORE.

brings him
to Rome,
and the
people meet
him in
procession.

beside that ffoule tiling,
with all that might ride oi' e;one.
S«'r Eglamore they haue vp tane,
"24 & to the towne they can him bring ;
ffor ioy that they dragon was slaine,
they came w/th procession him againe,

and bells they did ringe.
'28 the Emperonr of Roome brought him soone,
Constantino, that was his name,

a Jjord of great Longinge.

Cons tan-
tine's
daughter
Vyardus

heals Egla-
more's head,
and saves
his life.

1 all that euer saw his head,
732 the said that Eglamore was but dead,
that Knight Sir Eglamore.
the Emperour had a daughter bright,
shee vndertooke to heale the K» ight,
736 her name was vyardus. 2

3 with good salues shee healed his head
& saued him ffrom the dead,
thai Lady of great valours :
740 & there wrthin a little stoncl

shee made S*'r Eglamore whole & sound ;
god giue her honor ! 3

1 T. omits the next three lines. — F.

2 ys Dawntowre. — T.

3-3 The Thornton text has for these :
Scho savys hym fro the dedd,
And with hur handy s sche helyth hys
hedd

A twelmonth in hnr bowre.

It then adds two stanzas of twelves,
(LXVH, LXVIII, p. 153-4) telling how
the Emperor had the Dragon's body
fetched into Rome, and put in "seynt
Laurens kyrke." As to this church, see
Stations of Rome, p. 13 ; Pol. Bet. # Love
Poems, p. 132. p. xxxv. — F.

EGLAMORE.

369

744

4'! parte <

748

[Part IV.]

[How Christabell's child is born, and a Griffin flics away with it.]

65
Anon word came to Artois
how that the dragon slaine was :
a Knight that deede had done.
hoc long at the Leeche-craft he did dwell,
that a ffaire sonne ' had Christabell

as white as whales bone. 2
then the Erie made his vow,
" daughter ! into the sea shalt thou
in a shipp thy selfe alone !
Thy younge sonne shall be thy fere, 3
christendome 4 getteth itt none here ! "
her maidens wept eche one.

752

While- I

moK

under the

doctor's

hands,

Christabell

has a son.

Her father
vows hell
send her and

ll'rr bl

to sea alone.

8 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 mood.

ffarwell," shee said, "my maidens firee !
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 mower
that vnknown wayes yeeldc. 6

Christ

prays that a
liri'-r-t may
Ray a ■
for them,

and t..

maidens.

[papc 306]

1 A man-chylde. — T.

2 Some ancient writers imagined ivory,
formerly made from the teeth of tho
walrus, to be formed from the bones of
tin; whale. HalliweH's Gloss.— F.

3 And that bastard that to the j

dere.— T.

4 christening. -

inserts a stanza and a quarter
here, p. 154-5, but leaves out the mother's
swooning. — F.
B ycede. — P.

;

' -
■

- . \ j .

• ae w • - ■ ■" ■ i mA t

■
M«>t Stales a were there,

■
I
hex 3 oux . • • -v

tho i swJyi wept, a a

?80 :' ..:t ouov si-..

■ \ ohihl is utkou mo ffi
tho 1\ of K.'.-vll OB huntings wont .
ho s:iw whoiv tho tVoulo lout ;

784 towards him gas he goe

.: griflbn, tho Ivoko snith : ' M ho L
Mot U) Is.-uvll o!i«l light,

M<!t wrought r": .:t l.iulvo W06
?88 tho tl'oulo Smote him w.th his hill,
tho ohihl orvool :u>«l likoo! ill j

tho grifibn thou lotht hini t In ■ .-

.i gentlewoman bo tl ; child ' ' gas pe
A Lapp[1 ' hi m a mantle of Scarlet! was,

A w.th ;i noh u:uv "

1 tv,*i,\ r.

' there had iv n kendo londe r.

pyge, T. V'v

griffbu, i\'t;'.v;\v>-. (irvj'o. bym<e, «'«/•
. Promptorium sec wc Vi y'a aote
to it, i-. 312 18, v.

1 aakuowt r.

v b squyor t>> i ho chylde r.

' l':P.U' ,>i" llll'r,', ( I' :'■.■■- M , \) .

.i skiaae, (oil or hide (Cotgmve) .

uviu 1. .;■.;■: ■;:.>. U.iv. l'|v ivuutiT|vw<>\

the Kmg mr&rQ by the r . I

* the child fa come of gejstle hi-.

whefwenet fhat hoe was

ma & Jo* he fFroe the Griffon fFell,
they xv... x:II,

I hot ! -. in wilsome way.

■
l tegra-

the Km'/ wold hnnt noe more that tyde,
804 but w^th the child hornew a ... ryde,

fhat ffYom the Griffon was hent.
;.rn," ho sa<'d to h. .if;,

" (Trill, oft f bane a h >eene;

this day #od hath me lent."
hat Child he was hi y the;
after nnrses shoe went belino ;
tho child was lonelyo o-ent.
m &f this chylde,
<% talko wo.o of bis mother mild,
I bor sent.

him ho

i •: for

imf:.

all tin fa@$ La

816 a wind rose vpon tho ' (

e Land her dn'neth.
iri /' [jjrp was neither mast nor oro.

1 enery stroamo vpon other

(hat 8a»t rpos h< 'h.

& as the great booke of Roome sa.

sbo.e was w/thont r.

eat elifFi

yen
, the
sea,

I fiw:

2 M,

372

EGLAMORE.

and then
reaches

Egypt.

The King

sends a
squire to her.

Christabell

cannot speak
to the squire,

824 by that 5 dayes were gone,
god sent her succonr soone ;
in cegipt l shee arriued.

72
the "King of .^Egipt l lay in his tower,
828 & saw the Ladye as white as fflower
that came right neere the Land ;
he comanded a Squire ffree
to ' Looke what in that shipp might bee
832 that 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 signes with her hand. 2

[page 307]

who goes
back to the
King,

and tells
him what a
lovely
foreign
woman he
has seen.

73
the squier wist not what shee ment ;
840 againe to the K.ing he went,
& kneeled on his knee :
" Lord, in the shipp nothing is,
sauing one in a womans Likenesse
844 that ffast looked on mee.

but on 3 shee be of fflesh & bone,
a ffairer saw I neuer none,
saue my Ladye soe ffree ! 4
848 shee maketh signes with her hand ;
shee seemeth of some ffarr Land ;
vnknowen shee is to mee. 5

1 The MS. may be either (E or M in
this and other cases. — F.

2 The Thornton text adds :
Make we mery for Goddys est;

Thys ys the thrydd fyttc of owre geste,

That dar y take an hande. —

3 an, if.— F.

4 But hyt were Mary free. — T.

5 Beyonde the Grekys see. — T.

KGLAMORE.

373

Sir Marmaduke ' highet the Kmg, 2
852 he went to see that sweet tiling,
he 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 & mildc,
shee had be wept sore her child,
that almost gone shee was. 3
860 home to the court they her Ledd,
with good meates they her ffedd ; 4
with good will shee itt taketh. 5

King Mar-
maduke

goes to
Christabell,

speaks to
her,

takes her
borne to
Court,
feeds her
well,

75
" Now, good damsell," said the Kmg,
864 " where were you borne, my sweet thing ?
yee are soe bright of blee."
" Lord, in Artois borne 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 ;

Iocund wee were and Iollye :
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 lefft my maidens all,
876 my younge squier on sleepe gan flail,
my mantle al on him I threw ;

wrapped him
in her
mantle,

1 Marmaduke seems to have been from
Marmaluke. — Pencil note.

2 Be Ihesu swere that gentylle kynge.
— T. T. doesn't give " The kyng of

Egypt " a name. — F.

3 Sche was wexyn alle horse. — T.

4 Dylycyus metys they liur badd. — T.

5 sche them tase. — T.

374

E GLAMORE.

and a griffin
flew away
with him.

" All right,
you shall be
my niece
then:"

and Christa-
bell stays in
Egypt.

a griffon there came that rouglit nie care,
my yotmge squier away hee bare,
8S0 southeast with him hee drew."

" damsell," he sa*d, "be of good cheere,
thou art my brothers daughter deere."
ifor Ioy of him shee louge ;
884 * & there shee did still dwell
till time that better beffell,
with ioy and mirth enoughe. 1

[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
Home,

to go home
to Christa-
bell.

He reaches
Artois,

77
Now is Eglamore whole & sound,
& well healed of his wound ;

homeward then wold bee flare,
of the Emperour he tooke leaue I- wis,
5 : d parte J of the daughter, & of the Empresse,
892 & of all the meany that were there.

Christabell was most in his thought :
the dragons head hee home brought,
on his speare he itt bare.
896 by that 7 weekes were come to end,
in the land of Artoys can he Lend,
wheras the Erie gan flare.

and his
squire tells
him that
Christabell
is dead.

in the court was told, as I vnderstand,
900 how that Eglamore was come to Land
with the di*agons head,
his Squier rode againe him soone,
" Sir, thus hath our Lord do one ; 2
904 fiaire Christabell is dead !

1—1 Kepe we thys lady whyte as flowre,
And speke wo of syr Egyllamowre ;

Now comyth to hym care y-nogh. — T.
2 Lo ! lorde, what the erle hath done ! — T.

EGLAMORE.

375

908

a ffaire sonne shee had borne ;
1 bothe they are now fforlorne

through his ffalse read ; l
In 2 a shipp hee put them 2,
& with the wind let them goe."

then swooned 3 he where hee stood.

Her father
sent her and
her boy

[page 308] out to sea in
a ship.

Eglamore
swoons,

" alas ! " then said the Knight soe ffree,
912 " Lord ! where may my maidens bee
that in her chamber was ? "
the Squier answered him null 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 that here his lead !
what dost thou in this place ? " 4

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 that dyed on the rood bitterlye, 5
on thy soule haue mercye,
928 and on that younge child soe ffree ! "
the Erie was soe feard of Eglamore
that he was ffaine to take his tower ; G

Eglamore
laments over
Christabell
and her boy,

1—1 The erle hath hys lyfe forlorne,
He was bothe whyte and rede. — T.

2 Im in MS.— P.

3 Swooning was the correct thing for
a knight, and on very much less provo-
cation than this. See many instances
in 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.

5 on crosse verye. — T.

G Tho erle rose up and toke a towrc.
— 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 that the order of Km>/it-hoode will hauc,
rise vp & goe with mee ! ,l

He dubs

thirty-two

knights,

starts for the
Holy Land,

81
they were ffull fame to do his will ;
936 vp they rose, & came him till ;
he gaue them order soone.
the while that he in hall abode,
32 l knights he made,
940 ffrom morne till itt was noone.
2 those that liuing had none,
he gaue them liuing to hue vpon,
ffor Christabell to pray soone.
944 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 ;
null manffullye he there him bare,
where any deeds of armes were,
952 against him that liued 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 wiglit ;
960 the King 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-ins-e
968 a man child in a mantle round
& with, 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 King of Isarell, hee waxed old ;
972 to degrabell his sonne he told,
" I wold thou had a wiffe
while that I liue, my sonne deere ;
when I am dead, thou hast noe ffere,
976 riches is soe riffe." *

a messenger stoode by the King :
" in -(Egipt is a sweet thing,
I know noe such on liue ;
980 the King, fforsooth, this oath hath sworne,
there shall none her haue that is borne

But he winne her by striffe." [ pag e 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.

1 When y am dcdd, thou getyst no pore,
Of ryches thou art so ryi'e. — T.

C C

378

EGLAMORE.

land in
Egypt,

and

announce
their coming
to the King
of Egypt.

He welcomes
them,

85
by tthat 7 dayes 1 were comen to end,
in segipt Land they gan Lend,
the vnconthe costes to see. 2
992 messengers went before to tell,

" here cometh the Kmg of Isarell

with a ffaire Meany,
& the Prince with many a "Knight,
996 ffor to haue jour daughter bright,
if itt jour wil be."
the King said, " I trow I shall
ffind Lodging 3 if or you all ;
1000 right welcome yee are to mee ! "

leads the
King of
Isarell into
the hall,

86
then trumpetts in the shipp 4 rose,
& euery man to Land goes ;

the Knights were clothed in pall.
1004 the younge Knight of 15 yeere,
he rydeth, as yee may heere,

a ffoote aboue them all.
the King of Isarell on the Land,
1008 the King of iEgipt takes him by the hand
& Ledd him into the hall :
5 " Sir," said the King, "ffor charity e,
will you lett mee jour daughter see, 5
1012 white as bone of whall ? "

and lets him
see Christa-
bell.

Her son
Degrabell
desires her,

1016

87
the Lady ffrom the chamber was brought ;
with mans hands shee seemed wrought

& carued out of tree,
her owne Sonne stood & beheld :

1 Be th[r]e wekys.— T.

2 Ther forsus for to knowe swythe.
-T.

3 redy yustyng. — T.

4 Trnmpus in the topp-castelle. — T.

5 Y prey the thou gyf me a syght
Of Crystyabelle, yowre doghtyr

bryght.— T.

EGLAMORE.

379

" well worthy e him that might wold ! "

thus to himselfe thought hee.
the King of Isarell asked then
1020 if that she l might passe the streame,
his souues wiffe fFor to bee.
" Sir," said the King, " if that you may
meete me a stroake to-morrowe,
1024 thine asking grant I thee."

Lords in hall were sett,
& waites blew to the meate.
they made all royall cheere ;
1028 the 2 Kings the desse began, 2

Sir Degrabell & his mother then,

the 2 were sibb ffull neere.
then Knights went to sitt I- wis,
1032 & euery man to his office,

to serue the Knights deere ;
& affter meate washed they, 3
& Clarkes grace gan say
1036 in hall, as you may heere.

89
then on the morrow when day sprong
gentlemen in their armour 4 throng,
Degrabell was flight ;
1040 the King of JEgipt gan him say
in a fFaire ffeeld that day

With many a noble Knight,
what time the great Lord might him see,
1044 they asked, " what Lord that might bee
w/th the griffon soe bright ? "

and may
have tier if
he wins her

They iline.

and Degra-
bell and his
mother have
the high

seat.

Next day

Degrabell
arms,
and the
King of
Egypt tries
him.

1 MS. the. Yf she.— T. (with other
changes). — F.

2 had the chief seats on the dais. — F.

3 See the operation described in The
Boke of Curtasyc §c. (E. E. Text Soc.

1867).— F. T. has:

Aftur mete, than seydo they
Deus pads, clerkys canne seye.
4 to haruds.— T.

c c 2

380

EGLAMORE.

1048

the ruler of that game gan tell,
"this is the Prince of Isarell !
beware ! ffor he is wight."

Degrabell
sits firm,

unhorses the
King,

wins Christ-
tabell,

the Kmg of yEgipt tooke a shafft ;
the Prince saw that, & sadlye sate,
if he were neuer soe keene. 1
1052 against the King he made him bowne,
And on the ground he cast him downe,

the ground that was soe greene.
they King 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,

euerye Lord gan other assay,
& squiers on the other day,
1060 that doughtye were of deede.

Si'r Degrabell his troth hee plight ;
& Christabell, that Ladye bright,
to church they her ledd.
1064 through the might of god he 2 spedd,
his owne mother there he wedd,

in Romans as wee reade. 3
shee saw his armes him beforne 4 ;
1068 shee thought of him that was forlorne,
shee wept like to be dead.

" what cheere," he said, " my Lady cleere 5 ? "
what weepe you, & make such heauye cheere ?
1072 methinkes you are in thought."

1 ? MS. keere.— F.

2 Thus gracyously he hath. — T.

s Thus harde y a clerke rede. — T.

1 MS. beforme— F.
5 The word may be clcerre. T. omits
this and the next two lines. — F.

EGLAMOKE.

381

" Sir, in ycmr armes now I see
a ffoule that [rafte] on a time ffrom mee
a child that I deere bought, 1
1076 that in a scarlett mantle was wound,
& in a girdle of gold bound

that richefy was wrought."
the King of Isarell said ffull right,
1080 " in my fforrest the ffoule gan Light ;
a griffon to Land him brought."

and tells him
how a bird
toot her boy
away,

in a mantle,
and with a
gold girdle
on.

The King of
Isarell says
the Griffin
alighted in
his land,

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 richly e 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 King gan say.
1092 " S/r, 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.

94
" fforsooth, my sonne, I am afraid
that to 2 sibb maryage wee haue made
1096 in the beginninge 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] Erles good,

& soe I doe my mother, by the roode,
that I wedded before they noone ;

She tells her
son -husband

that their
marriage is
void.

The King
offers her
any husband
she'll choose.

No, says
Degrabell,

1 That sometyme rafte a chykle fro me,
A knyght fulle clere hym boght. — T.

2 When to stands for too, the o will be
accented hereafter. — F.

382

EGLAMORE.

the knights
must fight
for her.

there shall none haue her certainly e
1104 but if he winne her with maisterye
as I my-selfe haue cloone."

All the lords
agree to
do so.

then euery Lord to other gan say,
" ffor her I will make delay 1
1108 with a speare & sheeld in hand ;
who-soe may winne that Lady clere,
ffor to be his wedded ffere,
must wed her in that Land."

[Part VI.]

[How Eglamore won back his lost love Christabell, and married her.]

Eglamore,

many lords,

and the
King of
Sattin, come
to the
tourney.

Lists are
prepared,

and all the
lords make
ready.

Sir Eglamore was homward bowne,
he hard tell of that great renowne,

& thither wold hee wend. 2
great Lords that hard of that crye,
6- Parte <; they rode thither hastilye,

as ffast as they might ffare.
the King of Sattin 3 was there alsoe,
& other great Lords many more
120 that royall armes 4 bare.

Then ringes were made in the ffeeld
that Lords might therin weld ;
the bnsked & made them yare.
1124 S*r Eglamore, thoe he came Last,
he was not worthy out to be cast ;
that Knight was clothed in care.

1 For hur love we wylle tnrnay. — T.

2 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.

4 yoly colourys. — T.

lJGL.UlOilE.

383

97
ffor that Christabell was put to the sea,
1128 new armes beareth liee,
I will them descrye :
he beareth in azure a shipp of gold,
ffull richly e portrayed on the mold, [ pag e 311]
1132 ffull well & worthy lye ;

the sea was made both grim & bold ;
a younge child of a night old,
& a woman Lying there by ;
1136 of siluer was the mast, of gold the ffane ' ;
sayle, ropes, & cables, eche one
painted were worthylye.

Eglamore
bears as
arms, on a
blue shield

a gold ship,

with a child,
and a

woman lying
by it.

98
heralds of armes soone on hye,
1140 euery Lords armes gan descrye
in that ffeeld soe broade. 2
then Chr[i]stabell as white as mower,
she sate vpon a hye tower ; 3
1144 ffor her that crye was made.

the younge knight of 15 yeere old
that was both doughtye & bold,
into the ffeeld he rode.
1148 who-soe that Sir Degrabell did smite,
with his dint they ffell tyte,
neuer a one his stroake abode.

Christabell
sits in a high
tower :

her son
Degrabell

rides into
the field,

and fells all
who attacks
him.

Sir Eglamore houed 4 & beheild

1152 how the folke in the feild downe feld

they ls.nights all by-dcenc.

Eglamore
looks on.

1 Fane, a "Weather-cock, which turns
about as the Wind changes, and shews
from what Quarter it blows. Phillips.
— F.

- The three lines above are not in T.

— F.

3 "Was broght to a corner of the
walle.— T.

1 halted, stood still. The first three
lines of this stanza are not in T. — F.

384

EGLAMOltE.

DegrabeU
him

why he
stands still.

"Because I
am come out
of heathen
lands.

when DegrabeU him see, he rode him till, 1
& said, " Sir, why are you soe still
1156 amonge all these 'Knights keene ? '
Eglamore said to him I-wis, 2
" I am come out of heathenesse,
itt were sinne mee to meete. 3 "
1160 DegrabeU said, " soe mote I thee !

more worshipp itt had beene to thee,
vnarmed to haue beene."

Haven't yon
jousting
enough ?

100

the ffather on the sonne Lough ;
1 164 " haue yee not lusting enoughe 4
where euer that you bee ?
that day ffall haue I seene,
wt'th as bigg men haue I beene,
1168 & 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. 1]72 heard together they k/<^/<ts donge

w«th great speares sharpe and longe ;

them beheld eche one.
S<r Eglamore, as itt was his happ, 5
1176 giue his sonne such a rappe 6
that to the ground went hee.

I'll have a
turn with
you."

Eglamore
gives his son
a rap,

grounds
him,

and wins
Christahell.

101
" alas ! " then said that Ladye ffree,
" my sonne is dead, by gods pittye !
1180 the keene knight hath him slaine ! "
then men said wholy on mold,
" the Kmght that beares the shipp of gold
hath wonne her on the plaine."

1 He sende a knyght anon tulle stylle.
-T.

" He seyde, Syr recreawntes. — T.
3 tene, T., which is better. — F.

4 T. alters this aiid the next nineteen
lines. — F.

5 turnyd hys swerde flatt. — T.

6 patte.— T.

EGLAMOEE.

385

102
1184 Hcrallcls of arrues cryed then,

" is there now any manner of man

will make his body good,
that will rust any more ?
1188 say now while wee be here ! "

then a while they still stoode.
Degrabell said, " by god almight !
methinkes that I durst with hiui 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

Eglamore.

None
answer

so Christa-
beU is
adjudged to

him.

103
1196 ffor to vnarme him Lords gan goe ;
1 clothes of gold on liim they doe,

& then to nieate the wende.
S/r Eglamore then wan the gree,
1200 beside the Lady sett was hee :

shee frened him as her ffreiml, 1
" ffor what cause that he bore
a shipp of gold w/th mast & ore."
1204 he said w/th words hende,

" damsell, into the sea was done
my Lady & my younge 2 sonne ;
& there they made an ende."

Eglamore
i> clad in
cloth of gold,

and sits in
the chief
place with
Christahell.

She asks
him why
his arms
are a ship.

'• Because

my lady and

son were
put to sea,
and died."

104

1208 3 knowledge to him tooke shee thoe ;
"now, good S/r, tell me soe,

where they were brought to ground ? " [page 312] they buried ?

-' In eortyls, sorcatys, and schorte
clot Ins,
That doghty weryn of dede.
Two kyngys the deyse began,

Syr Koylhnnowre and Crystyabelle
than :
Ihesu us alio spede! — T.
- lemman and my yongest. — T.
8 T. omits the next six lines.— F

386

EGLAMOKE.

" I was
away.
Her father
sent her to

sea tn

drown."

What is

your name ?

" Sir Egla-
more of
Artois."

" while I was in ffarr count rye
1212 her ffather put her into the sea,
w*'th the waues to confounde."
wt'th honest mirth & game
of him shee asked the name ;
1216 & 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
suffered.

1220

(People
meet v\ hen
they least
expect it.)

The King of
Isarell tells
how lie
found
Degrabell,

1224

105
in swooning ffell that Lady ffree ;
" welcome, Sir Eglamore, to mee !

thy Loue I haue bought full deere ! "
then shee sate, & told full soone
how into the sea shee was doone ;

then wept both lesse and more.
1 minstrills had their giffts ffree,
wherby the might the better bee ;

to spend they wold not spare. 2
{full true itt is, by god in heauen,
that men meete att vnsett steven, 3

& soe itt beffell there.

100
1232 the King of Isarell gan tell

how that hee found Sir Degrabell ;
Lordings, Listen t^en : 4

1228

1 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.

2 For the former part of this st. 105,
T. has, st. cxi. p. 174:

There was many a robe of palle;
The cbylde servyd in the halle

At the fyrste mete that day.
Prevcly scho to hym spake,
" 3ondur ys thy fadur that the gate ! "

A grete yoye hyt was to see ay

When he kuelyd downe on hys kne,
Ther was mony an herte sore,
Be God that dyed on a tree !• — F.

3 unfixed time, time not appointed.
Compare Chaucer, in The Knightes Tale,
1. 666, v. ii. p. 47, ed. Morris :

It is ful fair a man to bere 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.

4 Knyghfys lystonyd ther-to than.
— T.

EGLAM0I1E.

387

S/r Eglamore kneeled on his knee,
1236 " my Lord ! " he said, " god yeeld itt thee !
yee haue made him a May. 1 "
the 'K.iiuj of Isarell said, " I will the[e] giue
halfe my kindome while I doe liue,
1240 my deere sonne as white as swan."

" thon shalt haue my daughter Arnada,"
the K.mg of Saftin sayd alsoe,

" I remember, since thou her wan."

and gives
him half his
kingdom.

The King of
Sattin
also gives
his daughter
Arnada to
Degrabell.

107
1244 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 Iesus christ them haue !
Kings, Erics, I vnde[r] stand,
■with, many dukes of other Lands,
1252 with Ioy & mirth enoughe.

the trumpetts in the shipp blowes,
that euery man to shipp goes,
the winde them ouer blew.

Eglamore
invites every
one in his
wedding.

All accept,

sail off,

108
125G through gods might, all his mcany
in good liking passed the sea ;

in Artois they did arriue.
the Erie then in the tower stoode,
1260 he saw men passe the mood,

& ffast 3 to his horsse gan driue.

and reach

Artois

safely.

The "old Earl

1 man. — T. May generally means
maiden; but mau-e, ma^e, is a kinsman ;
A.-Sax. mag, a son, kinsman. — F.

2 T. shortens and alters this stanza

and part of the next. — F.

3 ^o in printed copy, bni very differi ut
in the Cotton MS — Pencil note in MS.

383

EGLAMOltE.

falls out of
his tower
and breaks
his neck,

by a merciful
providence.

when he heard of Eglamore,
he ffell out of his tower
1264 & broke his necke beline.

the messenger went againe to tell
of that case, how itt beffell :
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 l thus in Artois the Lords the Lent;
after the Emperour 2 soone the sent,

to come to that Marry age ;
in all they land they mad crye,
1272 who-soe wold come to that ffeast worthye,
right welcome shold they bee ;
Sir Eglamore to the church is gone,
degrabell & Arnada they haue tane,
1276 and his Lady bright of blee.

the Kmg of Isarell said, " He giue
halfe my land while I Hue ;
brooke well [all 3 ] after my day."

The Feast
lasts forty
days,

and then all
the guests go
home.

110

1280 w/th mickle mirth the feast was made,
40 dayes itt abode

amonge all the Lorrfs hend ;
and then forsooth, as I you say,
1284 euery man tooke his way

wherin him liked to clAvell.

[page 313]

1 T. alters these concluding stanzas a
good deal. — F.

2 An Emperor was thought necessary
to give the proper eclat to a wedding :

Ther com tyl hir weddyng
An emperoure and a kyng,
Erchebyschopbz with ryng
Mo then fyftene !

The mayster of hospitalle
Come over with a cardinalle,
The gret kyng of Portyngalle,
With kny^thus ful kene.
Sir Degrevant, p. 252-3, Thornton
Eomances. — F.

3 all. p.c. — Pencil note. T. has not
the line. Brooke is A.-S. brucan, to
enjoy.— F.

EGLAMOKE.

389

minstrells had good great plentye,
that euer they better may the bee,
1288 and bolder ffor to spend.

in Romans this Chronickle is.
dere Iesns ! bring vs to thy blisse
that lasteth without end ! l

ffms.

Minstrels
get plenty of
money.

Christ bless
us all !

1 T. winds up with " Amen. Here endyth syr Egyllamowre of Artas, and Legyn-
neth syr Tryamowre." — F.

[" When Scortching Phoebus" 'printed in Lo. and Hum. Songs,
l>p. 70-3, follows here in the MS.]

390

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 eighteenth
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 des Romans,
which ranks it among Romans Historiques : * —

1 The Old song of Valentine & Ursin Chevaliers Valentin et Orson, fils de
or Or sin. l'Empereur de Grece et neveux du tres-

This song or Poem seems to be quite chretien Eoi de France Pepin, contenant

modern by the Language & versificat/on. 74 chapitres, lesquels parlent de plusieurs

N.B. This Poem only suggested the et diverses matieres tres-plaisantes et

subject of that I printed on Valentine re'creatives. Lyon, 1495, in-folio, et

and Ursin.— P. 1590 in-octavo, et depuis a Troyes, chez

2 Histoire des deux nobles et vaillans Oudot, in-quarto.

THE EMPEROUK AND THE CHILDE. 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 do Charle-
magne ; c'est celui dont on vient de lire le titre. II est bien constam-
ment liistorique, quoique l'liistoire y soit defiguree ; que Pepin y
voyage dans des pays dont il n'a jamais approche, tels que Constan-
tinople et Jerusalem, qu'on l'y fasse prisonnier d'un Roi des Incles,
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 l'liistoire de Charlemagne 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 ;
et nous croyons que nos lecteurs ne trouveront point trop long
l'exti'ait tres-detaille que nous allons en faire, chapitre 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 peut etre
range dans la meme classe : on peut aussi, si Ton veut, le compter
parmi les romans d'amour, 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 l'instant de leur naissance
jusqu'a leur mort ; tous deux sont 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
lY'poque plus haut que le regne de Charles VIII, temps oil 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 commencons notre extrait en suppliant nos
lecteurs d'avoir de l'indulgence pour la simplicity et la bonhomie
avec lesquelles cet ouvrage a ete compose. On y trouvera bien des
traits curieux et des situations tres-interessantes, meles avec mille
circonstances ridicules. La singularite de tout cela pourra, du moins,
amuser.

L'auteur raconte, d'abord, en peu de mots, la touchante histoire
de Berthe au grand pied, qui a fait la matiere d'un roman entier.

392 THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

dont nous avons donne l'extrait clans notre premier volume du mois
dernier. II suppose seulement que les deux fils de Pepin et de la fausse
Berth e vecurent, et se trouverent en etat, a la mort de Pepin, de com-
battre le roi Charlemagne et 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 sceur
nominee 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 common both
in France and in England. How it was generally treated will
be shown by the following headings of chapters from the Histoire
de Valentin et Orson, tres-nobles et tres-vaillants chevaliers, fds
de l'Empereur de Grece et neveux 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 l'Empereur fat train par l'Archeveque de Con-
stantinople.

Cap. III. — Comme l'Archeveque etant econduit de Bellisant pour
son honneur sauver, machina grande trahison.

Cap. TV. — Comme l'Archeveque se mit en habit de chevalier, et
monta a cheval 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 l'autre Orson, et comme
elle les perdit.

Cap. VI. — De l'ourse qui emporta de Bellisant parmi le bois.

Cap. VII.- — Comme par le conseil de l'Archeveque furent elevees
de nouvelles coutumes en la cite de Constantinople, et comme la
trahison fut connue.

Cap. VIII. — Comme l'Empereur Alexandre, par le conseil des
sages, envoya querir le roi Pepin pour savoir la verite de la querelle
du marchand et de l'Archeveque.

Cap. IX. — Comment le marchand et l'Archeveque se combattirent
au champ de bataille.

Cap. X. — Comme le roi Pepin prit conge de l'Empereur et partit
de Constantinople pour retourner en France, et comme apres il alia
a Rome contre les Sarrasins qui la cite avaient prise.

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE. 393

Cap. XI. — Comme Hauffroi et Henri eurent envie sur Valentin
pour le grand amour que lui portait le roi.

Cap. XII. — Comme Valentin conquit Orson son frere clans la foret
d' Orleans.

Cap. XIII. — Comme apres que Valentin eut conquis Orson, il
partit de la foret pour retourner a Oileans vers le roi Pepin.

Cap. XIV. — Comme Hauffroi et Henri, par envie, resolurent de tuer
Valentin en la chambre de la belle Esglantine.

Cap. XV. — Comme le due de Savary envoya vers le roi Pepin pour
avoir aide contre le vert chevalier qui voulait avoir sa fille Pezonne
pour epouse.

Cap. XVI. — Comme plusieurs chevaliers vinrent en Aquitaine
pour avoir la belle Fezonne.

Cap. XVII. — Comme Hauffroi et Henri firent guetter Valentin et
Orson sur le chemin pour le faire mourir.

Cap. XVIII. — Comme le roi Pepin commanda que devant son
palais fut appareille le champ pour voir Orson et Grigard combattre
ensemble.

******

Cap. LVI. — Comme Valentin fit la penitence qui lui avait ete
imjiosee 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 cbevalier.

Cap. LVIII. — Comme Bellisant et Escharmonde surent la trahison
et fausse entreprise du roi Hugon.

Cap. LIX. — Comme Orson et le vert chevalier furent delivres des
prisons du roi de Syrie, et comme le roi Hugon, pour eviter la guerre,
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 Greet

Emperor

an Emperour, whose name did ffar excell : oncemarried

1 a French

he tooke to wiffe the Lady B[e]llefaunt, Sd'B&to-

4 the only sister to the Kinge of ffrance, fauut -

•with whomo he liued in pleasure & delight They lived

1 ° . happily till

vntill that ffortune came to worke them spiglit.

VOL. II. d d

394

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

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 within the court a bishoppe l there did rest,
8 the which the Emperour held in great request ;
his enuious hart itt was soe sore enfflamed
vpon the Empresse, thai gallant dame,
2 that he wold perswade her many 3 a wile
12 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
16 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,
20 which made her husbands loue in wrath to proue.
then the Emperour went to her with speed,
ffor to accuse her of this shamefull deede.
and when shee saw how shee was betrayd,
24 her inocency shee began to pleade ;

but then her husband wold not heare her speake,
which made her hart with sorrow like to breake ;
but straight the Emperour he gaue command
28 that shee shold be banished 4 out of his land,
but when that shee ffrom them did goe,
before them all shee did reccount 5 her woe,
& said that shee was banished wrongff ullye ;
32 & soe shee went with sorrow like to dye.

now is shee gone, but with one Squier alone,
vnto her brother in ffrqnce to make her Mone.
And being come within the realme of ffrance, [page 3U
36 there beffell a very h'eauy chance !

ffor 6 as shee trauelled through a wild fforrest,
the labor of Childhood did her sore oppresse,

1 An Archpriest, says the Story Book.
—P.

2 That her he would persuade with.
—P.

3 with many, qu. — P.

4 banish'd be.— P.

5 recount. — P.

6 all follows in the MS., marked out.
— F.

TIIE EiirEROUR AND THE CIIILDE.

395

& more & more her paines increased still

40 that shee was fforced to rest against her will.
now att the lenght her trauell came to end,
ffor the T-iord 2 children did her send,
the which were fFaire & proper boyes indeed,

44 which made her hart with Ioy for to exceede.
but now behold how ffortune gan to Lower, 1
& turned her Ioy to greefe within an hower !
ffor why, shee saw an vgly beare as then,

48 the 'which, was come fforthe of some lothesome den;
& when the beare did see her in that place,
he made towards her with an Egar pace,
& ffrom her tooke one of her children small,

52 a sight to greeue the mothers hart wt'th-all.
but when shee saw her child soe borne away,
shee Laid the other downe, & did not stay,
& ffollowed itt as ffast as euer shee might ;

56 but all in vaine ! of itt shee lost the sight,
but soe itt chanced, att that verry tyde
the K.ing of ffrance did there a hunting ryde ;
& in the fforrest as he rode vp and downe,

GO 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,

C4 vntill the ffather of the child where 2 knowne.
the Empresse returned there backe againe,
when as shee saw the beare w/thin his den ;
but when shee saw her other sonne was lost,

GS her hart with sorrow then was like to burst,
then downe shee sate her with a heauy hart,
& wishes 3 death to ease her of her smart ;
shee wrong her hands with many a sigh full deepe
72 that wold haue made a fflyntye hart to wcepe.

she was
taken in
labour,

and bore
two boys.

A bear

carried off
one of tin m.

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

curried off.

The Empress
cornea back
for him,

but finds him
gone.

Her heart

Ql :n I;.
breaks.

i lour.— P.

2 Wire. — P.
d d 2

3 wish'd for. — P.

396

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

She leaves
the place,

and goes to
a castle
for help.

But a giant
lives there

and puts her
in prison,

but doesn't
hui't 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.

1 shown

2 The o
in the MS.

then shee departed from that woefull place,
& ffortk of ffrance shee went away apace ;
ffor why, as yett shee wold not there be knowen
76 vntill some newes of her young sonnes were shone. 1
but shee beheld a Castle ffaire & stronge, — 2
shee had not trauelled ffrom that place uot Long, —
wheratt shee knocket, some succour for to find.

80 but itt ffell out contrary to her mind ;

ffor why, w/th-in that castle dwelt as then

a monstrous gyant, Seared of all men,

who tooke this Ladye into his prison strong,

84 & there he kept her ffasfc 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 ;

88 & soe shee liued in prison long, god wotte.
the child the which the beare had borne away,
amongst her younge ones was brought vp alway,
& soe brought vp vntill att length as then

92 he there became a monstrous huge wild man,
& [d] ay lye ranged about the fforrest wilde,
& did destroy man, woman, beast and child,
& all things else which, by his den did passe,

96 which to the country great annoyance was.
the other child which they King 3 had ffound, 4
he christened was, & valentine was his name ;
& when he grew to be of ripe yeeres,
100 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 ;
104 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 ;

a ml n are squeezed together
- F.

3 the which the "King.-

4 tane ; qu. — P.

THE EMPEROUR ^ND TnE CHILDE.

397

but when the Kmg did heare the moane they made, 1
108 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 Kmg did sue [page 316]

1 12 that he might goe the Monster to subdue.

then fforthe 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,
116 he went vnto him & cast him downe right.

& when he saw his strenght cold not p?-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, 3 & with ffull intent

of [him] desired leaue by sea to sayle

into an He that Lyeth in Portingall,

wheras the hard 4 with-in a Castle was
128 a Ladye ffaire that kept a head of brasse,

the w/<i'ch cold tell of any questyon asket.

& thither came braue valentine att Last ;

& when that they to 5 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 6 they ffought or they cold in theratt.

then went they vpp wheras they head did stand ;

& by itt sate the bewtyous Claramande,

The King
jenils men to
kill him,

but ho kills
them.

Valentine
goes to
subdue him ;

the Wild
Man knocks
him down
with 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 i
brass head.

They go
there,

fight two
giants to

get in,

see the head
and fair
Claramande,

1 The m has one stroke too many in
the MS.— F.

2 It.— P.

3 Kmg of Fraunce, qu. — P.

4 heard.— P.
6 unto. — P.
6 whom. — P.

398

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

who asks
the head
whose son
Valentine is,
and who
the Wild
Man is.
The head
says,

"You are
brothers,
sons of the
Greek
Emperor,

and your
mother is in
King

Ferragus's
prison.
Cut the
string under
Ursin's
tongue, and
he'll speak."

This is done:

Valentine
marries
Clara-
maudo ;

and the
wo sons

kill

Ferraj a i,
and free
their
mother.

Then they
sill go to
I! reece,

whom, when the noble valentine did see,
140 he swore his hart ffor euer there sholcl bee.

then did shee speake vnto the head of brasse,

& bade itt tell whose sonne valentine was,

& whom the Avild man there shold bee.
144 to whom the head gaue answer presentlye :

" ffirst be it knowen, he is thy brother deere,

& you are both sonnes to the Grecyan peere ;

& jour mother wrongffullye banished was,
148 & you were both borne in a wild fforrest ;

& that l by a beare vrsin was nurst vpp,

& valentine by 2 his vnckles court ;

& your mother lyeth in prison stronge
152 with ~K.ing fferagus, 3 where shee hath beene long.

alsoe I say, looke vnder vrsines tounge ;

there shall you fund a string both bigg & stronge ;

cut that in tow, & then his speech shall breake ;
156 & this is all ; & I noe more can speake."

then vrsin to his speeche restored was hee,

& valentine had Claremonde soe ffree.

soe al together 4 on their Iourney went
160 towards their mother being in prison pent ;

& soe they came vnto the place att Last

wheras then 1 mother was in prison ffast ;

& him they slew that did their mother keepe,
164 & soe they brought her out of prison deepe.

& when that they were al together come,

vnto their mother they then made them knowne ;

wMch when shee saw her owne sonnes sett her fi'ree,
1 68 no ioye to her there might compared bee.

then presentlye they purpose to take read, 5

into the Land of greece to hye with speed.

& when that they had many a storme ore past,
172 they did arriue with-in that Land att last ;

1 there.— P.

2 in.— P.

3 This is the name of one of the

Charlemagne heroes. — F.

4 MS. altogether, and in 1. 1G5.

5 counsel. — P.

THE EMPEROUR AND THE CHILDE.

399

then on their Iourney 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 flavor 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 with bitter moanes,
flirst 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 liued in ioy, & Seared noe after clappe.

ffins.

to the Court.

When the
Emperor
finds his
wife
and sons,

he bewails
their past
sufferings ;

and they
live happily
thereafter.

400

fitting* t Eate : *

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 whistle,
and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights." Many

1 A Satire on the "Women. — P.

SITTIXGE LATE.

401

other references to the sibilant powers of the sixteenth and
seventeenth century carmen are given by Mr. Chappell, in his
Popular Music of Olden Time, a propos of the air called " The
Carmen's Whistle."

[page 317]

SlTTINGE : late, my selfe alone,

to heare the birds sweete harnionye,
one sighed sore with many a grone,

"my wiffe will still my master bee ! "
his sig[h]es ecclipsed bright Phebus beames,

his hart did burne like astna hill,
his teares like Nilus mowing streames, 1

his cryes did pence 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 2 his ffilly wold haue her owne will

The 'King of Sirya mad a law,

that euery 3 man wrth-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 owne will.

When Princely Paris, pride of Troye,

had stolen away Kmg Menelaus wiffe,
10 yeeres of warr was all his Ioy,

& 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 scorne

to let our wiues haue their owne will ?

I heard a
man

bewailing
that his
wife would
be his
master j

he wept, and
cried shrilly,

and said his
filly would
have her
will.

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 then kings
get into
trouble,

1 almoin iu the MS.— F. 2 MS. may b& grimye. — F. 3 fo r every,

— P.

402

SITTINGE LATE.

and Gods do
so too,

don't let us
mind about
letting our
wives have
their own
way.

Even
beggar-
women
get their
husbands
into scrapes ;

All that lookes blacke, diggs not ffor coles ;
how shold our chymneys then be swept ?
& he that thinkes to Iumpe ore Powles, l
32 may once a yeare be well out leapte ;
ffor vulcan wore a head of home 2
when least misprision was of ill.
lett no man liuing thinke itt scorne
36 to let his wiffe haue her owne will !

But shee that liues by nille 3 & tape,
& with her bagge & lucett 4 beggs,
oft makes her husband many a scape 5
40 although shee goes in simple raggs ;
ffor hungry doggs will alwayes range,

& vnsauory meate will staunch their hill ;
& they that 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
Rome.)

But he that goes ffrom dore to dore,

& cryes "old buskins ffor new broome ;"
althoe his liuing be but poore,
48 another must supply his roome.

" old bootes & buskins ffor new broome !

come buy, ffaire maids, & take jour full !
there are no Cucholds made att Roome ;
52 Pope lone hath sett itt downe by will."

1 Powles, i.e. St. Paul's.— P.

2 Note " in Brand's Popular Antiqui-
ties, ed. 1841, vol. ii.p. 126, col. 1, says,
" In ' Paradoxical Assertions and Philo-
sophical Problems, by P. H. 8vo. Lond.
1664, 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 make Horns at him ?' " " Cuck-
old. Cuckolled, treated in the way that

the cuckow (Lat. cuculus) serves other
birds, viz. by laying an egg in their
nest." Wedgwood. — F.

3 MS. iulle, but as the dot over the i
is very often misplaced in the MS. and
nill means needle, I print nille. — F.

4 perhaps budget. — P. Fr. lucet or
luchet is a spade. — F.

5 1. A misdemeanour ... 3. A trick,
shift, or evasion. Halliwell. — F.

SITTINGE LATE.

403

The Carman whistles vp & downe ;

another cryes " will yon buy any blackc l ? ' :
the cnntryman is held a clowne,
5G when better men hane greater lacke.
thus whiles they cards are shuffled about,

the knaue will in the decke 2 lye still ;
& if all secretts were found out,
60 I doubt a number wold want their will.

ffins.

It's well
that all
wives'
secrets
are not
known.

1 ? Fr. noir, blacking, or pierre noire,
Black Oaker, or the blacko marking-
stone. — Cotgrave. It can't mean soot

or mourning. — F.
2 A pack of cards.

Halliwell.— F.

404

£flu'u$ : IBteronuts : 1

[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 Eomance of Libius Disconius, as being one of
those mentioned by Chaucer, and either shorter or more intelli-
gible than the others he has quoted. 2 If an Epic Poem may be
defined, ' 3 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."

1 This Piece may be considered per- St. 224. — P.
haps as one of the first rude Attempts KB. 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. 15 [of MS.

[so] in the most essential Parts of Epic p. 441, 1. 706 here]. — P

Poetry. The Hero is one. The great 2 Men speken of Romaunces of Price,
action to w^ich everything 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. — Bel. iii. p. viii.

than the Time of Chaucer. See The 3 Vide "Discours sur la Poesie

Rhyme of Sir Thopas quoted below, Epique," prefixed to Telemaque. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS. 405

The Bishop then gives a sketch of each of the nine Parts of the
Romance, 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 Ga wain's bastard l ) 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

1 That story of rising from an obscure ever ignoble the woman, or however low

beginning 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

eiple of mediaeval sentiment, that noble had received from the father would in-

blood was never lost, (bastardy was con- evitably urge it onward till it readied

sidered no real stain;) and that if a its natural station. There are stories

knight, for instance, met with a woman illustrating this feeling 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 Ritson 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. Gribbs 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
Handlyng Synne. De Biauju's text may 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
Arthur. 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 Inconnu. He cannot drive from
his heart the recollection of the beautiful fairy of the lie d'Or.

408 LIBIITS DISCONIUS.

The description of this unconquerable passion occupies a large
space in the story of our 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. Giglain knows not at what point to stop. He dares not
return to the lie a" 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 GalJes set out alone. She
parts from him with the sadness of resignation, and he sets out for
the lie d'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
master 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 d'Or, a delightful garden which contains all of most perfect that
God has created upon earth, Giglain 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 Giglain 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 Giglain 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 Giglain in the castle of the Golden Isle become one
of the most interesting episodes of the Gerusalemme Liberata ? 1 It is

1 On La Dame d' 'Amove of the Cotton observes, v. ii. p. 263, " This lady bears
text (and ours, p. 470, 1. 1508), Eitson a strong resemblance to the no less

LIBIUS DISCOMUS. 409

a study which would require long unfoldings (developemeufx), 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 with 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 woman if, notwithstanding her tenderness for
le Bel Inconnic, 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 sufficiently punished. We
will 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 Galles 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 country. 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
prepared by King Arthur. At this news, Giglain hesitates not an
instant ; he forgets his love, to think only of glory. In vain does

magical than beauteous fains, the and Eogero in the manner la dame
Calypso of Homer, and the Aleina of d'amore here treats Lybeans."
Ariosto; both of whom detain'd Ulysses

VOL. II. E B

410 LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

tlie 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 justified by the desire of pleasing the noble lords for
whom they wrote, it would be difficult to find a tournament which
could sustain comparison with that of Valedoii. Walter Scott would
seem l 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 years 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
Renals de Biauju's own lady-love, for whom he composed the
poem — had the poor Englishman no sweetheart? — all about

1 As he died in 1832, and the French there is some difficulty in this semhlerait
Romance was not published till 1860, s'cn etrc inspire.

LllilUS DISCONIUS. 411

Robers, Lybius's squire, an important personage in the French
Eomance ; 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, tbe adapter introduces a fresh Part (IV.)
into the English text ; puts in tbe 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
with Sir William de la Braunch's (or Bliobleris's) three cousins,
putting it before, instead of after, the fight with the two giants
(p. 433-7, and p. 438-41), besides many minor variations. The
telling of the story varie3 all through ; but so far as I can judge,
the original French of De Biauju is a far better piece of work
than that of any of his adapters.

Of English MSS. of Lyblus I know only five: the Cotton
Caligula A ii., printed by Ritson and M. Hippeau ; the fragment
in the Lincoln's Inn MS. 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 ovvre 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 1 . which
I suppose to be of Berkshire origin, — if one may judge from

1 The d is substituted for th in the de, thee, 1. 673. On the other hand, th
following, among other instances: — ditr- is put for d, in wither, under, 1. 1039,
stede, thirsted, 1. 1336; durste, thirst,!. 1. 1002, 1. 1191; thoghtyer, doughtier,

1343; clodtde, clothed, 1. 1407; yclodeth
clothed, 1. 1776; dydyr, thither, 1. 1668
but thyder, 1. 2082 ; dare, there, 1. 1870

1. 1091 ; but dogkty, 1. 1578, and
thovghty, 1. 1851; thier, deer, 1. 1133;
ilurc, dearly, 1. 1158; thorcs, doors,

E K I

412 LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Mr. Tom Hughes's books, — or some county near. 1 The infini-
tive in y also shows that the text is Southern 2 : army, arm,
1. 2,16 ; justy, joust, 1. 909, 1. 951, but juste, 1. 1542 ; schewy,
show, 1. 746 ; spendy, spend, 1. 986, &o.

Grateful as I feel to M. Hippeau for his discovery and printing
of the French text, I owe him a slight grudge for describing
"l'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. 3 ; to say
nothing of other forms like pryue for ]?ryue, thrive; kepte for
lepte, 1. 2039; be for he, 1. 1388; thogh tyer for thoghtyer,
doughtier, 1. 1091 ; he for here, her, 1. 887 ; givych for swych,
such, 1. 712 ; Sweyn for Eweyn, 1. 219 ; lymest, for lyme &, lime
and, 1. 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, 4 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; tho, do, 1. 531, &c, and in many zewy?' but never, ' Wull ye zewy up

other places. I just copy the few that I thease zeam ? ' " — Barnes, p. 28.

noted years ago on a blank leaf, when 3 deutes for dentes, 1. 1304; fou for

reading part of M. Hippeau's edition. fon, foes, 1. 1530, 1. 1950; sauugh for

1 Probably Dorsetshire. I heard drow saun}, Fr. sans, without 1. 1860 [In bat

for throw near Weymouth this autumn, felde saunj fayle. MS. leaf 55, 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, " Th of the English sometimes, have, 1. 1263; woueth 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-

blaZer, a bladder, kc&er, a ladder." Mr. . nere for keuere, recover, 1. 1983; lencde

Hughes says he does not remember hear- for leuede, lived, 1. 2125.

ing this th and d change in Berkshire. 4 Claude Platin's confession, " mon ig-

' l " In the Dorset the verb takes y only norancc, laqitclle n'est pas petite" (pago

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 carelessness.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

413

its students. But to return from this 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., 1 and at the end of the Komance as

1 Lincoln's Inn MS. 150, Art. 1,
faded, begins.
ban sir libeus ran
bar Manges scheld lay,

Ami vp he con hit fange :
fast he ran to him,
And smot him wib mayn,

And other gon asa[ile.]
vnto beo day was dyme . .
Bysyde beo water

beo kynges heold bataile.
Libeus was warryour wy3t,
And 3af a strok of my3t

bowu'3 gepoiiH [?] plate and maile,
boru3 his schoklur bon,
bat his ry3t arm anon

feol in beo feld saunfaile.

MS. Lambeth 306, leaf 94, back.
Than lybeous ranne aw-waye
There Mangis shelde laye,

And vp he gan hit fange,
And ran a-gayne to hym.
With strokys sharpe and gryme

Eyther other ganne assayle.
Till the day was dyme,
Vpon the watir brym

By-twene hem was bataylle.
Lybeous was wevrcouv wight,
And smote a stroke of myght

Throwe Iepowne, plate, and mayle,
Thorowe the shulderbone,
That his Right Anno A-none [leaf 95J

Ffell in thefelde saunce fayle.

Ash mole MS.

Than lybeus ranne A-wey
There magws scheld ley,

And vp he gane it fonge ;
And libeus numc to hym A^ene, [leaf 52*]
And smote hym with meyne ;

Aythere ob</' gane A-seyle.
To be <hy was iymme,
Be-syde be water brymme

Cot. Calig. A. ii. leaf 50, col. 1.
ba«ne lybeauus ran away
bere \>at mangys scheld lay,

And vp he gan hyt fonge,
And Ran a-gayn to hym. rcol. 2]

With strokes strout & grym

To-gydere bey gowne a-sayle.
Be-syde b«t ryuere brym,
Tylle hyt derkede dym,

Be-twene hem was batayle.
Lybeauus was werroure wy3t,
And smot a strok of my3t

boru3 gypelle, plate, & may-lie,
Forb with be scholdere bon,
Mangys arm fylle of a-noon

Iii-to be feld sauii3 fayle.

Percy Folio, p. 337.
then S?r Lybius rann away
thither were Mangis sheild Lay ;

& vp he can itt gett,
& rail againe to him,
with stroakes great and grim

together they did assayle ;
there beside the watter brimne
till it vaxed wonderous drimn,

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 shoulder bone
his right arme soone and anon

into the ffeild with-out ffaile.

61, leaf 52.

The kny3htes held bateyle.
Syre libeus was weryoure wyjht,
And gauc strokes of my3ht

Throujht plate and male,
And throw his schulder bone,
That hys pyght Arme Anone

Fell in be feld \Wt//-outen feyle.

414 LIBIUS DISCOBIUS.

printed here, p. 497, will be found the endings of the Lincoln's
Inn, Cotton, Lambeth, and Ash mole tests, 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 Romance

was certainly printed before the year 1000, being mention'd by the
name of " Libbius," 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 Libius 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-heugh," writen, in
reality, by Robert Lambe, vicar of JSTorham, authour 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 (l'histoire de), fils de messire Gauvain, qui fut roi de Galles ;
et de Geoffroy de Mayence, son compaignon : translate d'espaignol en
francois par Claude Platin, Lyon, CI. Nourry, 1530, w-4. goth. fig.

This is, says M. Hippeau, a fairly correct reproduction of the

French Li Biaus Desconneus, " sauf quelques additions peu

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 tous ceulx qui prennent plaisir a lire et a ouyr lire les
livres des anciens, qui ont vescu si vertueusement en leur temps,

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

415

que la renomee en sera jusques a la fin du siecle, lesquelles ceuvres
vertueuses doivent esmouvoir les cueurs des humains de les ensuyvir
en vertus en haultz faitz, moi Frere Claude Platin, humble religieux
de l'ordre monseigneur sainct Antlioine, ung jour, en une petite
librairie ou j'estoye, trouvay un gros livre de parcliemin bien vieil,
escript en rime espaignole, assez diflicile a entendre, auquel trouvay
une petite hystoire laaqelle me sembla bien plaisante, qui parloit de
deux nobles chevaliers qui furent du temps du noble roi Artus et des
nobles chevaliers de la Table-Ronde. . . J'ay done voulu translater la
dicte hystoire de cette rime espaignole, en prose francoyse, au moins
mal que j'ay peu, 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 " ?

1 JESUS christ, Christen Kinge, 2
& his mother that sweete thing, 3

helpe them att their neede
that will listen to my tale !
of a knight I will you tell, 4
a doughtye man of deede,

Christ and
Mary

help my
hearers !

I'll tell you

1 The Romance in the Cotton MS.
Caligula A ii. begins thus :

INCIPIT LYBEAUS DISCONIUS.

^[ Ihc.su cryst oure sauyoure,

And hys modyr bat swete flowre,

Helpe hem at here nede
b«t harkenep of a co«querourc,
Wys of wytte, & why3t werrour,

And dou3ty man yn dede.

Hys name was called Geynleyn ;
Be-yete he was of syr Gaw< yn

Be a forest syde.
Of stoutere knyjt & profytable

With artoure of be Rounde table,
Ne herde ye neucr Rede.

^[ bys Gynleyn was fayrc of sy;t,
Gentylle of body, of face bry3t,

Alle bastard 3ef he were.
Hys modyr kepte hym yn clos
For douute of wykkede loos,

As dou3ty chyld & dere. — F.

2 oure sauyoure. — C.
s flowm— C.

4 brtt harkeneb of a co«queroure
wys of wytte & why3t werrowr. — C.

416

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

of Cinglaine,

bastard son
of Sir
Gawaine.

his name was cleped l Ginglaine ;
gotten lie was of Sir Gawaine

vnder a fforrest side ;
a better 2 knight without ffable, 3
W/th Arthur att the round table,

yee heard neuer of read.

[page 318]

His mother
tried to
prevent him
seeing a
knight,

because he
was savage.

Gingglaine was ffaire & bright, 4
an hardy e man and a wight, 5

bastard thoe hee were.
6 his mother kept him with all her might,
ffor he shold not of noe armed Knight

haue a sight in noe mannere.
but he was soe sauage,
& lightlye wold doe outrage

to his ffellowes in ffere. 6
his mother kept him close
ffor dread 7 of wicked losse,

as hend 8 child and deere.

His mother
called him
Beaufise
because he
was
handsome.

One day

ffor 9 hee was soe ffaire & wise, 10
his mother cleped him beufise, 11
& none other name ;
28 & himselfe was not soe wise 12
that hee asked not I-wis

what hee hight 13 of his dame,
soe itt beffell vpon a day
32 Gingglaine 14 went to play,

1 called.— C.

2 stoutere. — C.

3 & profitable. — C.

4 of syjt.— C.

5 Grentylle of body, of face bry3t. — C.
"—•J From his to ffere omitted in C. — F.

7 douute. — C.

8 dou^ty. — C.

9 [And] for, i.e. because. — P.

10 And foiv? loue of hys fayre vyys.
— O.

11 Beau- vise.— P. bewfis.— C.

12 was fulle nys. — C.

13 what he was called ; wh«t his Name
was. See St. 11. — P.

14 To wode be.— C.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

417

wild deere to hunt ffor game ;
& as he went ouer the Lay,
he spyed a knight was stout & gay,
36 that soone he made ffull tame. 1

he sees a
knight,
kills him,

then he did on 2 that K.nights weede,
& himselfe therin yeede, 3
into that rich armoure ;
40 & when he had done that deede,
to Glasenbury swithe 4 hee yeede,

there Lay J&Jmg Arthur.
& when be came into the hall
44 amonge the Lords and Ladyes all,
he grett 5 them with honore,
And said, " King Arthur, my Lord ! 6
suffer me to speake a word,
48 I pray you par amoure 7 :

puts on his
armour,
goes to
Glaston-
bury, to
King
Arthur,

and asks
Arthur

8 " 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, 9

to knight
him, as he's
fourteen,
and can
fight.

Arthur

The Cotton MS. reads :

He fond a kny3t, whare he lay,

In armes \>at were stout & gay,

I-sclayne & made fulle tame. — F.
b«t chyld dede of. — C.
And anon he gan hym sehrede. — C.
prompte, Jun. — P.
did greet. — P.

Mais cil li dist : " Ains m'escoutes.
Artu, venus 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."

LeBel Inconnu, 1. 82-9, p. 4.

7 par-amour, or perhaps pour 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.

8 This stanza is omitted in C. The
Lambeth MS. 306 has it.— F.

9 A-noon witAoute any dwellyng. — C.

418

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

asks him his
name.

Ginglaine
says he
doesn't
know,

but his
mother
calls him
Beaufise.

Arthur says
" by God it's
odd you

don't know
your own
name !

" tell me what tliou liiglit ] ;
for neuer sithe I was borne
sawe I neuer lieere beforne 2
CO noe child soe ffaire of sight."

the child said, " by St. lame, 3
I wott not 4 what is my name !
I am the more vnwise 5 ;
04 but when I dwelled att home, 6
my mother in her game
cleped mee beaufise."
then said 7 Arthur the K.ing,
68 & said, "this is a wonderous thing,
by god & by S l Denise,
that thou wold be a Knight,
& wott nott what thou hight,
72 & art soe ffaire and wise 8 !

I'll give you
one

that j'our
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 thius, 9
80 Lybius Disconius 10 ;
ffor the loue of mee
looke yee call him this name ;
both in ernest & in game,
84 certes, soe hight shall hee. 11 "

byn name aply3t. — C.
Ne fond y me be-fore. — C.
Cil li respont : "Certes ne sai,
Mais que tant dire vos en sai,
Que bidfil m'apieloit ma mere ;
Ne je ne sai se je oi pere."

Le Bel Inconnu, 1. 115-18, p. 5.
I not.— C. 5 nys.— C

liame, idem. — 3?. 7 spake. — F.

fayrcofvys. — C. 9 thus.— P.

10 lybeau desconus. — C. The French
has, p. fi :

" Et por ce qu'il ne se connuist,
Li Biaus Desconneus ait non !
Si l'nommeront tot mi baron."
Le beaux Desconus, i.e. the fair un-
known. — P.

11 )?an may ye wete a rowe
J3e fayre vnknowe
Sertes so hatte he. — C.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

419

'King Arthur anon-right
wtth a sword ffaire & bright, 1
truly e that same day
88 dubbed that Child a knight, 2
And gaue him armes bright 3 ;

fforsooth as I you say,
hee gaue to him in that ilke
92 a rich sheeld all ouer gilte
with a griffon soe gay, 4
& tooke him to Sir Gawaine 5
fFor to teach him on the plaine
96 of euery princes 6 play. 7

Then Arthur

knights

Lybius.

[page 319] gives him
arms

and a shield,

and asks
Gawaine to
teach him.

when hee was made a knight,
of the boone 8 he asked right, 9
& said, " my Lord soe ffree,
100 in my hart I wold be glad
the ffirst battell if I had

that men asked of thee."
then said Arthur the King,
104 "I grant thee thine askinge,

whatt battell that euer itt bee ;
but euer methinke thou art to young
ffor to doe a good 10 flighting,
108 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
young to
fight well.

when he had him thus told,
Dukes, Erles, and Barons bold, 11

1 Made hym bo a kny3t. — C.

2 And yaf hym amies bry3t. — C.

3 Hym gertte wit/* swerde of my3t.
-C.

4 gryffbun of say. — C.

s And hym be-tok hys fadyr gaweyn.
-C.

G ecke kny3tes. — C.
7 An a seems to have been blotted out

after tke y in the MS. — F.

8 Other boone, or another boone, or
One other D°. — P.

* Anon a bone \>cr he bad. — C.

10 thing, which follows, has been
marked out in the MS. — F.

11 With oute more resoun
Duk, Erl & baroun.— C.

420

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Then all
dine off wild
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 l and venison, 2
as lords of great renowne,

inouglie they had to eate.
they had not sitten not a stonre,
116 well the space of halfe an hower,
talking att their meate, 3
there came a damsell att that tyde, 4
& a dwarffe 5 by her side,
120 all sweating 6 ffor heate ;

the Maidens name was Hellen ;
sent shee was vnto the King, 7
a Ladyes messenger.
124 the maiden was ware & wise,

& cold doe her message att device, 8

shee was not to ffere 9 ;
the maid was ffaire & sheene,
128 shee was cladd all in greene 10 ;

& ffurred n with Blanndemere 12 ;

1 take y? heddes of [ = off] all felde
byrdes and wood byrdes, as fesande, pe-
cocke, partryche, woodcocke, and curlewe,
for they ete in theyrdegrees foule thynges,
as wormes, todes, and other suehe. Hoke
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.

2 Of alle manere fusoun. — C.

3 Ne hadde artoure bote a whyle
be mouHtaunce of a myle

At hys table y-sete. — C.

4 a mayde Ryde. — C.

5 dwerk.— C.

6 be-swette. — C.

' Gentylle bry3t & schene. — C.

8 i.e. Will, Pleasure. See Chaut
Gloss.— P.

9 \>er nas coratesse ne quene
So semelyche on to sene
tflt my3te be here pere. — C.

10 Sche was clodefj in tars
How me & nodyng skars. — C.

11 pelured. — C.

12 Blannchmer, a kind of fur.

He ware a cyrcote that was grene ;
With blaunchmer it was furred, I wene.
SyrDegore, 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
ScilJ the Blaundemere Purr mentioned
in his Romance &c. But after all per-
haps this construction is too forced.

N.B. It might be the other Version
w/iich Chaucer alludes to.

See Chaucer's Rhyme of Sir Thopas,
where this word seems to be mistaken,
viz. :

Men speken of Romaunces of Pris,

Of Hornechild and of Ipotis
Of Bevis & Sir Gie

Of Sir Libeaux and Blaindamoure

But Sir Thopas bereth the flowre
Of rich Chivalrie.— P.

* (or his)

LIBIUS 1) I SCON I US.

421

her saddle was ouergiltc,
& well bordered with silke, 1
132 & white 2 was her distere. 3

the dwarfe was cladd w/th scarlet t ffinc,
& ffured well with good 4 Ermme ; 5
stout he was & keene 6 ;
136 amonge all christen kind

such another might no man find 7 ;

his cercott 8 was of greene 9 ;
his haire was yellow as fliower on mold, 10
140 to his girdle hang n shining as gold, 12
the sooth to tell in veretye ;
all 13 his shoone with gold were dight,
all as gay as any u knight,
144 there sseemed no pouertye.

The dwarf

wears

scarlet,

is stout,

has long
yellow hair,

Teddelyne was his name, 15
wide sprang of him the fame, 16
East, west, North & south ;
148 much he cold of game & glee,

is named
Teddelyne,

1 Here sadelle & here brydelle yn fere
Fulle of dyamandys were. — C.

The author of the French Romance gives
a fuller description of Maid Hellen, or
He/ie as he calls her. Doubtless it is
his own love, for whom he composed the
Romance, whom he sketches.
Gente de cors et de vis biele :
Dun samit estoit bien vestue ;
Si biele riens ne fu veiie.
Face 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 phis biel cief feme del monde !
En son cief ot un cerclo d'or ;
Ses perles valent un tresor
Sor un palefroi cevaucoit. (p. 6.) — F.

2 Melk.— C.

3 apud Chauc. Destrcr, a War-horse, or

Led Horse. Vid. Gloss. — P.

4 One stroke too few in this word in
the MS.— F.

5 be dwerke was elodeb- yn ynde
Be-fore & ek be-hynde. — C.

6 pert.— C.

7 fimd in the MS.— F.

8 Surcoat — A gown & hood the same,
an upper coat, Ch. Gloss. — P.

9 was ouert. — C.

10 as ony wax. — C.
— F.

11 hung.— P. »

13 als, also.— P.

14 And kopeb as a.-

15 The French Romance doesn't name
him till he and Hellen leave the court,
and it calls him Tidogolains, 1. 256,
p. 10.— F. Teandelayn.— C.

16 MS. same.— F. fame.— P. welle
swyde sprung hys name. — C.

Not in the French,
henge J?c plex. — C.
-C.

422

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

is a pood
fiddler,

minstrel
and jester

a jolly man
with ladies.

ffiddle, crowde, 1 and sowtrye,

he was a merry man of month 2 ;
harpe, ribble 3 & sautrye,
152 he cold mnch of Minstrelsye,
he was a good Iestoure,
there was none snch in noe country ;
a lolly man fforsooth was hee
156 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 ! without Leasing

her lady, of
Sinadone,
is in distress,

and begs for
a knight to
fight for her.

Lybius at
once

" There is a strong case toward ;
] 64 there [is] none such, nor soe hard,
nor of soe much dolour.

my 4 Lady of Sinadone

is brought to strong prison,
168 that was of great valoure ;

shee prayes you of 5 a Knight

ffor to win her in flight

with ioy & much honor." 6
172 vp rose that younge Knight,

[page 320]

1 A kind of fiddle.— F.

2 Myche he coube of game,
vrith sytole sautyre yn same
harpe fydele & croupe. — C.

3 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 ribible a small
fiddle played by a bow, and not by hand
as the giterne was. Jerome of Moravia
says of the ribble, Eibible, or Ribibe :
— " Est autem rubeba musicum instru-
mentnm habens solum duas cordas sono
distantes a se per diapente, quod quidem,

sicut et viella, cum arcu tangitur." — W. C.
ribble, a fiddle or guitteru, Gl. Ch. — P.

4 MS. ny.— F.

5 of you. — P.

6 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 l'estordroit,

Et qui le Fieb Batsier feroit.

Mais pros que il li a mestier !

Onques n'ot tel a chevalier.

Ja mauvais horn lo don ne quiere ;

Tot en giroit en vers en biere ! " (p. 8.)

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

423

in his hart he was ffull light,
& said, " my Lord Arthur,

" my couenant is to haue that fight
176 ffor to winne that Lady bright,
if thou be true of word."
the King said without othe,
" thereof thou saiest soothe,
180 thereto I beare record ;

claims the

light.

Arthur
assigns it
to him.

"god thee giue strenght & might
ffor to winne that Ladye bright
with sheeld & with, speare dint ! "
184 then began the maid to say,
& said, " alas that ilke day
that I was hither sent ! "
shee said, " this word will spring wyde ;
188 Sir King, lost is all thy pride,
and all thy deeds is shent, 1
when thou sendest a child
that is wittlesse & wild,
192 to deale dough tilie with dint !
thou hast K.nights of mickle maine,
Sir Perciuall & Sir Gawaine,
ffull wise in Turnament."
196 tho 2 the dwarffe with great error 3
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
Gawaine &c.

Dwarf
Teddelyne

" this child to be a warryour,

200 or to doe such a Labor,

itt is not worth one ffarthing !
or 4 hee that Ladye may see,
hee shall haue battells 5 or three

204 truly e without any Leasinge ;

1 are shent, i. e. disgraced.

2 then.— P.

3 Errour course, running.

4 i.e. before. — P.

says the
chihl isn't

worth a
farthing.
He'll have to
tight five
battles
before
reaching
Sinadone ;

Halliwell.— F.

424

LIMITS DISCONIUS.

the first at
the Bridge
of Tcrils.

Lybius fays
he's not
afraid;

he can
fight,

and will
never give
in : such is
Arthur's
law.

Hellen
sneers at

Lybius,

and Tedde-
lyne tells
him

to go and
suck his
mammy.

Arthur says
" By God
you shall
have nobody
else."

" att the bridge of pcrill
beside the aduentnrous chappell,
there is the fiirst beginiag."
208 Sir Lybius anon answered
& said, " I was neuer affeard
ffor no mans threatninge !

" somewhat hane I lerd x
212 ffor to play with a swerd

there men hath beene slowe. 2
the man that ffleethe ffor a threat
other 3 by way or by streete,
216 I wold he were to- draw.
I will the battell vndertake ;
I ne will neuer fforsake,

ffor such is Arthurs La we."
220 the made 4 answered alsoe snell, 5
& said, " that beseemetb thee well !
who-soe looketh on thee may know

" thou ne durst for thy berde
224 abyid 6 the wind of my 7 swerde,
by ought that I can see ! "
then said that dwarffe in that stond,
" dead men that lyen on the ground,
228 of thee affrayd may bee ;
but betweene ernest & game,
I counsell thee goe souke 8 thy dame,
& Avinne there the degree."'
232 the K///;/ answered anon-right,

and said, " thou gettest noe other Knight,
by god that s'tteth in Trinytye !

1 lered, i.e. learned, see Ch. Gl. — P.

2 "Where — have heen slaw, Qu. — P.

3 i.e. either. So they still speak in
Shropshire. — P. Or is the contraction
of other. — F.

4 The Maid.— P.

s snel, i.e. presently, immediately.

see Gl. ad Ch. — P. Al soe is alsoe in
MS.— F.

6 abyde.— P.

7 perhaps any : or perhaps she tatuits
him, as not a Match for a Woman. — P.

8 souke, i.e. suck, Chauc. — P.

LiBroa DI8C0NIUS.

425

If thou thinke he bee not wight,
23C Goe J and gett thee another Knight [pag<
that is of more power."
the maid ffor ire still did thinke, 2
shee wold neither eate nor d[r]inke
240 ffor all that there were ;
shee sate still, without ffable,
till they had mcouered the table,
she and the dwarffe in ffere.
244 K.mg Arthur in that stond

comanded of the table round,
4 knights in ffere,

of the best that might be found
243 in armes hole 3 & sound,

to arme that child ffull right ;
& said " through the mi "hit o Christ
that in fflome 4 Iordan was baptiste,
252 he shold doe that he hight, 5
& become a Champyon
to the Lady of Sinadon,

& ffell her ffoemen in flight."
256 to arme him they were ffaine, G
Sir Perciuall & Sir Gawaine,
& arrayed him like a knight ;

Hell en gets

eat or
drink
anything,

nor will the
dwarf.

Arthur
orders

his four best
knights to

arm Lybius,

a- hell do

what he
says,

and be the
Lady of
Sinadone's
champion.

Lybius is
armed by
Percival,
Gawaine,

the 3? was Sir Agrauaine, 7
260 & the 4P> was Sir Ewaine, 8

Agravaine,
and Ewaine ;

1 The MS. curl to the G is like to.— F.

2 The French Romance makes her
leave the court at once in disgust, and
Lybius ride after her and overtake her,
p. lo, ll.— F.

3 whole. — P.

4 i.e. River; Ital. flume. — P.

5 i.e. promised, engaged. — P.
'• glad.— P.

7 Sue the note on him in vol. i. p. 145,
— V.

" Ewaine or Uwayn was the son of
Arthur's sister, Morgan le Fay, and had

TOL. ii.

a had opinion of his mother: " ' A,' sayd
syr Uwayn, 'men saitli that Merlyn was
of a deuylle, but I may save an
erthely deuylle bare me.'" This was
when he stopt " my lady" his " m
from killing "the kynge" Vryens, his
" fader, slepynge in his bed."' (
Maleor, i. p. 107. The Cotton MS. has :
The byrpi was syr Eweyn, [Oweyn,

below]
The ferule was syr agrrafrayn,
y]< pe Fren3S(£« talo. — F.

F F

426

LIBIUS DISCONIOS.

is clad in
silk,

264

them right ffor to behold,
they cast on him right good silke,
a sercote as white as any l milke

that was worth 20. of golde ;

and lias a
hauberk.

G-awaine

gives him a
shield
and helm.

Percival puts
on his
crown ;
Agravaine
brings him
a spear,

and Ewaine
a steed.

Lybius
mounts,

asks

alsoe an hawberke ffaire & bright,
w7w'ch was ffull richelye dight
with nayles good and ffine.
268 Str Gawaine, his owne ffather,
hange about his necke there

a sheeld with a griffon, 2
& a helme that was ffull rich,
272 in all the Land there was none such.
Sir Perciuall sett on his crowne,
Sir Agrauaine brought him a speare
that was good euery where
276 & of a ffell ffashion.

Sir Ewaine brought him a steade
that was good in euery neede,
& as ffeirce as any Lyon. 3
280 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
God

" giue me jour blessinge

284 without any Letting !

my will is fforth me to wend."
the ~K:lng his hand vpp did lifft,
& his blessing to him gaue right

288 as a ~K.night curteour 4 & hende,
& said, " god that is of might,
& his mother Marry bright,

1 One stroke too few in the MS.— F.

2 griffyne, qu. — P.

3 The French Romance only makes
G-awain order Lybius's armour to be

brought, and Gawain give him a squire
"Robers: moult esteit sages et apers,"
p. 11.— F.

4 1 for curteous. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

42 7

that is fflowre of all women,
292 giue thee gracce ffor to gone

ffor to gett the ouerhancl of thy fone,
& speed thee in thy iourney ! Amen !

will grant
him grace to
conquer bis
foes.

296

[The Second Part.]

S/r Lybius now ricleth on his way,
& soe did that ffaire may,

the dwarffe alsoe rode them beside,
till itt beffell vpon the 3? day
2'! parte. <( vpon the Knight all the way
ffast they gan to chide,
& said, "Lorell 1 and Caitiue !
tho thow were snch ffine,
Lost is all thy pride !
This way keepeth a Knight
that With enery man will flight,
his name springeth wyde ;

300

304

Lybius
starts with
Hell en and
tlie dwarf.

They begin

abusing him,

and say that
a knight
near,

"his name is William, de la Brannche, 2
308 his warres may noe man stannche, 3
he is a warryour of great pride ;
Both through hart & hanch
swithe 4 hee will thee Launche,
312 all that to him rides." 5
then said Sir Lybins,
" I will not Lett this nor thus
to play with him a flitt !
316 flbr any thing that may betide,
I will against him ryde

to looke if that he can sitt ! "

[page 322]

Sir William
de la
Brannche,

will soon
spear him
through.

Lybiu

whatever
happens he'll
ride at him.

1 Lewd base fellow, Homo perditus.
Lye.— P.

2 Wylloam Celebronche (leaf 44 b.)
here, and wylleam selebraunche, 1. 342,

(leaf 45, col. 1) Cotton MS.— F.

3 stop, stay, resist. — P.

4 soon. — P.

5 and all that — ride, qu. — P.

ff 2

428

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Near the
Adventurous
Chapel
they see a
knight
on the
Bridge of
Peril,

well armed.

the rode on then all 3 :
320 vpon a ffaire Causye.

beside the adnenturons chappell '
a knight anon they can see
with armes bright of blee,
324 vpon the bridge 2 of perrill.
he bare a sheeld all of greene
with 3 Lyons of gold sheene,
right rich and precyous.
328 well armed 3 was that K.night
as he shold goe to night,
as itt was his vse. 4

The knight
tells Lvbius

lie must
fight or
leave his
harness
there.

Lybius

begs leave to
pass.

when he saw Sir Lybius with sight,
332 anon he went to him arright,
& said to him there,
" who passeth here by day or night,
certer 5 with me must night,
336 or leaue his harnesse here."
then answered Sir Libyus
& said, " ffor the lone of Iesus
lett vs passe now here !
340 wee be ffarr ffroe our ffreind,
& haue ffarr ffor to wend,
T and this mayden in fere. 6 "

Sir William
refuses, and
says

he must
fight him.

Sir William answered thoe
344 & said, " thou shalt not scape soe
soe god giue me good rest,
thow & I will, or wee goe,
deale stroakes betweene vs tow
348 a litle here by west."

1 Kyght to chapell Auntours. — Lam-
beth MS. Be a castelle aunterous. — C.

2 Fr. le Gite Perilleus. — F. Poynt
pervious. — Lambeth MS. vale perylous.
— C.

3 arned in the MS.— F.

The French adds, p. 13, 1. 330-3 :

Maint chevalier font trouve dure,

Que il avoit ocis al gue ;

Moult etoit plains de cruaute,

Blioblieris avoit non.

certes. — P. 6 together. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Sir Libyus sayd, " now I see
that itt will none other bee ;
goe fforth and doe thy best ;
352 take thy course with thy shafft
if thou can l well thy crafft,
ffor I ame here all prest. 2 "

then noe longer they wold abyde,
356 but the one to the other gan ryde
with greatt randaun. 3
S^'r Libyus there in 4 that tyde
smote Sir william on his side
360 with a speare ffelon 5 ;

but Sir william sate soe ffast
that his stirropps all to-brast,
he leaned on his arsowne ;
364 Sir Lybius made him stoupe,

he smote him over the horse croupe
in the ffeeld a-downe ;

his horsse ran from him away.
368 Sir william 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], 6 I thee pray,
as thou art a Knight worthye."
376 then sayd Sir Lybius,

" by the leaue of Sweete Iesus
therto S'ull ready I am. 7 '

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.

1 con.— P.

2 i.e. ready. — P.

3 Ap? G. Doug, randoun. The swift
Course, Flight or Motion of any thing.
Fr. randon, idem. Gl. G.D. — P.

4 MS. therein.— F.

5 f el, felon, Jeloun, wicked, also cruel,
fierce. Gl. Chauc— P.

6 on [foot] I &c— P. a fote.— C.
on fote. — Lam.

7 am I.— P.

430

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

They do so

till the fire
flies from
their helms.

Sir William

cuts off a
corner of
Lybins's
shield.

Lybius

exits 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 together they went as tyte, 1
380 & with their swords they gan smite ;
they ffbught wonderous Longe ;
stroakes together they lett fflinge
that they flyer oat gan springe
384 from of their helmes strong,
but Sir wilh'am de 2 la braunche
to Sir Lybius gan he launche,
& smote on his sheild soe Sast
388 that one cantell 3 flell to the ground ;
& Sir Lybins att that sonde 4
in his hart was agast.

then Sir Lybins with all his might

392 defended him anon-right,

was 5 warryour wight & slye ;
coyfe G & crest downe right,
he made to ffly with great might,

396 of Sir Williams helme on hye ;

6 with the point of his sword
he cut of Sir williams berd,

and touched him flull nye.
400 Sir William smote Sir Lybius thoe

7 as that his sword brast in tow

8 ^7iat many men might see with eye.

then Sir Will iam began to crye
404 & sayd, " flbr the Loue of Marrye,
on liue let mee weelde !

itt were great villanye

flbr to make a Knight dye
408 weponlesse in the feeld."

[page 323]

1 quickly. — F.

2 MS. do.— F.

3 cantle, a Piece, a part. Gl. Ch.

4 Perhaps stounde, time, moment,
space. — P.

Sonde is message. — F.

D as, qu. — P. as. — C. and L.
6 coif-de-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-de-fer in contradistinction
to the chapelle-de-fer worn over the mail.
Planche, i. 94.— F.

7 That his, &c— P.

8 As men, &c. — P.

LIBIUS DISCOMUS.

431

412

then spake Sir Lybius

& sayd, " by the leaue of Iesus !

of lifie gettest thou no space l
but if thou wilt sweare anon,
or thou out of the ffellcl gone,

here before my fface,

Lybius
frrants it
him

on condition

" & on knees kneele downe,
41G & swere by my sword browne

that thou shalt to Arthur wend,
& say, ' Lord of great renowne !
I am in battell ouerthrowne ;
420 a knight me hither doth send
tbat men cleped thus,
Sir Lybius Disconius,

vnknowen knight and hend.' '
424 Sir wilh'am mett 2 him on his knee ;
& the othe there made hee,
& fforward gan he wend.

that he
swears to go
to Arthur

and say that
Lybius sends
him.

Sir William
swears,

thus depaHed all the rout.
428 Sir wilh'om to Arthurs court
he tooke the ready way ; 3
a sorry case there gan ffall:
3 knights 4 proude and tall
432 Sir wilh'am mett that day;
the 3 Knights all in ffere
where his ernes 5 sonnes deere,
stout they were and gay.

and starts
for Arthur's
court.

His three
cousins
meet him,

1 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.

3 The French Romance sends him home
•wounded, puts him to bed, and thoro he
sees the three knights. — F.

4 The French makes them only his

" compaignons," and him their " signor."

Their names are :

Elius li blans, sires des Aies,
Et li bons chevaliers de Graies
Et Willaume de Salebrant.
5 erne, Uncle. See Jun. eame. See

Gl. ad Chaue. &c. — P. A.-Sax. earn,

uncle. — F.

432

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

and ask him
who has
wounded
hirn.

" Sir Lybius
Disconius,

and he has
made me
swear

not to stop
till I get to
Arthur's
court,

and never to
bear arms
against
him."

His cousins
promise to
avenge him :

Lybius isn't
worth a flea;

436 when they saw So* willwm bleed,
& alway hanged downe his head,
they rode to him with great array,

& sr id, " Cozen will !
440 who hath done to yon this shame ?
& why bleedest thon soe long ? "
hee said, " Sirs, by St. lame !
one that is not to blame ;
444 a stont 'Knight & a stronge —
Sir Lybius disconius hee hight —
to ffell his enemyes in flight ;
he is not flarr to Learne ;
448 a dwarfe rydeth with him in fere
as he was his Squier ;

they ride away flull yarne. 1

" but one thing greeueth me sore,
452 that he hath made me sweare
on his sord soe bright,
that I shold neuer more,
till I come to King Arthur,
456 Stint by day nor night ;

and alsoe to him I ame yeelde
as ouercome into the ffeelde
by power of his might ;
460 nor against him ffor to beare
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 2 !

[page 324]

1 yerne, inter al. nimble, Ch. Gl. — P.

2 battayle.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUfc>.

433

472

goe fforth & keepe thine othe
though th oil 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.

theroff wist nothing that wight
476 Sir Lybius, that gentle Knight,
but rode a well good pace ;
he & that maiden bright
made together that night
480 game & great solace,
shee cryed him mercye
ffor shee had spoken him villanye ;

shee prayed him to fforgiue her that tyde ;
484 the dwarffe was their squier,
& serued them both in ffere
off all that they had need.

Lybius
rides on
with Hellen.

She begs his
pardon for
having
abused him.

on the morrow when itt was day,
488 fforthe the rode on their way
towards Sinadowne.
then they say x in their way
3 tonights stout and gay
492 came ryding ffrom Caerleon ;
to him they sayd anon-right, 2
" Traitor, turne againe and flight !
thou shalt lose thy renowne !
496 & 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 tho MS. lias a
w made over the y, or an e after it. — F.

2 The French puts the fight with these

three knights (p. 34) after that with the
two giants (p. 23).— F.

434

LIEIUS DISCONIUS

Lybius is
ready,

charges
the eldest,

Sir Baner,

and breaks
his thigh in
two.

Dwarf
Teddelyne
rides Bauer's
horse

to Hellen,

and she says
Lybius is a
good
champion.

Sir Lybius to them gan crye,
500 " ffor to ffiglit I am all ready e
against you all in-same. 1 ' :
a 2 prince proude of pride,
lie rode against them that tyde
504 with mirth sport and game,
the Eldest brother then beere
to Sir Lybius with a Spere,
Sir Baner was his name. 3
508 Sir Lybius rode att him anon
& brake in tow his thigh bone,
& lett him Lye there lame. 4

the Knight mercy gan crye
512 when Sir Lybius certainely
had smitten him downe.
the dwarffe that hight Teodline
tooke his horsse by the raine,
516 he lept into the arsoone 5 ;
he rode anon with that
vnto the mayd where shee sate
soe ffayre of ffashyon.
520 then laughed that Maiden bright,

& said, " fforssooth this young Knight
is a ffull good Champyon ! "

1 i. e. all together ; it seems a contrac-
tion of the Fr. ensemble. See G.D. Gl.
alsame, sub. verb, same.- — P.

2 As, q. — Pencil note.

3 "Willaumes vint a lui premiers, 1.
1052, p. 38. The French Eom. 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 quant i hom se combatoit,
N'avait garde que de celui
Qui faisoit la bataille a lui.
Or va li tens en febloiant
Et eis usages decaans,
Que XX et V en prendent un !
Cis afnires est si commun

Que tuit le tienent desormes ;
La force fait le plus adies,
Tos est mues en autre guise,
Mais dont estoit fois et francise,
Pities, proesse et cortoisie,
Et largesse sans vilonnie.
Or fait cascuns tot son pooir,
Tos entendent au decevoir. (p. 38.)

4 The French makes Lybius kill
Willaume (or Sir Baner) :

Mort le trebuce del ceval.

II ne li fera huimais mal ! (p. 40.)
Then Helin de Graies attacks Lybius,
and gets his right arm broken. — F.

5 Fr. Argon, a saddle bow, Per Meton.
Saddle.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

435

1 the 2 d . brother, he beheld
524 how is brother lay in the ffeild
& had lost strenght & might ;
he smote Sir Lybius in that tyde
on the sheeld with much pride,
528 with his spear e ffull right.
Sir Lybius away gan. beare
with his good speare

the helme of that knig-ht.
532 the youngest brother 2 then gan ride,
& hitt S/r Lybius in that tyde
as a man of much might,

The second
cousin

charges
Lybius.

Lybius
unhelms
[page 325] him.

The third
cousiu

& said to him then anon,
533 " Sir, thou art by St. Iohn
a ffell Champyowne ;
by god that sitteth in trinitye,
flight I will w/th thee,
540 I hope to beare thee downe." l
as warryour out of witt,
on Sir Lybius then hee hitt
with a ffell ffauchyon ;
544 soe stifflye his stroakes hee sett,
that through helme 3 & basenett 4
he carued Sir Lybius crowne.

says he
should

like to fight
Lybius,

and cnts
through

his helm and
bascinet
into his
head.

Sir Lybius was served in that stead
548 when hee ffelled 5 on his head

that the sword had drawen blood ;

Lybius

1—1 be myddelle brobrr com 3erne
Vp-on a stede sterne

Egre as lyoun.
Hym J>03te hys body wolde berne
But he my3t al so 3erne

Felle lybeaus a-doun. — C.

2 Sir Gramadone, the French calls
him, 1. 1122, p. 40.— F.

3 helmet or head-piece, Fr. D? Galea.
—P.

4 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 he felt on his lied.
The Cotton has :

Tho was ly-beaus agreede
Whan he felde on hedde. — F.

436

LIBIUS DISCONITJS.

waves his
sword,

says two
against one
isn't fair
(the second
cousin
having
joined in
again ?),

about his head the sword he waned, —
all that hee hitt, fforsoothe hee cleeued,
552 as warryour wight and good ; —
S*'r Lybius said s withe thoe,
" one to flight against 2
is nothing good."
556 ffast they hewed then on him
with stroakes great and grim ;
against l them he stifflye stood,

and cuts off
the second
cousin's
right arm.

The third
cousin

yields to
Lybius,

and cries
for mercy.

2 & through gods grace
560 he smote the eldest in that place
vpon the right arme thoe ;
hee hitt him soe in that place, —
to see itt was a wonderous case,-
564 his right arme ffell him ffroe. 2
the youngest saw that sight,
& thought hee had noe might
to flight against his ffoe ;
568 to S*r Lybius hee did vp-yeeld
his good Speare & sheeld ;
mercy he cryed him thoe. 3

Lybius

grants it

on condition
that he and
his two
brothers
go to Arthur,

anon Sir Lybius said, " nay,
572 thou shalt not passe this away —
by him that bought mankind —

but thou & thy brethren twayne

plight your trothes without Layine
576 that yee will to "King Arthur wende,

& say, ' Lord of great renowne !

in battaill wee be ouercome ;

1 'gainst. — P.

2 - 2 The Cotton text omits these lines,
and in the next ones makes hoth brothers
yield to Lybius. — F.

3 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 Knight vs liitlier hath send
580 ffor to yeeld thee tower & towune,
& to bee att thy bandowne 1
euermore wi'thouten end.'

and give np
their all to
him.

" & bnt if you will doe soe,
584 certes I will you sloe

as I am true Knight."
anon they sv^are to him thoe ;
that they wold to Arthur goe,
588 their trothes anon the plight.
S«'r Lybius & that ffaire May
rode fforth on the way

thither as they had hight ;
592 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
rides on with
Hellen.

On the third
day

they rode fforthe on west
596 into a wyde fforrest,

& might come to noe towne ;
the ne wist what way best,
ffor there they must needs rest,
600 & there they light a-downe.
amonge the greene eues 2
they made a lodge with, bower & leaues,
w/th swords bright and browne.
604 Sir Lybius & that maiden bright [page 326]
dwelled there all night, 3

that was soe ffaire of ffashyon.

they are
benighted in
a forest

and camp
out.

1 Fr. bandon, "A son bandon," i. e. at
his will and Pleasure. Gl. Gr. Doug. — P.

2 eaves. Metaph. from a house build-

ing.

The French picture is prettier:

Li Desconneus se dormoit
Sur l'erbe fresco u reposoit ;
Dales lui gist la damoisele,
Deseur son brae gist la pucele ;
Li uns dales l'autre dormoit,
Li lousignols sor els cantoit. (p.

23.)

438

LIMITS DISCONIUrf.

The dw.arf
keeps wuteli,

sees a great
fire,

wakes
Lybius,

and says
thi'V liutst be
off,

as he smells

roast meat.

then the dwarffe began to wake,
608 ffor noe tlieeues shold take

away their horsses w/th guile ;
then ffor ffearc he began to quake ;
a great ffyer hee saw make
612 ffrom them but a mile.

"arise," he said, " worthy Kmghi !
to horsse that wee were dight
ffor doubt of more peri 11 !
616 certes I heare a great bost l ;
alsoe I smell a savor of rost,
by god & by S*- Gyle ! "

Lybius

rides off,

and finds
two

giants,

a blaclc one
holding a
maid by the
bosom,

620

[The Third Part.]

-S/r Lybius was stout & gay,

& leapt vpon his palffrey,

& tooke his sheeld & speare
part.<; & rode fforth ffull ffast>

2 gyants hee ffound at Last,
[that] 2 strong & stout were.
The one was blacke as any sole, 3
the other as red as ffyerye cole,

& ffoule bothe they were,
the blacke Gyant held in his 4 arme
a ffaire mayd by the barme, 5

bright as rose on bryar 6 ;

624

628

1 burst, report, like the discharge of a
gun : It is still called bost in Shropsh.
—P.

2 Who.— P.

3 A.-S. sol, soil, filth, mire, dirt.
Bosworfch. Fr. souillcr, to sojde, slurrie,
durtie, smutch, beray, begrime. Cot-
grave. The Cotton stanza is :

pat on was Red & lojdyche,
And pat oper swart as pyche,

Grysly bopo of chere.
pat oon helde yn hys barme
A mayde j^-clepte yn hys arme,

As bry^t as blosle on brere. — F.

4 hus in the MS. with a dot.— F.
The French is :

Car uns gaians moult la pressoit,
A force baisier le voloit,
Mais cele ne 1' pooit soufrir,
Mais se voloit laissier morir.

5 Sinus, gremium. — P. A.-S. bearm,
the womb, lap, bosom. Bosworth. — F.
A mayde i-clypped in his barme. — L.

e brere, so in Chauc. — P. Bryar is
one of the words entered under care in
Levins's Manipulus or Rhyming Diction-
ary, p. 209, col. 1, ed. 1867.— F.

LIBICS DISCOXIUS.

439

the red Gyant ffull yarne

032 Bwythe about can turne

a wild bore on a spitt ;

ffaire the flyer gan berne.

the maid cryed ffull yerne,

C36 for men shold itt witt ;

shee said, " alas & euer away
that euer I abode this day
with 2 devills for to sitt !
C40 helpe, Mary that is soe mild,
for the loue of the l child,
that I be not fforgett ! "

Sir Lybius said, "by S* lame !
644 flbr 2 to bring that maid ffrom shame
itt were ffull great price ;
but flbr to fight with both in shame 3
it is no childs game,
048 they be soe grim and grise. 4 "
he tooke his course with his shaft
as a man that cold his crafft,
& he rode by right assise :
652 the blacke he smote all soe smart
through the liuer, long 5 & hart
that he might neue/- rise.

then filed that maiden sheene,
056 & thanked 6 Marye, heauens queene,
that succour had her sent.

then came mayd Ellen

& the dwarffe by-dene, 7
660 & by the hand her hent,

a red out-

roasting a
boar on a
spit.

The maid
cries out

for help.

Lybius says

it'snochild's
play to fight
both giant-?,

but he
charges the
black one,

and runs
him right
through the
heart.

The maid
flees;

Hellen takes
her

1 perhaps thy. — P.

2 for.— P. qu. M.S. ffea.— F.

3 in same, i. e. together, ensemble, Fr.

4 id. ae grisly, horrid, horrible .-

5 lung.— P.

-P.

6 d added by Percy. — F.

7 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

LIBIDS DISCONIUS.

into tlie
forest,

and she
prays for
Lybius's
safety.

The red
giant
hits at
Lybius with
the boar,

and knocks
his horse
down.

Lybius
fights with
his sword.

The giant
lays on
Lybius with
his spit,

covers him
with boar's
grease,

& went into the greaues, 1
& lodged them vnder the leaues
in a good entent ;
664 & shee besought Iesus
ffor to helpe Sir Lybius
that hee was not shent.

the red Gyant smote thore 2
668 att Sir Lybius with the bore

as a woolfe that were woode ;
his Dints he sett soe sore,
that Sir Lybius horsse therfore
672 downe to the ground yode. 3

then Sir Lybius with, ffeirce hart,
out of his saddle swythe he start
as spartle 4 doth out of fyer ;
676 feir[c]ely as any Lyon

he ffought with his ffawchyon
to quitt the Gyant his hyer.

5 the Gyants spitt sickerlye
680 was more then a cowle tree 6
that he rosted on the bore ;
He laid on Sir Lybius ffast,
all the while the spitt did last,
684 euer more and more.

the bore was soe hott then,

that on Sir Lybius the grease ran

[page 327]

1 i.e. Groves, Bushes. So in Chaue.
—P.

2 i. e. there, metrl gratia, so in Chauc.
—P.

3 went. — P. The French makes Lybius
kill the other giant first:

II . . fiert celui premieremant
Qui esforcoit 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 :

\>e blake geaunt he smote smert
porgh the lyuere, longe, & herte, '
Jwt neuer he my3te aryse. — F.

4 sparkle. — P. sparky 11. — L. sperk.
— C.

5 This stanza is not in C. or L. — F.

6 ? Phillipps's coul-staf: " Coul, a
kind of Tub, or Vessel with two Ears to
be carry'd between two Persons with a
Coul-staff." See Lambarde's Perambu-
lation, p. 367, and Strutt, ii. 201, says
Halliwell, under Cowlstaff. — F.

L1BIUS DISCONIUS.

441

right ffast tliore. 1
C88 the gyant was stiffe & stronge,
15 ffoote he was Longe ;

hee smote Sir Lybius ffull sore.

Euer still the gyant smote
692 att Sir Lybius, well I wott,
till the spitt brast in towe.
then as man that was wrath,
ffor a Trunchyon fforth he goth
696 to flight aga[i]nst his ffoe,
& with the End of that spitt
S/r Lybius sword 2 in 3 he hitt.

then was Sir Lybius wonderous woe.
700 or he againe his staffe vp caught,
Sir Lybius a stroke him rought
that his right arme ffell him ffroe.

the Gyant ffell to the ground,
704 & Sir Lybius in that stond
smote of his head thoe:
in a ffrench booke itt is ffound. 3
to the other he went in that stond, 4
708 & serued him right soe.

he tooke vp the heads then
& bare them to that ffaire maiden
that he had woone in flight.
712 the maid was glad & blythe,
& thanked god often sithe

that euer he was made a ~Kuight.

S/r Lybius said, " gentle dame,
710 tell me now what is jour name

and batters
him till

the spit
breaks.
Then he gets
a truncheon,

and splits
Lybius's
shield with
it,

but drops
his staff.
Lybius cuts
off his right
arm,

then his
head,

and gives
both heads
to the
maiden.

She

1 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.

3 Eenals de Biauju's text omits the
cut ling off of the right arm, but makes
Lybius split the giant's head to the
teeth.— F.

4 stound. — P.

442

LIBIUS DISCONIDS.

tells him
that her
father is

an earl,

Sir Arthore,

and her

name is
Violet.

& where that you were borne."
" Sir," she said, "by S! lame,
my ffather is of rich ffame,
720 & dwelleth here beforne ;
he is a Lord! of much might,
an Erie & a Noble Knight ;

his name is S[ir] Arthore,
724 & my name is Vylett, 1

that the Gyant had besett

for the Castle ore.

She was out
walking

when the
giant sprang
on her,

and would

have

destroyed

her,

had it not

been for

Lyblus.

Christ

reward him !

" as I went on my demeaning 2
728 to-night in the eueni[n]ge,
none euill then I thought ;
the gyant, wi'th-out leasing,
out of bush he gan spring,
732 & to the flyer me brought,
of him I had beene shent,
but that god me succour sent

that all this world hath wrought.
736 Sir K.night ! god yeeld thee thy meed,
ffbr vs that on the roode did bleed,
& with his blood vs bouo-ht ! "

They all ride
to

w/thout any more talking
740 to their horsses they gan spring, 3

1 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 nn vergier hivi mais entrai

Et por 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.) — P.

2 probably going a walking, demener,

the same as promener, qu. — P.
Yesterday yn the mornynge
Y wente on my playnge.

Cot. MS. in Eitson.
3 The French text makes them first
have a grand feast on the grass off the
giants' food. Squire Sobers distinguishes
himself as cook, seneschal, butler, mar-
shal, chamberlain, and squire, helped by
the dwarf, p. 32-34. Sobers is a most
useful personage all through the French
story. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

443

744

748

& rode fforth all in-same,
& told the Erie in euery thing 1
how he wan in flighting

his Daughter ffrom woe & shame,
then were these heads sent
vnto ~King Arthur ffor a present

With much mirth & game,
that in Arthurs court arose
of Sir Lybius great Losse 2

& a right good name.

Sir
Arthore's,

and Lybius
sends the
giants' heads
to King
Arthur.

752

756

760

4? parte,

3 the Erie, ffor that good deede,
gaue Sir Lybius for his meede

sheeld and armour bright,
& alsoe a noble steede
that was good in euerye need,

in trauayle & in flight.

[The Fourth Part,]

now Sir Lybius and his May
tooke their leaue, & rode their way
thither as they had hight. 4
r Then they saw in a parke [page 328]

a Castle stiffe & starke, 5

that was ffull maruelouslye dight ;

764

wrought itt was with lime & stone, —
such a one saw he neuer none, —
■ with towers stiffe & stout.

Sir Arthore
gives Lybius

and a noble
steed.

Lybius rides
on towards
the Waste
Land,

and sees a
castle

1 erl tydynge. — Cot.

2 lose, praise. — F.

3 The Cotton text has an extra stanza
here, in which Sir Arthore offers Lybius
his daughter Vyolette to wife, but the
offer is declined, leaf 47 b. MS., p. 30,
Ritson. The French has neither of the
stanzas. — F.

4 pey Byde forp alle pre

g a

Toward pe fayre cyte,

Kardeuyle fore sop hyt hj^t. — C.
Here follow in the French a page and
a quarter of what M. Hippeau terms
" Digression de l'Auteur : II sera fidele
a celle qu'il ne peut encore nommer
Jamie, mais qu'il appelle la moult ainu'i ."
The next adventure with Sir Gefferon,
or Part IV, is omitted. — F.
5 i. e. strong. — P.

4 11

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

which he
thinks very
strong.

Hellen tells
him that a
brave knight
lives there :

Sir Lybius said, " soe haue I blis !
worthy dwelling here itt is
768 to them that stood in doubt ! "
then laughed that Maiden bright,
& sayd, " here dwelleth a Knight,
the best that here is about.
772 who-soe will with him flight, —
be he Baron or be he knight,—
he maketh 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.

" soe well he loueth his Leman
776 that is soe ffaire a woman,
& a worthy in weede,
who-soe bringeth a ffairer then,
a ioly ffawcon as white as swan
780 he shall haue to his meede.
& if shee be not soe bright,
With Sir Gefferon he must flight ;
& if he may not speed,
784 l his [head] shall be ffrom him take,
& sett ffull hye vpon a stake,
truly e withouten dread.

" the sooth you may see and heere ;
788 there is on euery corner 2

a head or tow ffull right."
Sir Lybius sayd al soe soone,
" by god & by S* Iohn !
792 with Sir Gefferon will I flight,
& chalenge the lolly ffawcon,
& say that I haue one in the towne,
a lemman al soe 3 bright ;
796 & if hee will her see,
then I will bring 4 thee,
be itt day or by night." 5

1 his [head] shall.— P.

2 Percy has added an e at the end.

-F.
3 MS.

alsoe, and in line 790.— F. al

soe. — P

4 Only half the n in the MS.— F.

5 by day or night, or dele by. — P.

LII3IUS MSCOMUS.

445

the dwarffe sayd, "by Sweete Iesus !
800 gentle Sir Lybyus l Disconiys,

thou puttest thee in great perill.
Sir Giffron La fFrandeus, 2
in flighting he hath an vse
804 Knights ffor to beguile."

Sir Lybius answered and sware,
& said, " therof I haue no care !
by god & by S, Gyle,
808 I will see him in the fface
or I passe out of this place,
ffor all his subtulle wile ! '

The dwarf
warns him

of Gefferon's
wiles.

Lybius
doesn't care
for 'em ; he
will fight.

without any more questyon
812 the 3 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 4 withouten Lease.
he armed him ffull sure
in the sayd Armor

that ~K.ing Arthurs 5 was,
820 & his horsse began he to stryde ;
the dwarffe rod by his syde
to that strong palace.

Sir Gyffron la ffrandeus
824 rose vp, as itt was his vse,
in the morrow tyde

flbr to honor sweete Iesus.

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,

1 There is a stroke too many after the
u in the MS.— F.

2 Syr Gyffroim le flowdous. — Cot.
3 they.— P.

* MS. certer.- F.

5 erl autores. — Cot., which must be
right. — F. sir Arthores, or Knigki A;--
tkoves. — P.

446

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

and asks why
he comes.

832

ffast he rode into that place.

Sir Ieffron maruailed att that 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
Ly bitis ;

" you have
no such fair
maiden as I
have ;

give me
your falcon
for King
Arthur.

Sir Lybius said al soe * tyte,
836 " certes I haue greate delight
with thee ffor to flight !
thou hast [said] great despite ; 2
thou hast a Leman, 3 none so Avhyte
840 by day or by night

as I haue one in the towne,
ffairer of ffashyon
for to see with sight.
844 therfore thy lolly ffawcowne,

to ~K.ing 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."

Sir Geffron said al soe right,
848 " where shall wee see that sight,
whether the ffairer bee ? "
Sir Lybius said, " wee will ffull right
in Cardigan see that sight, 4
852 there all men may itt see ;
in the middes of that Markett,
there shall they both be sett
to looke on them soe ffree 5 ;
856 & if my Leman be browne,
ffor thy lolly ffawcowne
iust I will with thee."

1 MS. alsoe, and in 1. 847.— F.

2 Thou seyste a foule dispite. — Lam.

3 Lennan in the MS. — F.

4 In Cardeuyle cyte ryjt. — Cot.
s bothe bond & fre.— Cot.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

447

Sir Geffron said alsoe then,
860 " I wold ffaine as any man
to-day att yondertyde. 1
all this I grant thee well,
& out of this Castell
864 to Cardigan 2 I will ryde."
their gloues were there vp yold,
that fforward 3 to hold,
as princes proud in pryde.
868 Sir Lybius wold no longer blinn, 4
but rode againe to his inn
& wold no longer abyde.

Gefferon
agrees.

Lybius rides
back, and

he said to maid Ellen
872 that was soe bright & sheene,

" looke thou make thee bowne !
I thee say, by S' Quintin,
St'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,
wtth Str Geffron I shall flight
to winn ft the Iollye ffawcowne."

the dwarffe answered, " for-thy 5
884 that thou doest a deed hardye 6
ffor any man borne,
thou wilt doe by no mans read

tells Hellen
to get ready,

as she is to
be shown
against
Gefferon's
love.

The dwarf
tells him it's
a foolhardy
business ;

1 forte ondertyde. — P. f>ys day at
vnderne tyde.— C. This daye at vnder-
tide.— L.

2 Karlof.— Cot. Kardyle.— Lam.

3 A.-S. forewcard, agreement. — F.

4 blim in the MS.— F.

5 for thy, therefore, according to Gl.
Ch. & G.D., here it should seem to be
forthwith. — P. Cot. omits this stanza.

The Lambeth MS. has :

The Dwerff answerd and seid,
" Thow doste a savage dede !

ffor any man i-borne
Tow wilt not do by Kede,
But faryst with thi madd hedo
As lorde that will be lorne."
hardye, qu. — P. MS. not clear.-

448

LI BUS DISCONIUS.

he'd better
go on his

way.

Lybius won't

hear of this.

for thou fforesi in thy child head
888 as a man that wold be lorne !
& therlbre I thee pray
to wend ffortli on thy way,
& come not him beforne."
892 Sir Lybius said, '* that were greaf shame !
I had leuer w/th great grame '
w/th wild horsses to be torue."

Hellen
decks herself

with a violet
mantle,

and precious
stones.

maid Ellen, ffaire and free,
896 made hast sickerlye
ber ffor to attvre
in Keicheys 2 that were white.
for to doe all his delight,
900 w/th good 3 gold wyer.

a vyolett mantle, the sooth to say,
ffurred well with gryse gay, 4
shee cast about ber Lyer 5 ;
904 the stones sbee had about her mold
were precyous & sett w/th gold, 6
the best in tliat shire.

and rides on
a palfrey

to Cardigan
market.

S/r Lybius sett that ifaire May
908 on 7 a right good 8 Palffrey,
& rode ffortb all three.

euery man to other gan say,

" heere cometh a ffaire May,
912 And louelye ffor to see ! ' :

into the Markett bee rode,

& boldly there abode

[page 330]

1 i.e. grief, sorrow; vexation, anger;
madness : trouble, affliction, Gl. ad
Chauc— P.

2 Kercheffs, qu. — P. keuechers. — C.
kerehevys. — L.

3 arayde vryth. — Cot.

4 Pelxired vrith grys & gray. — Cot.

5 swyre (neck). — Cot.

6 A sercle vp-on here molde,
Of stones & of golde. — Cot.

Mold, the suture of the skull; form,
fashion, appearance. — Hallrwell.

7 om, or ? one, in the MS. — F.

8 Vp-on a pomely. — Cot.

LIBIt's DISCOMUl

449

in the middes 1 of that cir.
9 : 6 anon the saw Geffron come ryde,
a 2 gqniera bv his side.
<fe na more meanve 2 :

comes

he bare a sheelde of greene,
020 richelye itt was to be seene 3 :
of gold was the bordnre,
dight itt was w/th mow-; -
<fc alsoe w/'th rich colon: -.
924 like as itt 4 were an Emperour.
the 5 squiers did w<th him ryde ;
the one bare by his side
shafts g -toure. 6

928 the other bare, his head vpon,
a gentle lolly ffawcon "
that was laid to wager ;

-. two

squires

(one bearing

& after did a Ladv rrde,
932 ffaire & bright, of Much pryde,
cladd in purple pall.
the people came ffarr &. wyde
to see that Ladye in that ty 1
936 how gentle 9 shee was and small ;
her mantle was of purple nine,
well ffurred wrth good Armine,
itt was rich and royall ;
940 a sercotte sett about her necke soe sweete
w«'th dyamond & w/th Margarett,
<k many a rich Emerall ;

and his fair
ladv.

clad is

purple,

rcoar.

:th
diamonds,

-
and
emeralds ;

1 niddes in the MS.— F.

2 attendants. — P.

3 He bare be sehelde of gotdes,
Of syluer thre -whyte oules. — C.
He bare the shelde gowlys,

Off svluer three -white owlys. — L.

4 hee.— P.
3 two.— P.

a Idem ac rassus Lve.

—P.

7 I vroc.Id. read Ier-faueon. a
[1. 977] below. — P. gerfawcone. — C.

To se here bak fie syde. — Cot.
(which has many variations in the follow-
ing lines). — F.

9 forte, gimp. — P.

450

LIB1US DISCONIUS.

her hue
rose-red,

her hair
golden,

her brows
like silk,

her eyes
grey.

The lookers-
on

her colour was as the rose red ;
944 her haire that was on her head,
as gold wyer itt shone bright ;
her hrowes were al soe ' silke spread,
ffaire bent in lenght & bread ;
948 her nose was ffaire and right ;
her eyen gray as any glasse ;
milke white was her fface.
the said that sawe that sight,
952 her body gentle and small,
' her beauty e ffor to tell all,
noe man with tounge might.'

put two

chairs for
the ladies,

and decide
that

Gefferon's
is the fairer.

Hellen is
only fit to be
her laundry-
maid.

unto the Markett men gan bring
956 2 Chaires ffor to sitt in,

their bewtye ffor to descrye.
then said both old & younge, —
fforssooth without Leasing
960 betweene them was -partje, — 2
Geffrons Leman was ffaire & cleere
as euer was any rose on bryer, 3
fforsooth without Lye.
964 Maid Ellen, the Messenger,

seemed to her but a Launderer 4
in her nurserye.

Lybius then
challenges
Gefferon to
fight.

then said Sir Geffron la ffraudeus, 5
968 "Sir Knight, by Sweet Iesus,

thy head thou hast fforlore 6 ! "
" nay ! " said Sir Lybius,
" that was neuer my vse !
972 iust I will therfore :

1 MS. alsoe.— F.

2 This Line in a Parenthesis. — P.

3 brere. — P. There is no short stroke
to the y in the MS. — P.

4 i. e. Launderess, Laundress. — P.

le fludous. — Cot.

lost.— P. The Cotton MS. reads
Syr lybeaus Deseonus,
bys liauk bou hast for-lore.

LIBIUS DISCOMUS.

451

976

" & if thou beare me downe,
take my head on thy ffawchyon,

& home with thee itt lead ;
& if I beare downe tbee,
the Ierffaucon shall goe with mee

maugre thy head indeed.

" what needeth vs more to chyde ?
930 but into the saddle let vs glyde,
to proue our mastery."
either smote on others sheeld the while They charge
With crownackles l that were of Steele,
984 with great envye.

then their speares brake assunder ;
the dints ffarecl as the thunder
that cometh out of the skye.
988 trumpetts & tabours,

herawdyes & good desoures, 2

Their stroakes ffor to 3 descrye. [ pa ge33i]

and their
spears break.

Geffron then began to speake :
99 2 "bring me a spere that will not breke,
a shaft with one crown all !
ffor this young ffeley ffreke
sitteth in his saddle steke 4
996 as stone in Castle wall.
I shall make him to stoope
swithe ouer his saddle croope,
& giue him a great ffall,
1000 tho he were as wight a warryour
as Alexander or Arthur,

Str Lancelott or Sir Perciuall."

Gefferon
calls for a
spear tbatj
won't break,

and he'll
soon unhorse
Lybius I

1 coronals. — Cot. Coronet, the upper
part of a jousting-lance, constructed to
unhorse, but not to wound, 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 ^e spears.
—P.

2 disours, tellers, narrafers. — F.

3 gon. — Cot.

4 steke for stuck, rhithmi gratia. — P.

452

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

They charge
again.

Gefferon
loses his
shield.

then the Knights both tow
1004 rode together swithe thoe
w/th great ren[d]owne ' :
Sir Lybius smote Sir Geffron soe
that his sheild ffeil him ffroe
1003 into the ffeeld againe. 2

then laughed all that was there,
& said without more,
Duke, Erie, or Barron,
1012 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,

another course gan the ryde :
1016 Sir Geffron was aggreeued that tyde
ffor hee might not speede.
he rode againe al soe 3 tyte,
& Sir Lybius he gan 4 smite
1020 as a doughtye man of deed.

Lybius

breaks

Gefferon's

back,

and wins his
falcon.

Sir Lybius smote him soe ffast
that Sir Geffron soone he cast
him and his horsse a-downe ;
1024 Sir Ieffrons backe bone he brake
that the ffolkes hard itt cracke ;

lost was his renowne.
then they all said, lesse & more,
1028 that Sir Geffrons had Lore
the white Gerffawcon. 5
the people came Sir Lybius before,
& went with him, lesse & more,
1032 anon into the towne ;

1 With welle greet Kaundoun. — Cot.

2 I would read adowne. see below, st.
45. — P. a-doun. — Cot. a-downe. — L.

3 MS. alsoe.— F.

4 MS. gam.— F.

5 Only half the w in the MS.— F.

LIBIDS DISCONIUS.

453

1036

& Sir Geffron fFrom the ffeeld
was borne home on his sheild

with care and ruefFull mone.
the Gerffawcon sent was,
by a knight thai hight Chandas, 1

to bring to Arthur with the crowne ;

G-efferon is

curried

home.

The falcon
is sent by
Chaudas

& rote 2 to him all that dead, 3
1040 & with him he gan to leade

the ffawcon that Sir Lybius wan.
when the ~King had heard itt read,
he said to his knighia in that stead,
1044 " Sir Lybius well warr can !

he hath me sent with honor
that he hath done battells 4
since that he began ;
1048 I will him send of my treasure,
ffor to spend to his honor,
as ffalleth 4 ffor such a man."

to King
Arthur,

who praises
Lybius,

a 100 1 ! ready 5 prest
1052 of flioryins to spend with the best,
he sent to Cardigan towne.
then Sir Lybius held a feast
that lasted 40 dayes att Least
1056 with Lords of renowne. 6
& att the 6: weeke end
hee tooke his leaue, ffor to wend,
of duke, Erie, and Barron.

and sends
him to
Cardigan
£KiO of
florins,
with which
Lybius
makes a
forty days'
feast,

and then
takes his
leave.

1 There was one Chandos a herald,
whose book is preserved in Wora
College Library, Oxon. — P.

2 He wrote, sic legerim. — P.
" deed.— P.

4 fitteth, qu.— P.

5 ready, speedy. — P.

6 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 days.
(MS. leaf 49, col. 2 ; ed. Eitson, p. 42).
— F.

454

LIBIUS DISCONIDS.

[Tlie Fifth Part.]

[The Adventure of the Hound, and the Fight with Sir Otes de Lilo.]

Lybius rides
on

towards
Sinadon.

He hoars a
horn,

and the
dwarf says
it's

1060

5! parte

1064

1068

Sir Lybius and his fiaire May
rode fforth on their way

towards Sinadon.
then as they rod in a throwe, 1
<( homes heard they lowd blowe,

& hoinds 2 of great game,
the dwarffe said in that throwe, 3
" that home I well know

many yeeres agone ;

Sir Otes de
Lile's.

1072

" Thatt home bloweth Sir Ortes de lile,
That serued 4 my Ladye a while

seemly e in her hall ;
& when shee was taken with guile,
he filed from that perill

west into worrall. 5 "

[page 332]

Then they
see a
beautiful
hound

but as they rode talking,
1076 they saw a ratch 6 runinge
ouer thwart the way.
then said both old & young,
" ffrom the fiirst begining
1080 they saw neuer none soe gay.'

1 a short space, sed vid. infra, perhaps
in a row. — P. A.-S. \>rah, a space, time.
— F.

2 hounds. — P.

3 a cast, a stroke. It. short space,
Chauc. GL— P.

4 seruede. — Cot.

5 Wyrhale.— Cot,

6 Patches. Genus Canum : Braceones,
Lye. Jun. — P. A.-S. race, 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 Midsummer & May.
1084 the Mayd sayd al soe l soone,

" soe faire a ratch I neuer saw none,
nor pleasanter to my pay 2 !

of all sorts
of colours.

Hellen
wishes sh,:;
lalit.

" wold to God that I him ought 3 ! "
1088 Sir Lybius anon him caught,
& gaue him to maid Elen. 4
they rode fforth all rightes,
& told of flighting with Knights
1092 flbr ladyes bright & sheene.
they had rydden but a while,
not the space of [a] Mile
into that flbrrest green e ;
1096 then they saw a hind sterke, 5
& 2 grayhounds that were like
the ratch that I of meane.

So Lybius
catches it
and gives it
her.

Soon tV.ey

see a stag
followed by
two grey-
hounds,

the hunted 6 still vnder the Lind 7
1100 to see the course of that hind
vnder the flbrrest side,
there beside dwelled that ~K.night
that Sir Otes de lile hight,
1 104 a man of much pride ;
he was cladd all in Inde, 8
& flast pursued after the hind

and stop to
watch her.

Sir Otes de
Lile

1 MS. alsoe.-F.

2 satisfaction, liking. — P.

3 owned, possest. — P.

4 The French text makes the hound
stop with a thorn in its foot; Hellen
takes it out, rides off w r ith 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 If Orguillous
de la Lande, rides off for his armour, and

fights Lybius. — F.

5 stout Hind. — P.

6 hovede (stopt). — Cot.

7 Properly a Teil or Lime trep, hut
in these ballads it seems to be used for
Trees in general. — P.

8 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,

sees Lybius
and Hellen,

and

remonstrates
with 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 ;

vpon a bay distere ;
1 1 OS loude lie gan his liorne blow,
for the hunters shold itt know,
& know where he were.

as he rode by that woode right,
1112 there he saw that younge Knight
& alsoe that ffaire May ;
the}' dwarffe rode by his side.
Sir Otes bade they shold abyde,
1116 they Ledd 1 his ratch away :

" ffreinds," he said, " why doe you soe ?
let my ratch ffrom you goe ;
good for you itt were.
1120 I say to you without Lye,
this ratch has beene my
all out this 7 yeere."

Sir Lybius said anon tho,
1124 "I tooke him with my hands 2,
& with me shall he abyde ;
I gaue him to this maid hend 2
that with, me dothe wend
1128 riding by my side."

then said Sir Otes de lile,
" thou puttest thee in great perill
to be slaine, if thou abide."
1132 Sir Lybius said in that while,

" I giue right nought of thy wile,
churle ! tho thou chyde."

then spake Sir Otes de lile,
1136 & said, "thy words be vile !

churle was neuer my name !

I say to thee without ffayle,

the countesse of Carlile
1140 certes was my dame ;

The last d has a tag to it.— F. 2 gentle, kind.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

457

" & if I were armed now
as well as art thou,

wee wold flight in-same.
1144 or thou my ratch from me reue, 1
we wold play, ere itt were eue,
a wonderous strong game."
Sir Lybius said al soe 2 prest,
1148 " goe fforth & doe thy best ;

Thy ratch with mee shall wend." [page 333]
they rode on right 3 west
througe a deepe flbrrest,
1152 then as the dwarfle them kend. 4

if he were
armed, he
would fight
him.

Lybius says
" Do your

best,"

aud rides on.

Sir Otes de lile in that stower
rode home into his Tower,
& flbr his ffreinds sent,
1156 & told them anon- rights

how one of Arthurs K.nights

shamely had him shent,
& had his ratch e away Inome. 5
1160 then the sayd all and some, 6

that " theese shall soone be tane ;
& neuer home shall hee come
tho he were as grim a groome
1164 as euer was Sir Gawaine." 7

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 8 and gysarmes, 9
as they wold warr on take ;
1168 Knights and squiers

They and
their friends
arm,

1 bereave, take away. — P.

2 alsoe, MS.— F.

3 th is crossed out between t and w.
— F.

4 taught, made known. Gl. Ch. — P.

5 y-nome, taken. Sax. niman, to Uikc,
hinc nim. 'Lye. — P.

6 sone in MS.— F.

7 f>aii3 he were bojtyere gome

Than Lauwcelot du lake.— Cot.
M. Hippeau prints "thogh tyer," which
doesn't look muchlike "doughtier " at first.
MS. is clear, leaf 50, col. 2, 1. 5.— F.

8 gleave, a sword, cutlace, Fr. glaive.
— P. swerdes. — Cot.

9 gysarme, a halbort or Bill. Sk. — P.

VOL. II.

II H

458

mount,

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

leapt on their disteres
ffor their Lords sake.

see Lybins,

and say
they'll kill
him.

Lybius

advises
Hellen

vpon a hill trulye
1172 Sir Lybius they can espye,
ryding a well good pace,
to him gan they loud crye,
& said, " thou shalt dye
1176 ffor thy great trespas ! ' :
Sir Lybius againe beheld
how ffull was the ffeild,

for many people there was ;
1180 he said to Maid Ellen,
" ffor this ratch I weene

to vs commeth a carefull case.

to hide in
the forest.

He will
abide the
battle.

Lybius's foes

five at him
with bows

and wound
him.

He rides
down men
and horses,

" I rede that yee withdraw
1184 yonder into the woods wawe, 1
jour heads for to hyde ;
ffor here vpon this plahie,
tho I shold be slaine,
1188 the battell I will abyde."
into the fforrest the rode ;
and Sir Lybius there abode
of him what may betyde.
1192 then the smote at him with crossebowes,
with speare, & with bowes turkoys, 2
that made him wounds wyde.

Sir Lybius with his horsse ran,
1196 & bare downe horsse and man ;

1 vro&e schawe. — Cot. wawe is used
in Chaucer for a wave, but that can
hardly be the sense here. — P. ? Waw,
wall. Jamieson. — F.

2 i. e. longbowes. Fr. Turquois,

Turkish, such as the Turks use. Grl. ad
CD.— P. See Strutt, p. 66, ed. 1830.
— F.

With bowe and with arblaste
To hym they schote faste. — Cot.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

459

1200

ffor nothing wold he spare,
euery man said then
that hee was the ffeend Sathan

that wold mankind fforfare l ;

like Satan,

1204

ffor he that Sir Lybius ranght,
his death wound there he caught,

& smote them downe by-deene.
but anon he was besett,
as a ffish in a nett,

with groomes 2 ffell and keene ;

but is beset

for 12 K.nights verelye
1208 he saw come ryding redylye
in armes ffaire & bright ;
all the day they had rest,
for the thought in the fforrest
1212 to see Sir Lybius that Knight,
in a sweate they were all 12, —
one was the hord himselfe

in they 3 ryme to read right : —
1216 they smote att him all att once,

ffor they thought to breake his bones
& ffell him downe in flight.

by twelve
knights

who have
waited for
him,

and all

attack him
at once.

ffast together can the ding ;
1220 & round they stroakes he gan fflinge
among them all in fere ;

fforsooth without Leasing

the sparkells out gan springe
1224 of sheeld and harnesse 4 cleere.

Sir Lybius slew of them 3,

& 4 away gan fllee

Lybius

kills three
of them ;
four flee.

1 perdere, perire.
Lye.-P.

2 men. — P.

A.-S. forfaran.

the.— P. There is nothing of this

incident in the French. — F.
4 Only half the n in the MS

h h 2

460

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Sir Otos and
his four sons

And wold not come him nero
1228 the horcl abode in that stoure,
& soe did his sonnes 4,
to sell their liues deere.

fp.ige 334]

strike at
Lybius.

Jlis blood
flows,

his sword
breaks,

Sir Otcs cuts
into his
head,

then they gaue l stroakes riue, 2
1232 he one against them 5,

& ffonght as they were wood,
nye downe they gan him bring ;
as the water of a Spring
1236 of him ran the bloode ;

his sword brake by the hilte ;
then was he neere spilt ;
he was ffull madd of moode.
1240 the horcl a stroake on him sett
through helme and Basnett,
in the skull itt stoode.

and he

swoons ;

but soon
he revives,

seizes his
axe,

then in a swoone he lowted lowe ;
1244 he leaned on his saddle bow

as a man that was nye slake ;
his 4 sonnes were all a bowne 3
ffor to perish 4 his Acton, 5
1248 double Maile and plate ;
but as he gan to smart,
againe he plucked vp 6 Lis hart,
as the Kinde 7 of his estate ;
1 252 & soone he hent in his ffist

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,

1 gan.— P.

2 rive, To thrust, stab, to rend, &c.
Gl. ad Ch.— P. ? rife, all about.— F.

3 ready. — P.

4 peree. — Cot. persyne. — Lam. MS.

5 Fr. Hocqueton
Vp he pullede.

-P.

Cot. (leaf 50, back,
col. 2.) He pulled vp. —Lam.

7 Pour strokes for in in the MS. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

461

he slew att stroakes 3.
& when the ~Lord saw the flight,
of his horsse a-downe gan light, 1
1260 away hee ffast gan fflee.

Sir Lybius noe longer abode,
but after him ffast he rode,
& vnder a chest of tree 2
1264 there he had him killed ;
but the hord him yeelded
att his will ffor to bee,

Sir Otcs
flees;

Lybius
catches him,

and Sir Otes
yields up
himself

& ffor to yeeld him his stent, 3
1268 treasure, Land, and rent,
Castle, hall, & tower.
Sir Lybius consented therto
in 4 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 with knights fiiueteene

was ffeitched into the Castle,
shee & the dwarffe by-deene
told of his deeds Keene,
1284 & how that itt befell
that hee had presents 5 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.

1 And on hys courser tyjt. — Cot.

2 a chesten tree, i. e. a Chesnut Tree.
Sic legerim. vid. Grl. ad Chauc. — P.
chesteyn. — Cot. chesteyne. — Lam.

3 his stint, apud Salopicnscs, signifies

his measure, his quantity, his share.
— P. be sertayne extante. — Cot.

4 MS. him.— P. in.— Cot.

5 presentes. — Cot. persones. — Lam.

462

LIBIUS DISCOMUS.

Lybius

recovers
from his
wounds

and rides on

towards

Sinadon.

Sir Otes goes
to Arthur,

and tells him
how Lybius
beat him.

that he had woone ffull well.
1288 the Lore? was glad & blythe,
& thanked god often sithe,
& alsoe S* Michall, 1

that such a noble Knight
1292 shold ffor that Ladye flight

that was soe flaire and flree.

in the towne dwelled a Knight :

att the ffull ffortnight
1296 Sir Lybyus 2 there gan bee,

& did heale him of his wounds
bothe hole and sound
by the 6 weekes end.
1300 then S/r Lybius and his May
rode ffbrthe on their way,

to Sinadon to wend ;
and alsoe the Lord of that tower
1304 went vnto King Arthur,

& prisoner him did yeeld,
& told how a Knight younge
in flighting had him woone,
1308 & ouercome him in the ffeeld ;

& said, " Jjord 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. 3

[page 335]

1 The Cotton text omits the rest of
this part. The French of the whole
part is very different. — F.

2 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 helen his wounde,
And made him hole and sownde.
Corresponding nearly with our text. — F.
3 The French puts in here its tale of
the Falcon or Sparrow-hawk, which M.
Hippeau summarises thus, p. x. :

LTnconnu, Robert, Helie, et son nail*
apercoivent, en sortant du bois [where
Lybius has vanquished VOrguillous de

LIMITS DISCONIUS.

463

1316

6? parte

1320

1324

[The Sixth Part.]

[Lybius's Adventure at the lie Dore.]

Now let vs rest awhile
of S*r Otes de lile,

& tell wee other tales.
Sir Lybius rode many a mile,
sawe l aduentures many & vile

in England 2 & in Wales,
till itt beffell in the monthe of June,
when the ffenell 3 hangeth in the towne
_ all greene in seemlye manner, 4
The midsummer 5 day is ffaire & long ;
merry is the ffoules songe,

the notes of birds on bryar 6 ;

Lybius sees
adventures

in England
and Wales.

On Mid-
summer day

la Lande, our Sir Otes], un castel d'ou
descend, pour venir a leur rencontre,
une dame richement vetue et d'une
beaute ravissante. Elle leur apprend
que celui qu'elle 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 accompagner par un chevalier
assez hardi pour oser se mesurer avec le
maitre de l'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
lTneonnu, qui trouve l'occasion d'un
nouveau triomphe. Gifflrf, le fils
cFO, est terrasse an effet; et, comme
l'lnconnu apprend que la jeune fille
potir laquelle il vient de se battre est
Marguerie, la fille du roi d'Ecosse, Ago-
lant, il l'a fait conduire chez son pere
par un chevalier dont la valeur et la
loyaute sont eprouvees. Hehe recon-
nait en elle sa cousine; elle lui fait de
tendres adieux. " Je ne sais," dit-elle
avec sensibilite, " si jamais je vous re-

verrai, mais je vous aimerai toujours ! "
— F.

1 One stroke too many for the w in
the MS.— F.

2 Among aventurus fyle

In Yrland.— Cot,
and sey awntours the while
and [in] Irlande. — Lam.
Vile = fele^ numerous. — F.

Chervil & fennel
Two very * mighty
(ones)

3 ceriille and finule
fela mihtigti twa

ba wyrte gesceop
witig drihten
halig on heofenum
\>a. he hongode sette

and ssende

worulde
earmum and

gum
eallum to bote.

on vn.

eadi-

These worts formed
( The) wit-fult Lord
Holy in heavens
Them he set hung-

up |

the 7

And sent to

worlds
For the poor & the

rich
For a remedy § for

all.
34-7, ed. Cockayne,
an e to the r. — F.

Leechdoms, iii.

4 P. has added
sales. — Cot. saale. — Lam.

5 One stroke too few in the MS. — ]

6 briere. — P.

As notes of the nyjtyngales. — Cot,
And notis of the nyghtyngale. — Lam

* fair and. — Cockayne.

+ ^ise he and witty is.— C.

% he suspended. — C.
§ Panacea. — C.

464

Lybius

sees a fair
city,

which
Hellen
tells him

is He d'Ore,

LIBIDS DISCONIUS.

Sir Lybius then gan ryde
] 328 along by a rhier side,
& saw a ffaire Citye
with pauillyons of ranch pride,
& a castle ffaire & wyde,
1332 and gates great plentye.

he asked ffast what itt hight :
the maid said anon-right,
" Sir, I will tell thee ;
1336 men clepeth itt He dore ; l

there hath beene slaine K.nights 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.

" ffor a Ladye that is of price,
1340 her coulour is red as rose on rise. 2
all this cnntry is in doubt
ffor a Gyant that hight Mangys, 3
there is noe more such theeues ! 4
1344 that Jj&dye hee lyeth about ;

he is heathen, as blacke as pitch ;
now there be no more such
of deeds strong & stout ;
1348 what Knight that passeth this brigg,
his armes he must downe ligg,
& to the gyant Lout. 5

" he is 20 6 ffoote of lenght,
1352 & much more of strenght

1 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
conquers every comer for seven years
(or nine according to M. Hippeau) he is
to wed La Dame aux blanches Mains.
The knight has killed 143 opponents,

and cut their heads off (p. 71, 1. 1985),
when he is overcome by Lybius. — F.

2 sprig, twig, shrub, Jun. Lye.— P.

3 Maungys. — Cot.

4 Nowhere hys pere ther nys. — Cot.
Nowhere is non suche.— Lam.

5 MS. Cot. omits the next twelve lines.
— F.

6 thirty. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

465

then other ~Knights ffiue.
Sir Lybius ! now ! bethihke thee,
hee is more grimwner ffor to see
1356 then any one aliue ; 2

he beareth haires on his brow
like the bristles of a sow ;

his head is great & stout 3 ;
1360 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.

Sir Lybius said, " maiden hend !
1364 on our way wee will wend
ffor all his stroakes ill,
if god will me grace send,
or this day come to an end
1368 I hope him ffor to spill. 4
tho I be young & lite, 5
I will him sore smyte,
& let god doe his will.
1372 I beseech god almight

that I may soe w^th him flight,
that giant 6 ffor to kill."

Lybius says

that by
God's help
he'll kill
him before
the day ends.

then they rode fforth all 3
1376 vnto that ffaire cytye,

men call itt He dore 7 ;
anon Mangy can they see
vpon a bridge of tree,
1380 as grimm as any bore ;

Near

lie d'Ore

they see
Mangys

1 well. — Lam.

2 That thou with him ne maeched bee,

He is gryme to Discryue. — Lam.

3 grete as an hyve. — Cot.

4 Cot. inserts here :

I have y-seyn grete okes
Falle fore wyndes strokes,

J?e smale han stonde stylle,
and omits the last three lines of the
stanza. Lam. does the same, altering
the words a little. — F.

5 lite, little.— P.

6 MS. grant. — F. giant, qu. — P.

7 Ylledore. — Cot. Iledolowr. — Lam.

466

L1BIUS DISCONIUS.

with a black
shield,

a spear
and sword.

1384

his sheild was blacke as ter ' ;
his paytrill, 2 his crouper, 3

3 mammetts 4 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.

He cryed to him in despite,
1388 & said, " ffellow, I thee quite ! 5
now what thou art, mee tell ;
& turne againe al soe 6 tyte
ffor thine owne proffitt,
1392 if thou loue thy selfe well."
Sir Lybius said anon-right,
" "King Arthur made me a Knight,
vnto him I made my vow
1396 that I shold neuer turne my hacke
ffor noe such devill in blacke.
goe ! make thee readye now ! '

[page 336]

They charge

(Lords and
ladies

Now Sir Lybius & Mangys,
1 400 Of horsses 7 proud of price

together they rode full right ;
both LorJs & Ladyes there
Lay on pount tornere 8
1 404 to see that seemlye sight,

1 tar. — F. perhaps as Aster, Raster,
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.
pyeche. — Lam. The French knight's
shield is Sinople, greene colour (in
Blazon). — Cotgrave :

Les escus a sinople estoit,

Et mains blances parmi avoit (p. 73). — F.

2 Poitrel, Tpeytre\,antilena : The breast-
armour for a horse. Jun. — P.

3 croupere. — P.

4 Mammet, a puppet, an Image, a

false-god. Jun. — P. One stroke too
many in the MS. — F.

5 Say, bou felaw yn whyt. — Cot. &
Lam.

6 MS. alsoe.— F.

7 On Horses. — P. On stedes. — Cot. &
Lam.

8 ? Pont Tornere, the name of the
bridge. — F.

Leyn out yn pomet 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.

& prayed to god loud & still,
" if that itt were his will,

to lielpe that cristyan Knight ;
1408 & the vile Gyaunt

that beleeueth in Termagant,
that he might dye in flight ! ' :

theire speres brake assunder,
1412 their stroakes flared as the thunder, 1
the peeces gan out spring,
euery man had great wonder
that Sir Lybius had not beeue vnder
1416 att the ffirst begininge.

anon they drew sords bothe ;
as men that were fiull wrothe,
together gan they dinge :
1420 S^r Lybius smote Mangyes thoe
that his sheild ffell him ffroe,
in the ffeild he gan itt filing.

Mangyes gan smite in that stead
1424 Sir Lybius horse on the head,
& dashed out his braine ;
his horsse fell downe dyinge.
St'r Lybius sayd nothing,
1428 but start vp againe ;

an axe in his hand he hent anon
that hunge on his sadle arson, 2
& smote a stroake of maine
1432 through Mangis horsse swire, 3

carued him throug long 4 & liuer, 5
& quitt him well againe.

467

pray that

Lybius may

kill

Mangys).

Their spears
break ;

they draw
their
swords ;

Lybius cuts
away
Mangys's
shield ;

Mangys kills

Lybius's

horse,

and Lybius

kills his.

1 The first part of thunder is blotted
in the MS. — F. donder. — Cot. thornier.
—Lam.

2 arcon. Fr. i.e. saddle bow.— P.

3 swire, swere, the neck. Gl. ad Ch.
—P.

4 through lung. — P.

5 P. has added an e to the end of
Utter. — F.

fore-karf bon and lyre. — Cot.
forkarve bone and lyre. — Lam.

468

Then each

wounds the
other badly,

and they
fight from
six to
evensong.

Ly bius asks
leave to get
some drink.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

descriue the stroakes cold no man
1436 that were giuen betwene them then ;
1 to bedd peace was no boote thoe ;
deepe wounds there they caught,
ffor they both sore ffought,
1440 & either was others ffoe.
ffro : the hower of prime
till it was euensong time,
they ffought together thoe.
1444 Sir Lybius thirsted then sore,
& sayd, " Mangy es, thine ore 2 !
to drinke lett me goe ;

" & I will grant to thee,
1443 what loue 3 thou biddest mee,
such happe if thee betyde.
great shame itt wold bee
a K.night ffor thirst shold dye,
1452 & to thee litle pryde."

Mangys
gives it him,

but as he
lies down
drinking

Mangys
knocks him
into the
river.

Lybius gets
out,

Mangies granted him his will,
ffor to drinke his mil

without any more despite.
1456 as Sir Lybius lay ouer the banke,
through his helme he dranke ;

Mangyes gan him smite
that into the riuer he goes.
1460 but vp anon he rose ;

wonderffull he was dight
with his armour euery deale ;
" now by S! Micaheel
1464 I am twise as light !

1 It was no boot then to bid (propose)
peace.— P. Cot. and Lam. have differ-
ent lines. — F.

2 mercy. — F.

3 bone. — C. & Lam.

LIBIDS DISCONIUS.

469

what weenest thout ffeend fere ?
that I vnchirstened were
or thou saw itt with sight ?
1468 I shall, ffor thy baptise, [ pa ge 337]

well qu[i]tte thee thy service,

by the grace of god almight."
a new battell there began ;
1472 either fFast to other ran,

& stroakes gaue with might,
there was many a gentleman,
and alsoe Ladyes as white as swan,
1476 they prayed all ffor the Knight.

and tells
Mangys

he'll pay
him out.

They fight
again ; t

1480

but Mangis anon in the ffeild
carued 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
cutsLybius's
shield in
two.

Lybius gets
Mangys's
shield ;

& ran againe to him ] ;
1484 with stroakes great and grim
together they did assayle ;
there beside the watter brimne
till it waxed wonderous dimm,
1488 betweene them lasted that battell. 2

Sir Lybius was warryour wight,
& smote a stroke of much might ;
through hawberke, 3 plate and maile,
1492 bee 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.

1 One stroke too many in MS.

2 battayle — P.

3 coat of mail, thro 1 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
Armoroure,

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

1 when the gyant that gan sec
1496 that he shold slaine bee,

hee filed, 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. 2
1504 Sir Lybius bare the head to the towne ;
the mett him with a ffaire procession,
the people came him againe.

a Ladye white as the Lyllye mower,
1508 hight Madam de Armoroure, 3
receiued that gentle Knight,
& thanked him in that stoure

1 The Ashmole MS. 61 reads :
Tho gyante gane to se

That sleyne schuld [he] be :

He stode to fense A-3eyne,
And at be secuwd stroke
Syre lybeus to hjm smote,

And brake hys Arme in tweyne.
The gyante \>er he leuyd,
lybpus smote of hj's hede,

There-of he was full feyne ;
He bore be hed in-to be toune.
~With A fey re prosessyoura

The folke come hym A-3ene.
That lady was whyte As iiowre
That men callyd denamowre.

&c. &c.

2 glad. — P. And of be batayle was
fayn. — Cot.

3 The French text has a glowing des-
cription of the lady's beauty (p. 78-9) :

Sa biaute 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 enluminee :
Moult estoit bele et coloree.
Les oels ot vair, boce riant,

Le cors bien faict et avenant ;

Les levres avoit vermelletes,
[one Line wanting in the MS.]

Boce bien faite por baisier,

Et bras bien fais por embracer.

Mains ot blances 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 pene en fu moult bien ouvree

D'ermine tote eschekeree ;

Moult sont bien fait li esehekier,

Li orles fu mout a prisier ;

Et deriere ot ses crjns jetes ;

D'un ill d'or les ot galones.

De roses avoit i capel

Moult avenant et gent et bel ;

D'un afremail son col frema,

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 cemise at p. 84-5. — F.

4 la dame damore. — Cot.
la dame Amoure. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

471

tliat hee wold lier succour
1512 against that ffeend to flight.

into the chamber shee him ledd,
& in purple & pall shee him cledd,
& in rich rOyall weede ;
1516 & profferred him with honor

ffor to be lord of towne & tower,
& her owne selfe to meede.

who clothes
him in
purple,

and offers
him her
lands and
herself.

Sir Lybius ffrened ! her in hast,
1520 & loue to her anon he cast,

ffor shee was ffaire and sheene.
alas, that hee had not beene chast !
ffor afterwards att the Last
1524 shee did him betray & teene. 2

12 monthes and more
Sir Lybius tarryed thore, 3
& ms mayden with renowne,
1528 that he might neuer out scape
ffor to helpe & ffor to wrake 4
the Ladye of Sinadone ;

He gives her
his love,

but she
betraj's him
at last.
Lybius stays
twelve
months
there,

ffor that ffaire Lady
1532 told 5 more of Sorcery
then such other fliue ;
shee made him great melodye,
of all manner of minstrelsye
1536 that any man cold discreeue.

beguiled by
the Lady's
sorcery,

1 asked. — P. grantede. — Cot.

2 enrage, vex, grieve, G-l. ad G-.D.

N.B. This does not appear from any-
thing which follows in this Ballad : un-
less it be her detaining him by her
enchantments in these stanzas. —P.

3 there : so in Chauc. — P. The French
Romance 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'espine;

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 he had married
her, and leaves his room. He lias
led dreams, thinking he holds her
all nijrht in his arms, and next morning
he resolutely rides away, but returns after
freeing the Lady of Sinadowne. — F.

4 wreak, i.e. revenge. — P.

5 for cold, knew. — F.

472

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

for, when

looking on

her,

he thinks

himself in

Paradise.

1540

when he looked on her fface,

him thought certainlye that hee was

in paradice aliue,
with ffantasye and fayrye ;
& shee bleared his eye

with ffalse sorcerye.

[The Seventh Part.]

At last,
Hellen meets
him,

and

reproaches
him

with his
faithlessness
to Arthur

and the Lady
of Sinadon.

Lybius is
touched to
the heart,

and they
ride off that
night.

Lybius

1548

7'! Parte. i

makes Sir
Geffelett his
steward,

till itt beffell vpon a day
1544 ne niett with Ellen that may

betwene the Castle and the tower
Then vnto him shee gan say,
" thou art ffalse of thy ffay l

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,
& that 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 that 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 Mm his Squier,

Sir Geffelett 3 was his name.

[page 338]

1 faith.— P. 2 Her.— Cot. Hir. -Lam.

Gyfflet— Cot. Gurflete.— Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

473

they rode fforth on tlieir way,
1568 but lightly on their Iourney,

on bay horsses and browne ;
till itt beffell vpon a day
they saw a Citye ffaire and gay,
1572 men call itt Sinadowne, 1
with a Castle hye & wyde,
and pauillyons of much pride
that were of ffaire ffashyon.
1576 then said Sir Lybius

" I haue 2 great wonder of an vse
that he saw 3 in the towne ; "

and they
ride on

till they
see Sina-
downe.

Lybius asks
why they are

they gathered dirt & mire ffull ffast
1580 -which beffore was out cast, 4
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 5
that was cast out beffore !
methinke they doe amisse."
1588 then sayd Mayd Ellen,

" Sir Lybius, without Leasing
I will tell thee why itt is.

"there is no 'King soe well arrayed,

1592 tho he had before payd,

that there shold take ostell, 6
ffor a dread of a steward
that men call Sir Lamberd ;

1596 he is tbe constable of the Castle.

drawinginto
the city the
dirt that
was before
cast out of
it:

What does
it mean ?

Hollen
answers

that no one
can lodge
there

f i ir fear of
Sir Lamberd.

1 synadowne. — Cot. Lam. La Cite
Gaste is the French name of Sinadowne ;
but this preliminary castle is called
Galigans. — F.

2 He had (or),
s i S ee.— P. The Cotton MS. reads :

But lybeaus desconus

VOL. II. ! 1

He hadde wondere of an vus
K't he saw do yn toune.

4 For gore, and fen, and full wast,
That there was out y-kast. — Cot.

5 Sax. horh, fimus, scrota, phlegma.
limns, liens. Vbc. — I*.

6 Fr. hostel, hospitium, Domus. — P.

474

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

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 S* 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.

" & if he beare thee downe,
1604 his trumpetts 1 shalbe bowne,
their beaugles 2 ffor to blow ;
then ouer all this towne,
both mayd & garsowne 3
1608 but dirt on thee shall thro we ;
& but thou thither wend,
vnto thy Hues end

cowarde thou shalt be know ;
1612 & 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,

Sir Lybius sayd, " that were despite !
1616 thither I will goe ffull tyte,
if I be man on liue ;
ffor to doe Arthurs delight,
& to make that Lady quite,
1620 to him I will driue.

Sir Geffelett, make thee ready,
& lett vs now goe hastilye,
anon that wee were bowne."
1624 they rode fforth on their gate

till they came 4 to the Castle gate
That was of great renowne,

[page 339]

1 Trumpetters. — P.

2 bugles, hunting horns ; from bugle,
a wild bull, Lye. — P.

3 Fr. Gargon, Boy.— P.

4 cane in the MS.— F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

475

& there they asked Ostell
1628 in that ffaire Castell

ffor a venturous knight,
the porter ffaire & well
lett them in ffull snell,
1632 & asked anon- right,

"who is jour gouernor ? "
they sayd, " King Arthur,
a man of much might.
1636 to be a king he is worthye,

he is the mower of Chiualrye,
his ffone to ffell in flight."

and ask for
lodging.

The porter

asks who
their
Governor is.

"King
Arthur,

the flower of
chivalry ! "

the porter went without Sable
1640 to his lord the Constable,
& this tale him told :
" Sir, without any ffable,
of Arthurs round table
1644 be comen 2 knights bold,
the one is armed ffull sure
With rich & royall armoure,
with 3 Lyons of gold."
1648 the hord was gladd & blythe,
& said to them ffull swythe,
lust with them hee wold :

The porter

tells
Lamberd

that two of
Arthur's
knights have
come.

Lamberd

says they

" bidd them make them yare l
1652 into the ffeeld ffor to ffare
without the Castle gate."

the porter wold not stent, 2

but euen anon went
1656 to them lightly e att the yate,

& sayd anon-rightes,

" yee aduenturous knights,

arc to get

ready to
fight.

The porter

tells them

1 ready, Sax. Gearwe. — P.

se gearwa, Bosworth. — F.
i i 2

2 stint, stop. — P.

476

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

ffor nothing that yee Lett ;
1660 Looke jouy sheelds be good & strong,
& yowr speres good and long,
sheild, plate, & Basnett,

to ride into

the field,
and his
lord will
fight them.

They ride in,
and wait for

Lamberd,

" & ryde yon into the ffeild ;
1664 my Lord with speare and sheild
anon with yon will play."
Sir Lybins spake words bold,
& said, " this tale is well told,
1668 & pleasant to my pay. 1 "
into the feld the rode,
& boldlye there abode
in their best array. 2
1672 S[ir] Lamberd armed ffnll weele
both in Iron and in Steele
that was both stont & gay ;

whose shield

is black,

his armour
too.

Two sqnires
attend him,

his sheeld was snre & ffine,
1676 3 bores heads was therin

as blacke as brond brent, 3
the bordnre was of rich armin, —
there was none soe qnent 4 a ginn 5
1680 ffrom Carlile into Kent, —
& of the same paynture
was his paytrell & his armonre.
in lande where ener he went,
1684 2 sqniers with him did ryde,
& bare 3 speares by his side
to deale with donghtye dint.

1688

then that stont stewared
that hiaht Sir Lamberd

1 liking.— P.

2 As best bro3t to bay.— C.
As bestis brought to baye.-

-Lam.

3 i. e. burnt brand. — P.

4 quent, queint. — P.

5 gimie, trick, contrivance. — P.

LIBIUS DISCONIDS.

477

armed him ffull well & brig-lit,
& rode into the ffeild ward —
ffeircely as any Libbard —
1692 there abode him that knight.

him tooke a speare of great shape ; l
he thought he came to Late,
when he him saw with sight,
1696 soone he 2 rode to him that stond
With a speare that was round,
as a man of much might.

and he rides
into the
field as fierce
as a leopard.

Lybius
charges him,

Either smote on others sheeld
1700 that the peeces ffell in the ffeild
of theire speares long,
euery man to other tolde
" that younge K.night is ffull bold."
1 704 to him with a speare he fflounge ;

Sir Lamberd did stifflye ssitt ;
he was wrath out of his witt

ffor Ire and ffor teene, 3 [page 340]

1708 & sayd, " bring me a speare !
ffor this Knight is not to Lere,
soone itt shalbe seene." 4

and both
shatter their
spears.

then they tooke shaftes round,
1712 with crownalls sharpe ground,
& ffast to-gether did run ;
either proued other in that stond
to give either theire deaths wound,
1716 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

1 He smote hys schaft yn grate. — C.
He sette his shelde in grate. — Lam.

2 Lybeauus. — C. Lybeons — Lam.

3 anger, madness, vexation.-

-P.

He cryde, "Do come a

schaft!
3yf artours knyjt kan craft,
Now hyt schalle be sene.-

straugerc

Cot.

478

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

shield on the
ground,

into the ffeild a-downe ;
1720 Sir Lamberd him soe hitt

that vnnethes l hee might sett
vpright in his arsowme, 2

and nearly

unhorses

him.

Lvbius cuts
off

Lamberd's
helm,

and makes
him rock in
his saddle
like a child
in a cradle.

his shaft brake with great power.
1724 Sir Lybius hitt him on the visor
that of went his helme bright ;
the pesanye, 3 ventayle, 4 & gorgere, 5
with the helme fflew fforth in fere,
1728 & Sir Lamberd vpright

sate rocking 6 in his sadle
as a chyld in a cradle
without maine & might.
1732 euery man tooke other by the lappe,

& laughed and gan their hands clappe,
barron, Burgesse, and K.night.

Lamberd
gets another
helm,

and they

charge

again.

Lybius

Sir Lamberd, he thought to sitt bett ;
1736 another helme he made to ffett, 7
& a shaft ffull meete.

& when they together mett,

either other on their helmes sett
1740 strokes grim & great.

then Sir Lamberds speare brast,

& Sir Lybius sate soe ffast

1 scarcely. — P.

2 saddle. — P. arscran. — C.

3 pysane. — C. pesanie. — Lam. In
The Anturs of Arther, st. xlv. ed. Rob-
son, p. 21, is:

He girdus to Syr Gauane
Throjhe ventaylle and jnisane ;
on which 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
glides haif hat, gorgeat or pesaune, with
rerebrasares, vambrasares, and gluffes of
plate, breast plate, and leg splentes at
the lest, or better gif liim likes. '"• — F.

4 auentayle. — C. ventail, The Part of
the Helmet which lifts up. Johns. — P.

5 Gorgere, id. ac Gorget. The Piece
of Armo«r which defends the throat.
Johns.— P.

s One stroke too many in this word in
the MS.— P.

7 fett, fetch.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

479

in tlio saddle there hee l sett,
1744 that they Constable Sir Lamberd
ffell of his horsse backward,
soe sore they there inett.

1748

1752

1756

1760

1764

1768

Sir Lamberd was ashamed sore.
Sir Lybius asked if he wold more. 2

he answered and said " nay !
ffor sithe that euer I was 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
I will flight for my Ladye ; 4

I promised soe to ~King Arthur ;
but I ne wott how ne why
who does her that villanye,

ne wbat is her dolor ;
but this maid that is her mesenger,
certes has brought me here

her ffor to succour."
Sir Lamberd said in that stond
"welcome, Sir ~K.night of the table round,

into my strong tower ! "

then mayd Ellen anon-rightes
was ffeitched fforth with 5 K.nightB

unhorses
Lamberd,

and asks
him if he
wants any
more.

"No," says
Lamberd,

"you must be
of Gawaiiie'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.

1 One stroke too many in this word in
the MS.— F.

2 The French omits this question ;
makes Lampars go to Lybius and say :

" Sire," fait-il, " ca, descendes ;
Par droit aves l'ostel conquis ;
Vos l'aueres a vo dens,"

then embrace Hellen or Hllic, and ask
her what she did (at Arthur's court). — F.

3 A letter is crossed out at the end of
this word in the MS. — F.

4 ffey3te y schalle for a lady. — 0.
ffyght y shall for thy ladye. — Lam.

480

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Hellen and
the Dwarf
are fetched
in,

and relate

Lybins's

adventures.

bcflbre Sir Lamberd.
sliee & the dwarffe by-deene
told of 6 battells ! keene
1776 that lie had done thitherward

the sayd that Sir Lybius then
had ffought with, strong men,
& beene in stowers hardye.
1780 then they were glad & blythe,
& thanked god alsoe sithe 2
tit at he were soe mighty e.

Lybius and
Lamberd
talk of old
heroes.

Lybius asks
what knight
has im-
prisoned the
Lady of
Sinadowne.

they welcomed him with mild cheere,
1784 & sett them to supper

with much mirth and game.
Sir Lybius & Sir Lamberd in ffere
of ancyents that beffore were
1788 talked both in 3 -same.

Sir Lybius sayd, " with- out ffable, 4
tell me now, Sir Constable,
what is the 'Knights name
1792 that hath put in prison
my Ladye of Sinadon

that is soe gentle a dame ? "

[page 341]

: No knight;

but two
clerks,

sorcerers,
named

Sir Lamberd said, " soe mote I gone,
1796 Knights there beene none

that dare her away Lead ;

2 Clarkes beene her ffone,

ffull ffalse in body & in bone,
1800 that hath done this deed.

they be men of Masterye

their artes ffor to reade of Sorcerye";

1 Tolde seven dedes. — Cot.

2 fele syde.— C. fele sythe.
• Swithe' is quickly. — F.

3 im in the MS.— F.
-Lam. 4 There is none of this in the French.

— F.

LIBIUS DISCOMUS.

481

]\Iabam l the hight one in deede,
1804 & Iron night the other verelye, 2
cla[r]ckes 3 of Nigromancye,
of them wee haue great dread.

Mabam

and Iron,

necro-
mancers,

" this Mabam & Irowne
1308 haue made in the towne

a palace of quent gin 4 ;
there is no Erie ne barron
that has hart as Lyon
1812 that dare come therin ;
itt is all of the ffaierye
wrought by Nigromancye,
that wonder it is to winne.
1816 there they keepe in prison
my Ladye of Sinadowne,
that is of K.nights kinn. 5

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 6 her with eye,

therto we haue no might,
this Mabam & Iron trulye
had sworene to death trulye
1824 her death ffor to dight,
but if shee grant vntill
ffor to do Mabams will,
& giue him all her right
1828 of all that Dukedome ffayre,
therof is my ladye heyre
that is soe much of might.

and will put
her to death,

unless she

gives up her
dukedom to
Mabam.

" shee is soe meeke & soe ffaire
1832 therfore wee be in dispayre

1 Syr Maboune.— C.

'syr Irayn hys broker.
-Lam.
3 Clarkes.— P.

4 Curious contrivance. — P.
-C. Irayne. 5 The n is made over an e, or vice

versa, in the MS. — F.

6 A w follows and is crossed out. — F.

482

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Lybius says
that by
Jcsus's help

he'll cut off
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.

ffor tlic dolour that sliees in."
then sayd Sir Lybius,
" through the helpe of Iesus
1836 that Ladye I will winne ;
& Mabam. & Iron,
smite of there anon

theire heads in that 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, 2
the Barrons & Burgesse all
came to that seemlye hall
1848 ffor to listen & heare

how Sir Lybius had wrought;
& if the Knight were ought,
his talking for to harke. 3
1852 they ffound them sitting in ffere
talking, att their supper,

of Kmghta stout and starke.

1 C. omits the next twelve lines,
alters many before). — F.

2 Tho was no more tale

(and I the Castell grete and smale,

But stouped and made hym blythe.
— Lam.

3 His crafte for to kythe. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

483

[The Eighth Part.]

[Of Lybius' s Adventures in Sinadowne, and how he conquers the Lady's Enchanters.]

& after they went to rest,
1856 & tooke their likeing 1 as them list 2
in that Castell all night.
On the morrow anon-right
Sir Lybius was armed bright ;
I860 ffresh he was to flight.

Sir Lamberd led him algate 3
ga -parted right vnto f ne Castle gate ;

open they were ffhll right ;
1 864 n0 raai1 dnrst him neere bringe
fforsooth, with-out Leasing,
Barron, Bnrgess, ne Knight,

All go to bed.

Next
morning

Lamberd

takes
Lybius to
the castle
gates,

but no man
dares go in
with him.

But turned home againe.
1868 S/r Grefnet his owne swaine 4
wold with him ryde,
but Sir Lybius ffor certaine
Sayd he shold backe againe, 1
1872 and att home abyde.

Sir Gefflett againe gan ryde 5
with Sir Lamberd ffor to abyde ;
& to Iesu christ they 6 cryed,
1876 ffor to send them tydings gladd
of them that long had

destroyed then 1 welthes wyde.

His squire
wants to,

but Lybius
forbids him.

[page 342]

All pray for
the sorcerers'
deaths.

1 Only half the n in the MS.— F.

2 J>o toke peye 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 Laapars describe

to Lybius what he will see, and what
he is to do, in la Cite Gaste, (p. 98-
100).— F.

4 youth, servant. Jan. — P.

5 The Cotton text makes Gefilett stop
at the castle, 1. 1754. — F.

6 sc. the People. — P.

484

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Lybius rides
into the
palace,

sees horns,
hears music,
and sees
a bright fire.

Lybius rides
farther in,

Sir Lybius, K.night curteous,
880 rode into that proud palace, 1
& att the hall he light,
trumpetts, homes, & shaumes 2 ywis
he ffound beffore the hye dese, 3
1884 he heard, & saw with sight.

a fFayre flyer there was stout & stowre
in the midds of the flore,
brening ffaire and bright. 4
1888 then ffurther in hee yeed,

& tooke with him his steede
that 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, Sidle & note, 5
& alsoe wz'th Organ note, —

great mirth they made all, —
& alsoe fiddle and sautrye 6 ;
soe much of minstrelsye

ne say 7 he neuer in hall.

and a torch
before every
man.

Lybius

can't find
any one to
fight,

before euery man stood
1904 a torch fiayre and good,
brening flull bright.
Sir Lybius Euermore yode 8
ffor to witt 9 w/th Egar mood
1908 who shold with him flight.

1 The French text describes the
palace, p. 101. — F.

2 shaumes, a Psaltery ; a Musical In-
strume?;t like a Harp. Chau. Gl. — P.

3 Dese, Deis. The high table.— P.

4 Was ly3t & brende bry3t.— C.

That tente and brende bright. — Lam.

5 rote. — C. lute and roote. — Lam.

6 a Psaltery, vid. Supra. — P.

7 saw. — P.

8 went. — P.

9 know.— P.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

485

1912

liee went into all the corners,
& beheld the pillars

that seemelye l were to sight :
of Iasper ffine & Cristall,
all was fflourished in the hall ;

itt was ffull ffaire & bright.

but only sees

jasper

pillars,

the dores were all of brasse,
1916 & the windowes of ffaire glasse,
that ymagyrye itt was drine.
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
that made the mirth soe gay,
1924 the torches that were soe bright
were quenched anon-right,

& the minstrells were all away ;

the dores & the windowes all,
1 928 the bett 2 together in the hall

as it were strokes of thunder ;
the stones in the Castle wall
about him downe gan ffall ; —
1932 thereof he bad great wonder ; —
the earth began to quake,
& the dese ffor to shake

that was him there vnnder 3 ;
1936 the hall began for to breake,
& soe did the wall eke,

as they shold ffall assundcr.

brass floors,
&c,

in the

decorated

hall.

He 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,

tin 1 earth
quakes,

the hall and
walls begin
to crack.

as he sate thus dismayd,
1940 he held himselfe betrayd.

1 In line 1910 in the MS.— F.

They beat.— P.

3 there undo:'. — P.

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.

Lybius

is quite
willing,

mounts,

then horses heard hee nay :
to himselfe then he sayd,
" now I am the better apayd,
1944 for yett I hope to play."

hee looked fforth into the ffeild,
saw there with speare and sheild !

men of armes tway, 2
1948 in purple & pale armoure

well harnished in that stoure,

with great garlands gay.

The one came ryding into the hall,
1952 & to him thus gan call,

" Sir ~Knight aduenturous !
such a case there is befall ;
tho thou bee proude in pall,
1956 flight thou must with vs.
I hold thee quent of ginne 3
if thou my Ladye winne 4
that is in prison."
1960 Sir Lybius sayd anon- right,
"all ffresh I am ffor to flight,

with the helpe of goddes sonne."

Sir Lybyus with good hart
1964 ffast into the saddle he start ;

in his hand a speare he hent,

& ffeircly he rode him till,

his enemyes ffor to spill ;
1968 ffor that was his entent.

[page 343]

1 There is a stroke between the e and
i in the MS.— F.

2 The French postpones the darkness,
&c, and makes Lybius first see and fight
a single knight (p. 103, Eurains lifers,
p. 119), and put him to flight; then fight
another (Mabons, p. 119), 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 Damoisdlc aux
Nances mains, and commends himself
to God; the Wivre (Lat. vi'pera') 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.

3 clever of contrivance.— P.

4 wime MS.— F.

LIBIDS DISCONIUS.

but when they 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 ;
ffor Mabams saddle arsowne
brake there- with, & fell downe
1980 into the ffeild without ffayle.
well nye he had him slone ;
but then came ryding Iron

In a good hawberke of mayle ;
1984 all ffresh he was to mght,

& thought he wold anon-right
Sir Lybius assayle.

Sir Lybius was of him ware,
1988 & speare vnto him bare,
& left his brother still,
such a stroke he gaue hime thore
that his hawberke all to-tore ;
1992 that liked him ffull ill.
their speares brake in 2 ;
swords gan they draw tho
with hart grim and grill, 2
1996 & stiffly e gan to other ffight ;

either on Other proued their might,
eche other ffor to spill.

487

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,

2000

then together gan they hew.
Mabam, the more shrew, 3

and hew at
one another.

1 felon stroke, i.e. a murderous stroke.
-P.

2 idem ac grisly. Gl. ad Ch. — P.

3 shrew, apud Chaucer est, a Villaim ;
here it scorns to signify shrewd, cunning,
artful.— P.

488

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

Mabam
gets up,

and attacks
Lybius too,

but he
defends
himself like
a man.

Mabam (t.i.
Iron)

chops off
Lybius's
steed's neck.

Lybius cuts
Iron's thigh
in two,

vp he rose againe ;
he heard & alsoe knew
Iron gaue strokes ffew ;
2004 therof he was not ffaine ;

bnt to him he went ffull right
ffor to helpe Iron to flight,

& auenge him on his enemye.
2008 tho he were nener soe wroth,

Sir Lybius fought against them both

and kept himselfe manlye.

when Mabam saw Iron, 1
2012 he flbught as a Lyon

the ~kniglit to slay with wreake.
beffbre his ffardar arsowne
soone he earned then downe
2016 Sir Lybius steeds necke.

Sir Lybius was a worthy warryour,
& smote a 2 his thye 2 in that stoure,
skine, 3 bone, and blood.
2020 then helped him not his clergye,
neither his ffalse Sorcerye, 4

but downe he ffell with sorry moode.

dismounts,

and fights
Mabam.

The sparks

fly.

Sir Lybius of his horsse alight,
2024 with Mabam ffor to flight.
in the ffeild both in ffere

strong stroakes they gaue with might,

that sprakeles 6 sprang out ffull bright
2028 ffrom helme and harnesse cleere.

as either ffast on other bett, 6

both their swords mett,

1 Yrayn saw Mabonn. — Cot. Lam.

2 There is the long part of another /*
in the MS.— F.

3 ? skime in the MS.— F.

4 po halp hym no3t hys armys,

Hys chauntemerat, ne hys charmys.
—Cot.

Ne halpe hym not his Armour,
His chauntemewts, ne his chambur.
— Lam.

5 ? MS. spaakeles.— F.

6 did beat.— P.

LIMITS DISCONIUS.

489

As yee may now heare. tpage 344]

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 l agramed 2
ffor he had Lost his sword,
& his steed was lamed,
& he shold be defamed
2040 to 'King Arthur his lord,
to Iron lithelye 3 he ran,
& hent vp his sword then

that sharpe edge 4 had & hard,
2044 & ran to Mabam right

& ffast on him gan flight,
& like a madman he flared.

Mabam
cuts Lybius' s
sword in
two.

Lybius
gets angry,

catches up
Iron's sword,

runs to
Mabam

but euer then Bought Mabam,
2048 as he had beene a wyld man,
Sir Lybius ffor to sloe,
but Sir Lybius carued downe
his sheild with that ffawchowne
2052 that he tooke Iron ffroe :
true tale ffor to be told, 5
the left hand with the sheild
away he smote thoe.
2056 then sayd Mabam him till

" Sir ! thy stroakes beene ill !
gentle Knight, now hoe, G

" & I will yeeld me to thee
2060 in lone and in Loyaltye

and cuts off
his shield

and left
hand.

Mabam

offers to

surrender

himself,

1 for euir, or evil. — F. sore. — Lam.
Cot. omits it. — F.

2 agramed, displeased, grieved. Gl.
ad Chauc. rather {agramed) angered.
A.-S. Gram. Furor. Lye. — P.

VOL. II. K K

3 lithely, gently, (nimbly). — P.

4 The d has two bottoms in the MS.,
or the. word is ridge. — F.

5 teld, rhythmi gratia. — P.

6 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 kill
him.

att thine owne will,
& alsoe that Lady ffree
that is in my posstee, 1
2064 take her I will thee till ;

ffror through that sh[r]ueed dint
my hand I haue tint 2 ;
the veinim will me spill ;
2068 fforsooth without othe
I venomed them both,
onr enemy es ffor to kill."

Lybius
refuses,

calls on him
to fight
again,

and then

splits his
head in two.

Sir Lybins sayd, "by my thrifft
2072 I will not hane of thy gift

ffor all this world to w[i]nn !
therfore lay on stroakes swythe !
the one shall cnt the other blythe
2076 the head of by the Chin 3 ! "
then Sir Lybins and Mabam
ffonght together ffast then,
& lett ffor nothing againe ;
2080 that Sir Lybins that good rLnight
earned his helme downe right,
& his head in twayne. 4

1 poste, apud Chauc. est Power. Vid.
Gl.— P.

2 lost.— P.

3 One stroke too many in the MS. — F.

4 The French adds (p. 108):
Del cors li saut i fumiere,
Qui molt estoit hideuse et fiere,
Qui li issoit parmi la boce, &e. — F.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

491

[The Ninth Part.]

[How Lybius disenchants and weds the Lady of Sinadowne.]

JSTow is Mabam slaine ;
& to Irora he went againe,

with sword drawne to ffight ;
ffor to haue Clouen his braine,
9'! Parte *( I tell you ffor certaine

he went to him. ffull right ;
but when he came there, 1
away he was bore,

into what place he nist. 2
2092 he sought him fFor the nones 3
wyde in many woones 4 ;
to ffight more him List.

Lybius goes
to kill Iron,

but he has
vanished,

and can't be
found.

as he stood, & him bethought 5
2096 that itt wold be deere bought
that he was ffrom him fare,
ffor he wold with sorcerye
doe much tormenrtye,
2100 & that was much care.

he tooke his sword hastilye,
& rode vpon a hill hye,

Lybius

thinks he
may give
him trouble.

Lybius

1 thore — P.

2 MS. list. ? nist, knew not.— F.
nyste. — Cot. nuste. — Lam.

3 the nones, or nonce, on purpose ; de
industria. Jim. purposely. — P.

4 ivone, a house, habitation. — P.

5 Neither the French, nor Cot., nor
Lam., has the seeing and slaying of the
knight which follows here. Cot. reads :

And whawne he ne fond hym no3t,
He held hymself be-caujt,

And gan to syke sarc,
And seyde yn word and lx>u3t,
" J>ys wyll be sore a-boujt

\>at he ys \hus fram me y-fare."
^[ On kne hym sette Jwt gentyllc kny3t,
And prayde to marie bry3t, t
Keuere hym of hys care.
For the last three lines, Lam. substi-
tutes :

" He will with sorcerye
Do me tormentrye

That is my mosto care."
Sore he sat and sighte ;
He muste whate do her myght ;
He was of blysso all bare.
(1. 2122-7 here).— F.

K K

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 "Knight 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.

as he rode by a riuer side
2108 he was ware of him that tyde
vpon the riuer brimm :
He rode to him ffull hott,
& of his head he smote,
2112 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

& sought that ladye ffaire and hend,
2120 but he cold her not find ;

therfor he sighed ffull sore. 1
still he sate moumi[n]g
ffor that Ladye ffaire & young;
2124 for her was all his care ;

he ne wist what he doe might ;
but still he sate, & sore he sight,
of Ioy hee was ffull bare.

[page 345]

A window
opens,

2128 but as he sate in that hall,

he heard a window in the wall,

ffaire itt gan vnheld ; —
great [wonder 2 ] there with-all
2132 in his hart gan ffall ; —
as he sate & beheld,

1 sair. Scotice. — P. 2 fear or dread. — P. wonder. — Cot. wondyr.— Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

493

a worme l out gan pace
wi'tli a womans fface
2136 that was younge & nothing old.

the wormes tayle 2 & 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 without ffayle ;

Lothelye 3 was her boclye.
Sir Lybius swett for heate,
2144 there sate in his seate

as all had beene a ffire him by. 4
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 with mouth him Kist,
& colled about his lyre. 5

2152 & after that 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,

1 Fr. wivre. 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 calPd Viverra in Latin."
De Biauju's description of it may be
compared with the English :

A tant vit i aumaire ouvrir

Et une Wivre fors issir,

Qui jetoit une tel clarte

Com i cierge bien enbrase.

Tot le palais enluminoit,

Une si grant clarte jetoit.

Horn ne vit onques sa parelle,

Que la bouce ot tot vermelle ;

Parmi jetoit le feu ardent ;

Moult par estoit hideus et 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 l'aumaire descent,
Et vint parmi le pavement.
Quatre toises de lone duroit,
En la queue iii neus avoit.
C'onques nus horn ne vit greignor,
Ains Dius ne fist cele color,
Qu'en li ne soit entremellee,
Dessous sambloit estre doree.
110-11).— F.

Hyre body. — Cot. Lam.

3 i.e. loathsome. — P.

4 Maad as he were. — C.

As alle had ben in fyre. — Lam.

5 apud Scot, flesh. Apud Chaue. /ere is
the Complexion or Air of the face. — P.
Swyre. — Cot. Lam. CoU is to embrace;
Fr. collee, an imbracing about the necke.
Cotgrave.

(PP

494

IJB1US DISCONIUS.

and a lovely
woman

stands

naked before
him.

She tells
him

he has slain

two

sorcerers,

who turned
her into a
serpent

till she
should kiss
Gawaine
or one of
his kin.

ffell away her ffroe ;
she was ffaire in all thing,
2156 a woman without Leasing ;

fairer he saw neuer or thoe. 1
shee stood vpp al soe 2 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. 3

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 masters of their mouth ; A
many a man they haue shend.
through their inchantment,
to a worme the had me meant, 5
2172 ne woe to wrapp me in

till I had k[i]ssed S/r Gawaine
that is a noble ~K.night certaine,
or some man of his kinn.

1 De Biauju sends her back into her
cupboard after the kiss, stupefies Lybius,
and reveals his name and parentage to
him, — Giglains, son of Gauvains (Ga-
waine), anilafSe 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
Ullle de la Montbestee (p. 116); and
the lady declares herself as the daughter
of le bon roi Gringars. She narrates
how Mabons and Eurains enchanted the
5000 inhabitants and made them destroy
the city, and then turned her into a
worm. Of the town she says :

. . ceste ville par droit non

Est appelee Senaudon ;

Por ce que Mabons l'a gastee,
Est Gastecit.es 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.

3 God yelde be dy whyle,

\>at my fon \>o\i woldest slo. — Cot.

God yelde the thi wille,

My foon thou woldest sloo. — Lam.

4 Be wordes of hare mouthe. — Cot.
With maystres of her mouthe. — Lam.

5 this word signifies mingled, mixed,
ap? G. Doug. Chauc. &c. — P.

To warme me hadde bey y-went
In wo to welde and wend. — Cot.
To a worme they had me went,
In wo to leven and lende. — Lam.

LIBITJS DISCOMUS.

495

2176 ffor l thoU hast saued my liffe,
Castles 50 and 2 flme
take to thee I will,
& my selfe to be thy wiffe
2180 right without striffe,

if itt be your will." 3

She promises
Lybius
fifty-five
castles

and herself
as his wife.

then was he glad & blythe,
& thanked god often sythe 4
2184 That him that grace had sent, [page 346]
& sayd, " my Lord 5 faire & ffree,
all my loue I leaue with thee,
by god omnipotent !
2188 I will goe, my ~La,dye bright,
to the castle gate ffull right,

thither ffor to wend
ffor to feitch jouv geere
2192 that yee were wont to weare,
& them I will you send.

Lvbius is

blithe,

and proposes
to fetch the
lady's

clothes from
the castle,

" alsoe, if itt be yowr will,
I pray you to abyde still
2196 till I come 6 againe."

" Sir," shee said, " I you pray
wend fforth on your way, 7
therof I am ffaine."

if she will

stay till he
conies back.

2200 Sir Lybius to the castle rode,
there the people him abode ;

Lybius rides
to the castle

1 because.— P. 2 MS. amd.— F.

3 3yf hyt ys artours wylle. — Cot.

• And hit be Arthures will. — Lam.

4 Time — also, since, afterwards. Gl.
Chauc. — P. Cot. has for this and the
next sixteen lines:

And lepte to horse swybe,

And lefte bat lady stylle.
But ener he dradde yrayn,
For he was no3t y-slayn,

"W7t A speche he wolde hym spylle.

Lam. has nearly the same words, but
omits the last line but one. — F.

5 Ladye.— P.

6 cone in MS.— F.

7 " 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 yo u , and way to the j>, so
that the words are " I on your pway."
— F.

496

LIMITS DISCONIUS.

and tells the
people that
Mabam and
Iron are
slain.

to Iesn chr[i]st gaii they cr}*e
ffor to send them ty dings glad
2204 of them that Long had

done them tormentrye.
Sir Lybins is to the Castle come,
& to Sir Lamberd he told anon,
2208 and alsoe the Barronye, 1
how Sir Mabam was slaine
& Sir Iron, both twayine,

by the helpe of mild Marye.

He sends a
rich robe

2212 when that Knight soe keene
had told how itt had beene

to them all by-deene,
a rich robe good & ffine,
2216 well ffurred with 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 priniliche, 2
2220 that mayd ho wold home bring. 3
& when shee was readye dight,
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 precyous gold a rich crowne
there on her head the sett.

and thank
God.

they were glad and blythe,
& thanked god often sithe

1 i. e. The Barrens collectively. — P.

2 i.e. privily. — F.

3 A-non without dwellynge. — Cot.
A byrd hit ganne hir bringe. — Lam.

LIBIUS DISCONIUS.

497

2232 that ffrom woe tliera had brought,
all the Lords of dignity e
did him homage and ffealtye,
as of right they ought.

2236 they dwelled 7 dayes in the tower
there Sir Lamberd was gouernor,

with mirth, Ioy, and game ;
& then they rode with honor
2240 vnto King Arthur,

the Knights all in-same.

ffins. 1

Lybius and
the lady stay
seven days
there,
and then
ride off to
Arthur.

1 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 the
three imprinted MSS. as well as the Cotton one. The Lincoln's Inn and Ashmole
MSS. have more stanzas than the Cotton and Lambeth ones.

Lincoln's Inn MS. Hale, IS'o. 150, art. ?'.,
last leaf.

J>ay bonkyd god almy3t,
BoJ?e Arthour and his kny^t,

]bat heo [ne] hadde* schame.
Arthour 3af as blyue
Libeus bat may to wyue

bat was so gent a dame.

beo murthe of beo brydale,
Nomon con wib tale

Telle hit in no geste.
In bat semly sale
Weore lordes monye and fale,

And ladyes wel honeste.
ber was ryche seruyse
Bobe to fool and wyse,

To leste and to meste.
ber wan bay yche 3ifthes, [back of leaf]
vche mynstral a ryjhtis,

And somme bat weore vnprest.

Sir Gawayn, kny3t of renoun,
saide to beo lady of synaydoun,

" Madame, treouely,
he bat weddid be wib pruyde,
y gat him by a forest syde

On a gentil lady."

Ashmole MS. 61, leaf 58b.
They thankyd god of his myjhtes,
Kynge Axthour And hys kny3htes,

That sche had no schame.
Arthoz<r 3ane be-lytie [leaf 59]

Syre lybeus bat mey to wyue,

That was so jentyll A dame.

The my[r]the of bat brydall
May no man tell witA tale

Ne sey in no geste :
Yn b«t sembly sale
Where brydes grete and smale,

And lacks full honeste ;
There was many A mane,
And seruys gode wone

Both to most and leste.
Fore soth be mynstrallcs Alle
That [were] witA-in b"t halle

And f 3yftcs of be beste.

Syre lybeus moder so fre
Come to b«t mangcrre ;

Hyre rudd was rede as ryse ;
Sche knew lybeus wele be syjht,
And wyst wele A-none ry3ht

That he was of mych pryse.

Sche went to ser gawene,
And seyd, " witA-outen hyne

* An s, blotted, stands here in the MS.— F.

t had— F.

498

LIBIDS DISCONIUS.

(Lincoln's Lin MS. continued.)

Jeanne fat lady blybe was,
And ful ofte kyssed his fas,

And haylsel [sic] hym sykyrly.
Sir Libcus ban wold kybe :
he wente to his fader swyjse,

And kyssed him tymes nionye.

he kneoled in f>at stounde,

And saide, kneoland on grounde,

" for godis loue al weldand,
tat made beo world so round,
fayre fadir, or y fonde,

hlesse me wif> byn hond."
J?at hynde kny3t Gawayn
blessyd beo child wij> mayn,

And made him seoj^'e vp stande.
he comaundyd kny3t and sweyn
To clepe Libeus " Gengelayne,"

J^at was lord of lond.

fourty dayes bay dwellyd,
And heore feste faire heold

wib Arthoure beo kynge.
As beo gest vs tolde,
Arthour wij> kny3tis bolde

hom gonne bay brynge.
twenty yere bay lyued in-same
wib muehe gleo and game,

he and bat swete J?yuge.
Ihesu Cryst oure saueour,
And his modir bat swete Hour,

spede ts at our nede !

Explicit Lebiuws de-sconius [?MS.]

(Ashmole MS. continue!. )

Thys is owre ehyld so fre."
Than was he glad and blyth,
And kyssed hym many A sythe,

And seyd, " b«t lykes me."

Syre gawen, kny3kt of renowne,
Seyd to be lady of synadouw,

" Madame, treuly
Ho b«t hath be wedyd with pride,

Y gate hym vnd[er] A forest syde
Offagentylllady."

Than hat lady was blyth,

And thankyd hym many A syth,

And kyssed hy;« sykerly.
Than lybeus to hym wan,
And her he kyssed hat man ;

Fore soth treuly

He fell on kneys in b«t stourod,
lybeus knelyd on be grouwd,

And seyd, "fore god All weldingc
That made be werld rownd,
Feyre fader, wele be 3e fownd!

Blysse me with }our blyssynge ! "

That hend kny3ht gawene
Blyssed hys sone with mayne,

And made hym vp to stond,
And comandyd kny3ht and sweyne
To calle hym gyngelyane,

That was lorde of lond.

Forty deys her they duellyd, [i ea f 596.]
And grete fest bei held

With Kvthour be kynge.
As be gest hath told,
Arthour with knyjhtes bold

Home gane hym brynge.
X 3ere )>ei lyued in-same
With mekyll gle and game,

He and that suete thynge.
Ihesu cryst owre snwyour,
And his moder hat suete floure,

To heuene blys vs brywge !

Here endes he lyfe —

Y telle 30W witk-outen stryfe —
Off gentyll libeus disconews.

Fore his saule now byd 3e
A pater noster And An Aue,

Fore be loue off Ihesws,
That he of hys sawle haue pyte,
And off owrys, iff hys wyll be,

When we schall wend her-to.
And 3e bat haue herd hat talkynge,
3e schall haue be blyssinge

Of Ihesu cryst All-so.

[Finis.]

LIBIUS DISOONIUS.

499

Cotton, Calig. A. ii.fol. 57, col. 2.

And bonkede godes urates,
Artoure and hys kny3tes,

pat he ne hadde no schame.
Artoure yaf here al so * blyue,
Lybeauus to be hys wyfe,

pat was so gentylle a dame.

pe Ioye of b«t bredale
Nys not told yn tale,

Ne rekened yn no gest.
Barons and lordynges fale
Come to bat semyly sale,

And ladyes welle honeste.

per was ryche seruyse

Of alle bat men koub deuyse,

To lest & ek to mest.
pe menstrales yn boure & hallo
Hadde ryche yftes wz't/i-alle,

And bey \>at weryn vnwrest.

Fourty dayes tey dwellede
And hare feste helde

With artoure be kyng.
As be frenssche tale teld,
Artoure with kny3tes held

At horn gan hem brynge.

Fele 3ere bey leuede yn-same
With moche gle & game,

Lybeauus & b«t swete by n g-
Ihesu cryst oure sauyoure,
And hys modere bat swete floure,

GraiiMte vs alle good endynge.

Amen.

Explicit libeauus desconus.

Lambeth MS. 306, leaf 106.

Tbey thanked god with al his myghtw,
Arthur and alle his knyghu's,

That he hade no shame.
Arthur gave als blyve
Lybeous that lady to wyfe,

That was so gentille a dame.

The myrro?<r of that brydale
No man myght telle with tale

In Eyme nor in geste.
In that semely Saale
Were lordys many and fale,

And ladies fulle honeste.

There was Eiche Service
Bothe to lorde and ladyes,

To leste and eke to moste.
Thare were gevyn riche giftis,
Euche mynstrale her thriftis,

And some that were vnbrest.

ffourty dayes thei dweldefi,
And ther here feste helden

With Arthur the kynge,
As the ffrensshe tale vs tolde.
Arthur kyng, with his knyght/s bolde,

Home he gonne hem brynge.

Sevyn yere they levid same
With mekylle Ioye and game,

He and that swete thynge.
Nowe Ihesu Criste oure Savioiire,
And his moder, that swete floure,

Grawnte vs gode Endynge ! Amen.

Explicit libious Disconyus.

* MS. also.

500

Cfttltie iflattn're: 1

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 medias res,
Non secus 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 fine
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
having 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 ! 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 he rode till ho 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 mc.

the mother recognising in her slain lover her one only son.

That terrible passage in the Bacchce of Euripides, where tin-
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.

the situation is deepened by the fact that her own hands have
done the deed :

ta, t'i Aevcnxw ; rl (ptpofiai T(5S' eV x e P°^ v >

Then answers Cadmus :

&dpy](Tov avrb Ka\ aa<p4(TT€pov fxaOe.
AI\ 6p<2 /j.4yi(TT0v &\yos 7} TaXaiv tyw.
KA. (xwv aoi \eovri (paiffrai irpoaeiKevai ;
Ar. ovk * uAAa Ylev64cos r) TaKaiv e^co K&pa.

Child
Maurice,
while
hunting,

tells his
footpage

to go to John
Steward's
w ife,

greet her as
many times
as there are
knots on a
net,

and ask her

IjHILDE Maurice minted itlie siluen ' wood,

he hunted itt round about,
& noebodye that he ffound therin,
4 nor none there was wtth-out.

2 & he tooke his siluer combe in his hand,

to kembe his yellow lockes ;
he sayes, " come hither, thou litle ffoot page,
8 that runneth 3 lowlye by my knee ;
ffor thou shalt goe to Iohn stewards wiffe
& pray her speake with mee.

" & as itt ffalls out many times,
12 as knotts beene knitt on a kell, 4

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 flail es 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, 15, & 21, and after
line 64. Ballads ii. 313-16. — F.

3 MS. rumeth.— F.

4 Kelle, reticulum, retiaculum (Catho-
licon). Eeticula 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 hare obtained in
England from the time of Henry III.
until that of Elizabeth, and an endless
variety of examples are afforded by
illuminated MSS. and monumental effi-
gies. It was termed calle or kelle, a
term directly taken, perhaps, from the
French cole, Latin calantica or callus.
Way in Promptormm, p. 270, note 1 . — F.

CHILDE MAURICE.

503

" as schoole masters are in any schoole house
20 writting with pen and Iinke, —
ffor if I might, as well as shee may,
this night I wold with her speake.

" & heere I send her a mantle of greene,
24 as greene as any grasse,

& bidd her come to the siluer wood
to hunt with Child Maurice ;

" & there I send her a ring of gold,
28 a ring of precyous stone,

& bidd her come to the siluer wood ;
let ffor no kind of man."

one while this litle boy he yode,
32 another while he ran ;

vntill he came to Iohn Stewards hall,
I- wis he neuer blan.

to come and
hunt with
him.

He sends her
a ring.

The footpago
goes to John
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 schoolemasfors in any schoole
wryting with pen and inke ;

and gives
the lady

Child
Maurice's
message :

he greets
her as many
times as
there are
knots on
her cap,

504

CHILDE MAURICE.

he sends her
a green
mantle

" & lieere lie sends a Mantle of greene,
52 as greene as any grasse,

& lie bidds you come to the siluer wood,
to hunt with Child Maurice.

and a gold
ring,

and begs her
to come to
the wood to
him.

John
Steward
overhears
this,

orders his
steed

and armour,

rides to the
wood,

" & heere 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 ffootpagc,
60 ffor Christes sake, I pray thee !

ffor if my lord heare one of these words,
thou must be hanged hye ! "

Iohn steward stood vnder the Castle wall,
64 & he wrote the words euerye one,

& he called vnto his horskeeper,
" make ready e you my steede ! ' :

I, and soe hee did to his Chambei'laine,
68 " make readye then my weede ! "

& he cast a lease x 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 Sound him Child Maurice

sitting vpon a blocke,
with a siluer combe in his band
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 :

1 ? leash, thong, cord. See lees, lesc in Halliwell. — F.

CHILDE MAURICE.

505

" I doe not know your Ladye," he said,

" if that I doe her see."
" ffor thon hast sent her loue tokens,
84 more now then 2 or 3 ;

" ffor thon hast sent her a Mantle of greene,

as greene as any grasse,
& bade her come to the siluer woode
88 to hnnt w^th Child Maurice ;

The Child
says 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 precyous 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 ! "
" ISTow be my troth," sayd Child Maurice, [page 348]
96 "& that shall not be I."

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 Iohn Steward,
100 I-wisse he neuer rest.

then hee pulled fforth his bright browne sword,

& dryed itt on his sleeue ;
& the ffirst good stroke Iohn 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 that Ladye ffaire
108 wheras this ladye Lyed ;

carries it on
his sword-
point to bis
wife,

VOL. II.

1 Only half the n in the MS.
L L

506

CHILDE MAURICE.

and tells her
to kiss it.

and sayes, "dost thou know Child Maurice Load

if that thou dost itt see ?
& lapp itt soft, & kisse itt offt,
112 ffor thou louedst him better then mee."

She says
he has
killed her
only child.

John
Steward
reproaches
his men for
not staying
him in his
wrath ;

but when shee looked on Child Maurice head,

shee 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 that wrath ?

'ae has slain
"ais wife and
uer son.

" ffor I haue slaine one of the curteouse[s]t Knights

that euer bestrode a steed!
soe haue I done one [of] the fairest Ladyes
124 that euer ware womans weede ! "

ffins.

507

P)tlll$ ])0tt

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.

'D"

ShEPARDES hoe ! Shepards hoe !
karkes how Phillis l calles thee ! La : La : La :
Philis hoe : Phillis hoe !
4 " shall I lose my Phillis ? noe, noe, noe ! "

" what ailes thee Shepard [that thou] looke soe sadd ? why are you

e 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, ffye ! Sheperds, fFye !

doe not wrong thy lasse, & noe cause whye." Ko > sUe is

" Phillis noe, Phillis noe !
12 but if shee proue light in loue, He let her goe."

thus wee poore mayds must beare the blame,

w7wck 2 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 ! Come and

look at her.

see ! the louely e lasse tripp's ore the lay."
" lett her goe ! lett her goe ! « Xot Xi let

20 neuer more shall my loue say mee noe. ; '

her go.

1 The first I is much like an s in the those of the MS. Before the first La
MS. The colons in lines 2 and 3 are Percy inserts hoe. — F. 2 while. - P.

i. i. 2

508

nilLLTS HOE.

She

wouldn't
kiss me I"

" ffye shepard ! 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 Iys. l "

Don't be
jealous,

" Ielous loue, Ielous loue,

herafter doth vnconstant proue."

" many ffind, 2 many ffind
28 women & their words are like the winde.

men sweare the loue, & do protest ;

but when a woman sweares, shee doth but lest.

who Iestes with loue, playes with a bayte
32 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,
36 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,
40 tho cuningly they coyne 3 a coy excuse."

"No, I'm not
such a fool.

We shep-
herds are as
coy as
kings."

" Haples shee, hapless shee
that doth loue 4 soe base a swaine as thee ! "
" happy e I, happye I :
44 that ffortune haue such ffolly for to fflye !
base minds to basenes still will fflee,
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."

1 noe Iwis. — P.

2 There is a tag to the d. — F.

8 MS. coyme.— F.

4 Three strokes for the u-

509

#uj) & Coldmintie : l

[In 3 Parts.— P.]

" Guy & Piiillis " is simply a resume, 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
sisn were needed. But indeed there is no lack of evidence of
his warm acceptance with the Middle Ages as well in foreign
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

1 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 Grui 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. Imperial e (MSS. de Colbert,
4289), Paris. There was a copy at Bruges in 1467, at Brussels
in 1487, as we learn from Barrois' account of the Librairies du
Fils du Eoi Jean Charles V., &c. (See Gruy de Warwick,
Abbotsford Club, Introduction.) This French work was com-
posed probably in the thirteenth centmy. Its composer may
possibly have been Walter of Exeter, as is stated by Carew in his
Survey of Cornwall. 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 Vitw, or Mirrour of Life, written about 1350, amongst
the popularities of the day :

I warne you firste at the begynnynge

That I will make no vayne carpynge

Of dedes of armes, ne of amours,

As does mynstellis & gestours,

That maketh carpynge in many a place

Of Octavione & 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. (apud Warton, II. Eng. P.)

GUY 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 Kegister of the Stationers' Company " A pleasante
songe of the valiant actes of Gray of Warwicke to the tune of Was
ever man so tost in love." This is the " Guy & 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 Eoxburghe Collections. The legend was after-
Avards 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 Gerard of Cornwall, printed by
Hearne in the Appendix to his edition of the Annates de Dn in-
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 Macray'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-Saxonum, 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 Kegistry 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, Canticum 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 Kitson points out, in the Eobert de Brunne's

translation with additions, made circ. 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 Guy'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 Romanorum, 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 Chronicon
de Eventibus Anglice ab anno 950 ad 1395, recounted the old
tale at full length. He introduces it with a sort of apology.
" Set quia historia dicti Guidonis," he writes, " cunctis seculis
laudabili memoria commendanda est, in presenti historia immiscere
curavi." Then he relates, with circumstances, how " Olavus rex
Dacise," " Golanus rex Norwegiae," and " dux Neustria?," 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, Colebrandnm
nomine, qui eo tempore fortissimus et elegantissimus reputabatur
in orhe," described subsequently as " diabolicse staturse," and by
Guy when he stands face to face with him as " non homo, immo
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 undertake the combat with the giant. " Fecit se armari
de melioribus armaturis regis, et cinxit se gladio Constantini [the
sword of Constantine the Great and the spear of Charlemagne
were among the presents given to Athelstan by Hugh, Duke of
the Franks] lanceamque sancti Mauricii in manu tulit." Then
the fight is described with extreme minuteness. Colbrand seems
overpowering till Gruy cuts off his sword-arm ; " Quod Dani
videntes, multum ex hoc contabuerunt, et Deos suos in Colu-
brandi adjutorum cum ejulatu magno invocare cceperunt." And
then comes the final scene in the hero's life.

In 1410, as Dugdale (Baron, i. 243) relates on the authority
of Rous, 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, then travelling in the Holy Land, " was
descended from the famous Guy 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 distinguish 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 Thomse Eudbourne
monachi Wintonensis " this amongst other passages : " Tertio
Ethelstani anno, duellum inter Colbrondum Danum & Guidonem
comitem de Warwik, extra borealem civitatis Wintoniensis pla-
gam, in loco qui modo Hidemede, olim Denmarsch appellatus est,
prope monasterium de Hida. Insigiram vero victorise servatur
sica praedicti Colbronde gigantis, cumqua truncatum erat ; caput
ejus a Guidone comite de Warwik in eccl. cathedrali Wintonise
usque in hodiernum diem. 1 Eudbourne describes the fight more
fully in his Historia Major Wintonensis (apud Wharton's Anglia
Sacra). There the " Eex Dacorum " is " Anelaf;" the scene of
the combat is Hyde Mede ; the " gigas " is " mirse longitudinis,
invisus, inhumanus ac non mala? meditationis ignarus." Lydgate,
contemporary with Eudbourne, versified the above-mentioned His-
toria Guidonis de Werwyhe just as Samuel Eowland, 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. 1 Eevised by one Lane, it was
licensed to be printed in 1617 (Harl. MSS. 5243), 1 but the licence
seems never to have been acted upon. Later on, in the latter
half of the fifteenth century, John Eous, appointed priest, or one
of the two priests, at the chapel at Guy's Cliff near Warwick
(erected, with a statue of Guy, by Richard Beauchamp in 1422),
" labored and finished " a " roll " (now in the Ashmolean Museum,
Oxford, numbered 839) containing a biography of him in whose
honour he held his office, for whose soul he offered daily prayers.
Dugdale pronounces him " a diligent searcher after antiquities,
and especially of this county," and one that " hath left behind
him divers n-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." Rous narrates as
sober facts the story of the romance :

Dame Felys, daughter and heireto Erie Rohand, for her beauty called
Eelyle belle, or Felys the fayre by true enheritance, was countesse
of Warwyke, and lady and wyfe to the most victoriouse Knight, Sir
Guy, to wkome in his woinge tyme she made greate straungenes, and
caused him for her sake, to put himself in meuy greate distresse, dangers
and peril! s ; but when they wer wedded and bn but a litle season
togither, he departed from her to her greate hevynes, and never was
conversaunt with her after, to her vnderstandinge ; and all the while she
kept her cleane and trew lady and wyf to him, devout to god ward, 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 Seyward,
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 Greke
lande, was maryed here, and had in this lande noble Saynct Patryke,
that converted Irelande to the Christian faythe. This worshipfull
Knight Sir Gy, in his actes of warre ever consydered what part ies had
wronge, and therto wold he draw, by which doinge his loos spred so

1 See Appendix at the end of this Introduction.

516 GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

farre that he 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 pilgrymeweede as hir
shewys, which rayment he kept to his 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 abyclinge 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 r Tyrry, w th 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 fall convenient you 1 y* it pleased som good
lord or lady to fynde in the same place ij. poore men that cowde help
a priest to singe, one of theim to be ther continually present, wearinge
his pil grime habyte, and to shew folke the place ; and their habitacion
mio'ht be full well sett over his cave in the rocke.

*o"

The story of Sir Guy then had evidently long before Eous's
time found a local habitation, both at Warwick and at Winchester.
Leland, in his Itinerary, says of Gibclife or Guycliffe : " Ould
Fame remaineth with the People there that Gnido Earl of
Warwike 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 River rowling over the stones with a praty
noyse, nemusculum ibidem opacum, fontes liquidi et gemmei,
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 AND 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, though,
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, Guy 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. George, 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 siug 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 dun-cow
Did, like 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 country, 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 COLEBKANDE.

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 Guy 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 thirteenth 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 mediaeval
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 be 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-

1 See Appendix at the end of this Introduction.

GUY AND COLEBRANDE. 519

braced extreme poverty, and resided in a but adjoining to a cburcb
dedicated to tbe Mother of God. Being after some time there dis-
covered to be a stranger of distinction, he returned home, and being
relieved 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.

Guy's wife-desertion then, and his severe asceticism, may be
later additions to his original story. There can be little doubt
that that original story belongs to a remote age, — possibly, as lias
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
the 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 Wynton] ; 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 — maybe identical with one Egils, " who did
in fact contribute very materially " to the victor)'. 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-
culty 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 Brunanburgh 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. Naturally
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 Guy,
treating of his son Ruisburn, of his tutor Heraud and his son.

Had. MS. 7333, fol. 35 b.

J>e ermyte with Lane litil spase By an Aungel his spirit to conveye

By dethe is past J>e Ende of his laboure Afftir his bodyly Besolyciouwe

Aftir whome G uy was \>er successoure For his meritis to J? e hevenely mansyoune

Space of twoo yere by grace of crist J>an in alle haste he sent his weddyng

Ihesu Byng

Dauntyng his fleshe by penaimce and Vn to his wyff of trewe Affecciouwe

Bygour Prayd her to come | And beo at his eonding

Ay more and more encressyng in vertev ^[ That she sholde doone J>ere hir besye

^[ God made him knowe b e daye J?' he cure

shold dyee As by A manor wyffly deligense

J>orowc his gracious vesitacioune In haste to ordeyne for his Cepulture

GUY AND COLEBRANDE.

521

With noo bret costc ne with no grete

dispence
Sheo hasted hir til sheo cam in presence
Wher i>at Guy lay dedly pale of face
Bespreynt with teeres knelyng with

Beufrence
be dede body Felyce did tlier inbrace
^[This notable & Famouse worthi knyght
Sent her to sayne bi his messagier
In J^ilke place to burye bym anoone

Eight
Wher that he lay to fore in A smal

Awter
And Afftir this doe> trewly hir deveyre
J>er for her selfe dysposyn and provide
Fyfftene dayes Folowyng J?e same jere
She to be buried J>ere by Guyes syde
*[] His holy wyf of al this toke good hede
Like as he badde and liste no longer

tarye
Tacquyte hir selfe of wyffly womanhede
For she was loi>° frome his desire to

varye
Sent in Al haste for J>e ordenarye
Wiche ocupied in bat dyosyse
She was not founde in oone poynt

contrarye
Eche thyng tacomplyshe / as ye have

herde devise
^[And alle )>is cronicle /For to conclude
At hes Exequyes old & younge of age
Of diufrse folke cam grete multitude
With grete devocioune vn to bat her-
mitage
Lyche A prywse with al be surplusage
j>ei tooke hym vppe/and leyde him in his

grave
Ordeynid of god be marcyal curage
Ageinst J>e Danys bis Begioune to saue
^[Whos sowle I truste restight nowe in

glorie

With holy Spiretis Above be Firmament
Felice his wyf callyng to her memorye
be daye gane neghe of her enterrement
To forne provided in her testament
Eeynborne beire heyre/ioustely to succede
By title of hir and lynealle discent
.beorldame of warwike trewly to possede
^be stok descendyng doune by be pee

dugree
To Guy his fadir by title of mariage
Afftir whos dethe/of lawo and equyte
Eeynborne to entre in to his Eritage
.Cleimeyng his Eyght/his moder of good

age
Habe yolde hir dette by dethe vnto

nature
By side her lorde in )>at Ermitage
Wiche eonded feyre was made hir

Sepulture
^[For to auctorise better bis matere
Whos translacioure shewebe be sentence
Oote of latyne made by be Cronniculier
Callid of olde Gyrard Cronubyence
Wiche whilome wrot with gret deligence
Dedis of hem in westesex crowned kynges
Gretly comendyng for kneyghtly ex-
cellence
Guy of werrewike in heos famouse

wreytingis
^[Of whos nobelesse ful gret hede he toke
His kneyghtly fame to putten in Ee-

memberavnse
be eleventbe chapitre/of his historialboke
J>e partite lyf be vertuouse gouernaunce
His wilfulle pouertee/harde ligginge and

penaunce
Al sent to me in Englisho to translate
If owght be wrong in metre or substance
Put al be wyte/for dulnesse ofi lydegate

Harkian MS. 5243, fol. 4.

To all heroical knightes, and illustrious
Ladies, both in Court, and Countrio
for virtewe, love, bewtie, chivalrie,
prowes, bowntie : & of other com-
pleate departmentes most eminent
and honorabl, John Lane in all
dutie wisheth gratious perfection to
feliciti