UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
AT LOS ANGELES
I
RELIQUES OF
nticnt i^Pn0li^lj S^Dttru,
CONSISTING OF
OLD HEROIC BALLADS. SONGS, AND OTHER
PIECES OF OUR EARLIER POETS,
TOGETHER WITH SOME FEW
OF LATER DATE,
l; V T H O M AS P E RC V. 1). 1).
BISHOP OF DROMORE.
EDITED, WITH A GENERAL INTRODUCTION, ADDITIONAL
PREFACES, NOTES, ETC., RY
HENRY B. WHEATLEY, F.S.A.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. in.
\ I ) () ^^
UICKIiRS AND SON, 1, LI'ICESTRR SQUARE.
1877.
n;M<*s
CHISWICK PRESS : C. WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT,
CHANCERY LANE.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME THE THIRD.
A Fragment
5-
6.
7.
8.
9-
10.
II.
12.
13-
14.
16.
»7-
18.
BOOK THE FIRST.
{Poems on King Arthur, (5^•r.)
HE Boy and the Mantle .
2. The Marriage of Sir Gawaine
3. King Ryence's Challenge
4. King Arthur's Deati
Copy from the Folio MS.
The Legend of King Arthur
A Dyttie to Hey Downe
Glasgerion ....
Old Robin of Portingale
Child Waters
Phillida and Corydon. By Nicholas Breton
Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard
The E\v-bughts, Marion. A Scottish Song .
The Knight, and Shepherd's Daughter.
The Shepherd's Address to his Muse. By N. Breton
Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor .
Cupid and Campaspe. By John Lilye
The I«ady turned Servingman
Gil [ChildJ Morrice. A Scottish Ballad
Copy from the Folio MS.
Page
3
13
24
27
35
39
44
45
50
58
66
68
74
76
80
82
85
86
91
100
JiUOK THE SECOND.
1. The Legend of Sir Guy
2. (iuy and Aniarant. By Samuel Rowlands
3. The Auld Good-.Man. A Scottish Song
107
114
122
VI
CONTENTS.
4. Fair Margaret and Sweet William
5. Barbara Allen's Cruelty ....
6. Sweet William's Ghost. A Scottish Ballad .
7. Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allen. A Scottish Ballad
8. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington
9. The Willow Tree. A Pastoral Dialogue
The Lady's Fall ......
Waly, Waly, Love be bonny. A Scottish Song
The Bride's Burial
Dulcina .......
The Lady Isabella's Tragedy
A Hue and Cry after Cupid. By Ben. Jonson
16. The King of France's Daughter .
17. The Sweet Neglect. By Ben. Jonson .
The Children in the Wood ....
A Lover of late was I .
The King and the Miller of Mansfield .
The Shepherd's Resolution. By George Wither
Queen Dido (or the Wandering Prince of Troy)
The Witches' Song. By Ben. Jonson .
Robin Good-fellow .....
The Fairy Queen .....
The Fairies Farewell. By Bishop Corbet .
10.
II.
12.
13-
14.
15
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23-
24.
25-
26.
Page
124
128
130
135
137
139
145
148
153
155
159
161
169
169
177
178
188
191
196
199
204
207
BOOK THE THIRD.
1. The Birth of St. George
2. St. George and the Dragon .
3. Love will find out the Way .
4. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet. A Scottish
5. Unfading Beauty. By Thomas Carew .
6. George Barnwell . . . .
7. The Stedfast Shepherd. By George Wither
8. The Spanish Virgin, or Effects of Jealousy
9. Jealousy Tyrant of the Mind. By Dryden
10. Constant Penelope ....
11. To Lucasta, on going to the Wars. By Col
12. Valentine and Ursine ....
13. The Dragon of Wantley
14. St. George for England.
15. St. George for England.
Grubb .....
16. Margaret's Ghost. By David Mallet
.17. Lucy and Colin. By Thomas Tickel
Ballad
The First Part
The Second Part
Lovelace
By John
215
224
232
234
239
240
253
255
260
261
264
265
279
288
293
308
312
CONTENTS. vii
Page
1 8. The Boy and the Mantle, as revised and altered by a
modern hand . . . . • 3^5
19. The ancient Fragment of the Marriage of Sir Gawaine . 323
APPENDIX.
I. The Wanton Wife of Bath
II. Essay on the Ancient Metrical Romances, &c. . 339
Glossary 377
Index .......... 411
RELIOUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.
SERIES THE THIRD.
BOOK I.
-=dSfc^
r,
'*An ordinary song or ballad, that is the delight of
the common people, cannot fail to please all such
readers, as are not unqualified for the entertainment by
their affectation or their ignorance; and the reason is
plain, because the same paintings of nature which recom-
mend it to the most ordinary reader, will appear beau-
tiful to the most refined." — Addison, m Spectator, No. 70.
POEMS ON KING ARTHUR, etc.
^-*Pr\ ^.i^^^HE tliird volume being chiefly devoted to romantic
^ '"^^ "^ subjects, may not be improperly introduced with
few slight strictures on the old metrical romances :
subject the more worthy attention, as it seems
not to have been known to such as have written
on the nature and origin of books of chivalry,
that the first compositions of this kind were in
verse, and usually sung to the harp.*
THE BOY AND THE MANTLE
^S printed verbatim from the old MS. described in the
T'rcf^cc.t The Editor believes it more ancient than it
will appear to be at first sight ; the transcriber of that
manuscript having reduced the orthography and style
in many instances to the stantlard of his own times.
The incidents of the Mantle and the Knife have not, that I can
recollect, been borrowed from any otiier writer. The former of
these evidently suggested to Spenser his conceit of F/orimcl^s
Girdle, b. iv. c. 5, st. 3.
[• See Appendix.
t Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. pp. -^oi-
4 THE BOY AND
" That girdle gave the virtue of chaste love
And wivehood true to all that did it beare ;
But whosoever contrarie doth prove,
Might not the same about her middle weare,
But it would loose or else asunder teare."
So it happened to the false Florimel, st. i6, when
" Being brought, about her middle small
They thought to gird, as best it her became,
But by no means they could it thereto frame,
For ever as they fastned it, it loos'd
And fell away, as feeling secret blame, «Scc.
That all men wondred at the uncouth sight
And each one thought as to their fancies came.
But she herself did think it done for spight,
And touched was with secret wrath and shame
Therewith, as thing deviz'd her to defame :
Then many other ladies likewise tride
About their tender loynes to knit the same,
- But it would not on none of them abide,
But when they thought it fast, eftsoones it was untide.
Thereat all knights gan laugh and ladies lowre,
Till that at last the gentle Amoret
Likewise assayed to prove that girdle's powre.
And having it about her middle set
Did find it fit withouten breach or let.
Whereat the rest gan greatly to envie.
But Florimel exceedingly did fret
And snatching from her hand," &c.
As for the trial of the Hoivie, it is not peculiar to our poet : it
occurs in the old romance, intitled Morte Arthur, which was
translated out of French in the time of K. Edw. IV., and first
printed anno 1484. From that romance Ariosto is thought to
have borrowed his tale of the Encha?itcd Cup, c. 42, &c. See Mr.
Warton's Observations on the Faerie Queen, &c.
The story of the Horn in Morte Arthur varies a good deal from
this of our poet, as the reader will judge from the following
extract : — " By the way they met with a knight that was sent from
Morgan la Faye to king Arthur, and this knight had a fair home
all garnished with gold, and the home had such a virtue, that there
might no ladye or gentlewoman drinke of that home, but if she
were true to her husband : and if shee were false she should spill
all the drinke, and if shee were true unto her lorde, shee might
drink peaceably : and because of queene Guenever and in despite
of Sir Launcelot du Lake, this home was sent unto king Arthur."
THE MANTLE. 5
This horn is intercepted and brought unto another king named
Marke, who is not a whit more fortunate than the British hero, for
he makes " his qeene drinke thereof and an hundred ladies moe,
and there were but foure ladies of all those that drank cleane,"
of which number the said queen proves not to be one (book ii.
chap. 22, ed. 1632).
In other respects the two stories are so different, that we have
just reason to suppose this ballad was written before that romance
was translated into English.
As for queen Guenever, she is here represented no otherwise
than in the old histories and romances. Holinshed observes,
that "she was evil reported of, as noted of incontinence and
breach of faith to hir husband " (vol. i. p. 93).
Such readers, as have no relish for pure antiquity, will find
a more modern copy of this ballad at the end of the volume.
[For Percy's further notes on this ballad see the modernized
version (book iii. No. 18). Professor Child prints the ballad in
his English and Scottish Ballads (vol. i. p. i) with a full notice of
the various forms of the story by way of introduction. He
writes : — " No incident is more common in romantic fiction than
the employment of some magical contrivance as a test of conjugal
fidehty, 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 properties that no
dishonoured husband or unfaithful wife can drink from it without
spilhng, or of a mantle which will fit none but chaste women.
The earliest known instances of the use of these ordeals are
afforded by the Lai du Corn, by Robert Bikez, a French minstrel
of the twelfth or thirteenth century, and the Fabliau du Mantel
ATautaillc, 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, Ucbcr die Lais, 327, sq., 342, sq.).
We are not to suppose, however, that either of these pieces pre-
sents us with the primitive form of this humorous invention. Robert
Bikez tells us that he Icarnetl 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."
Here follows a list of " the most remarkable cases of the use of
these and similar talismans in imaginative literature." To these
may be added the garland described in the curious old story of
the Wrights IVi/e, which has been printed since the publication of
Mr. Child's work.
" Hauc here thys garlond of roses ryche,
In allc thys lond ys none yt lyche ;
For ytt wylle euer be newe.
THE BOY AND
Wete ])0U wele withowtyn fable,
" Alle the whyle thy wyfe ys stable
The chaplett wolle hold hewe ;
And yf thy wyfe vse putry,
Or toUe eny man to lye her by,
Than wolle yt change hewe ;
And by the garlond fiou may see,
Fekylle or fals yf fat sche be,
Or ellys yf sche be trewe."
The Wrighfs Chaste Wife (E. E. Text See. 1865, 1. 55-66).]
N the third day of may,
To Carleile did come
A kind curteous child,
That cold^ much of wisdome.
5-
10
A kirtle and a mantle
This child had uppon,
With ' brouches' and ringes
Full richelye bedone.^
He had a sute of silke
About his middle drawne ;
Without he cold of curtesye
He thought itt much shame,
God speed thee, king Arthur,
Sitting at thy meate :
And the goodly queene Guenever, 15
I cannott her forgett.
I tell you, lords, in this hall ;
I hett^ you all to * heede' ;
Except you be the more surer
Is you for to dread. 20
Ver. 7. branches, MS. V. 18. heate, MS.
\} knew. 2 ornamented. ^ bid.]
THE MANTLE. 7
He plucked out of his ' poterner,''
And lonofer wold not dwell,
He pulled forth a pretty mantle,
Betweene two nut-shells.
Have thou here, king Arthur ; 25
Have thou heere of mee :
Give itt to thy comely queene
Shapen as itt is alreadye.
Itt shall never become that wiffe,
That hath once done amisse. 30
Then every knig^ht in the kings court
Began to care for ' his.'
Forth came dame Guenever ;
To the mantle shee her ' hied ' ;
The ladye shee was newfangle, 35
But yett shee was affrayd.
When shee had taken the mantle ;
She' stoode as shee had beene madd :
It was from the top to the toe
As sheeres had ftt shread. 40
One while was itt ' gule' ;"^
Another while was itt greene ;
Another while was itt wadded :^
111 itt did her beseeme.
Another while was it blacke 45
And bore the worst hue :
By my troth, quoth king Arthur,
I thinke thou be not true.
Ver. 21. jjotewer, MS. V. 32. his wififc, MS. V. 34, bilccl, MS.
V. 41. gaule, MS.
[' probably a pouch or bag, but there is no authority for tlic
word. ' red. ' light blue or woad coloured.]
8 THE BOY AND
Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee ;^ 50
Fast with a rudd^ redd,
To her chamber can^ shee flee.
She curst the weaver, and the walker,^
That clothe that had wrought ;
And bade a vengeance on his crowne, 55
That hither hath itt broueht.
I had rather be in a wood.
Under a greene tree ;
Then in king Arthurs court
Shamed for to bee. 60
Kay called forth his ladye.
And bade her come neere ;
Sales, Madam, and thou be guiltye,
I pray thee hold thee there.
Forth came his ladye 65
Shortlye and anon ;
Boldlye to the mantle
Then is shee gone.
When she had tane the mantle,
And cast it her about ; 70
Then was shee bare
' Before all the rout.'
Then every knight,
That was in the kings court.
Talked, laughed, and showted 75
Full oft att that sport.
[Ver. 72. all above the buttockes, MS.] V. 75. lauged, MS.
colour. 2 ruddy. ^ began. ■* fuller.]
THE MANTLE. 9
Shee threw downe the mantle.
That bright was of blee ;
Fast, with a red rudd,
To her chamber can^ shee flee. 80
Forth came an old knight
Pattering ore a creede,
And he proferred to this litle boy
Twenty markes to his meede ;
And all the time of the Christmasse 85
Willinglye to ffeede ;
For why this mantle might
Doe his wiffe some n^ed.
When she had tane the mantle,
Of cloth that was made, 90
Shee had no more left on her.
But a tassell and a threed :
Then every knight in the kings court
Bade evill might shee speed.
Shee threw downe the mantle, 95
That bright was of blee ;
And fast, with a redd rudd,
To her chamber can' shee flee.
Craddocke called forth his ladye.
And bade her come in ; 100
Saith, Winne this mantle, ladye,
With a litle dinne.
Winne this mantle, ladye,
And it shal be thine.
If thou never did amisse >os
Since thou wast mine.
\} began.]
lo THE BOY AND
Forth came Craddockes ladye
Shordye and anon ;
But boldlye to the mantle
Then is shee gone. no
When shee had tane the mantle,
And cast itt her about,
Upp att her great toe
It beofan to crinkle and crowt •}
Shee said, bowe downe, mantle, 115
And shame me not for nought.
Once I did amisse,
I tell you certainlye,
When I kist Craddockes mouth
Under a greene tree ; 120
When I kist Craddockes mouth
Before he marryed mee.
When shee had her shreeven,
And her sines shee had tolde ;
The mantle stoode about her 125
Right as shee wold :
Seemelye of coulour
Glittering like gold :
Then every knight in Arthurs court
Did her behold, j 130
Then spake dame Guenever
To Arthur our king ;
She hath tane yonder mantle
Not with right, but with wronge.
See you not yonder woman, 135
That maketh her self soe 'cleane'?
I have seene tane out of her bedd
Of men fiveteene ;
Ver. 134. Wright, MS. V. 136. cleare, MS.
\} draw close together, another form oi crowd.'\
THE MANTLE. ii
Priests, clarkes, and wedded men
From her bedeene:^ 140
Yett shee taketh the mantle,
And maketh her self cleane.
Then spake the litle boy,
That kept the mantle in hold ;
Sayes, king, chasten thy wiffe, 145
Of her words shee is to bold :
Shee is a bitch and a witch.
And a whore bold :
King, in thine owne hall
Thou art a cuckold. 150
The litle boy stoode
Looking out a dore ;
[And there as he was lookinge
He was ware of a wyld bore.]
He was ware of a wyld bore, 155
Wold Jiave werryed a man :
He pulld forth a wood kniffe.
Fast thither that he ran :
He brought in the bores head,
And quitted him like a man. 160
He brought in the bores head,
And was wonderous bold :
He said there was never a cuckolds kniffe
Carve itt that cold.
Some rubbed their knives 165
Uppon a whetstone :
Some threw them under the table,
And said they had none.
Ver. 140. by dcene, MS. [V, 151. a little Loy, MS. V. 152.
looking over. \'. 155-6. these two lines belong to the former
stanza.]
\} forthwith.]
12 THE BOY AND THE MANTLE.
King Arthur, and the child
Stood looking upon them ;
All their knives edges
Turned backe againe. 170
Craddocke had a litle knive
Of iron and of Steele ;
He britled^ the bores head J75
Wonderous weele ;
That every knight in the kings court
Had a morssell.
The litle boy had a home,
Of red gold that ronge : jSo
He said, there was noe cuckolde
Shall drinke of my home ;
But he shold it sheede"^
Either behind or beforne.
Some shedd on their shoulder, 185
And some on their knee ;
He that cold not hitt his mouthe,
Put it in his eye :
And he that was a cuckold
Every man might him see. 190
Craddocke wan the home.
And the bores head :
His ladie wan the mantle
Unto her meede.
Everye such a lovely ladye 195
God send her well to speede.
Ver. 170. them upon, MS. V. 175. w birtled, MS.
\} carved. ^ shed.]
MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE. 13
II.
THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE
;S chiefly taken from the fragment of an old ballad in the
Editor's MS., which he has reason to believe more
ancient than the time of C/iaiurr, and what furnished
that bard with his IFife of Bath's Tale. The original
was so extremely mutilated, half of every leaf being torn away,
that without large supplements, &c. it was deemed improper for
this collection : these it has therefore received, such as they are.
They are not here particularly pointed out, because the Fragment
itself will now be found printed at the end of this volume.
[Sir Frederic Madden supposed this ballad to be founded upon
the JVedihfige of Syr Gauien and Danic Ragncll, which he printed
from the Rawlinson MS. c. 86, fol. 12S b, in his Syr Ga-wainc.
Mr. Hales wTites as follows respecting the various forms in which
the stor)^ appears in literature. "The wonderful 'metamorphosis'
on which this story turns is narrated in Gower's Confcssio Aniantis,
as the story of Florent and the King of Sicily's Daughter, taken by
him, as Tyrwhitt conjectures, from the Gesta Romanoruvi, or some
such collection. It appears again, as the reader will remember, in
Chaucer's Wyf of Bathes Tale. 'Worked over,' says Prof. Child,
' by some ballad-monger of the sixteenth century, and of course
reduced to ditch-water, this tale has found its way into the Crown
Garland of Golden Roses, part i. p. 68 {Percy Society, vol. vi.), ' Of
a Knight and a Faire Virgin.' On a similar transformation depends
the story of ' King Henrie ' in Scott's Minstrelsy, edited from
Mrs. Brown's MS., with corrections from a recited fragment, and
modernized as ' Courteous King Jamie' in Lewis's Tales of JFonder.
' The prime original,' says Scott, ' is to be found in an Icelandic
Saga.' " •
Mr. Child prints (English and Scottish Ballads, vol. viii. p. 139)
two versions of a Scotch ballad entitled Konpy Kaye, which he
supposes to be an extravagant parody of The Marriage of Sir
Gatvaine.']
[* Percy folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 104.]
14 THE MARRIAGE OF
Part the First.
ING Arthur lives in merry Carleile,
And seemely is to see ;
And there with him queene Guenever,
That bride soe bright of blee/
And there with him queene Guenever, 5
That bride so bright in bowre :
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre.^
The king a royale Christmasse kept,
With mirth and princelye cheare ; 10
To him repaired many a knighte,
That came both farre and neare.
And when they were to dinner sette,
And cups went freely round ;
Before them came a faire damselle, 15
And knelt upon the ground.
A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthure,
I beg a boone of thee ;
Avenge me of a carlish knighte,
Who hath shent^ my love and mee. ?o
At Tearne-Wadling* his castle stands,
Near to that lake so fair,
And proudlye rise the battlements,
And streamers deck the air.
* Tearne- Wadling is the name of a small lake [in Inglewood
Forest] near Hesketh in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to
Carlisle. There is a tradition, that an old castle once stood near
the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible. Tar/?,
in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in
use. [" Tarn-Wadling . . . has been for the last ten years a wide
meadow grazed by hundreds of sheep." — J. S. Glennie, in Afac-
millmis Mag. Dec. 1867, p. 167, col. 2.]
[1 complexion. ^ strong. ^ abused.]
S/R GAIVAINE. 15
Noe gentle knighte. nor ladye gay, 25
May pass that castle-walle :
But from that foulc discurtcous knighte,
Mishappe will them befalle.
Hee's twyce the size of common men,
Wi' thewes, and sinewes stronge, 30
And on his backe he bears a clubbe,
That is both thicke and lonw.
O
This grimme barone 'twas our harde happe,
But yester morne to see ;
When to his bowre he bare my love, 35
And sore misused mee.
And when I told him, king Arthure
As lyttle shold him spare ;
Goe tell, sayd hee, that cuckold kinge,
To meete mee if he dare. 40
Upp then sterted king Arthure,
And sware by hillc and dale.
He ne'er wolde quitt that grimme barone.
Till he had made him quail.
Goe fetch my sword Excalibar : 4S
Goe saddle mee my steede ;
Nowe, by my faye, that grimme barone
Shall rue this ruthfulle deede.
And when he came to Tearne Wadlinge
Benethe the castle walle : 50
" Come forth ; come forth ; thou proude barone,
Or yielde thyself my thralle."
On magicke groundc that castk^ stoode.
And fenc'd with many a spcllc :
Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon, 55
But straite his courage felic.
i6 THE MARRIAGE OF
Forth then rush'd that carHsh' knight,
Kinof Arthur fehe the charme :
His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,
Downe sunke his feeble arme. 60
Nowe yield thee, yield thee, kinge Arthure,
Now yield thee, unto mee :
Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande,
Noe better termes maye bee,
Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood, 65
And promise on thy faye,
Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling,
Upon the new-yeare's daye ;
And bringe me worde what thing it is
All women moste desyre ; 70
This is thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes,
He have noe other hyre.
King Arthur then helde up his hande.
And sware upon his faye,^
Then tooke his leave of the grimme barone 75
And faste hee rode awaye.
And he rode east, and he rode west,
• And did of all inquyre.
What thing it is all women crave.
And what they most desyre. 80
Some told him riches, pompe, or state ;
Some rayment fine and brighte ;
Some told him mirthe ; some flatterye ;
And some a jollye knighte.
[1 churlish. 2 faith.]
S/J^ GAWAINE. ly
In letters all king Arthur wrote, 85
And sealVl them with his rino-e :
But still his minde was helde in double,
Each tolde a different thinore.
As ruthfulle he rode over a more,
He saw a ladye sette 90
Betweene an oke. and a greene holleye,
All clad in red* scarlette.
Her nose was crookt and turnd outwarde,
Her chin stoodc all awrye ;
And where as sholde have been her mouthe, 95
Lo ! there was set her eye :
Her haires, like serpents, clung aboute
Her cheekes of deadlye hewe :
A worse-form'd ladye than she was,
No man mote ever viewe. 100
To hail the king in seemelye sorte
This ladye was fulle faine ;
But king Arthure all sore amaz'd.
No aunswere made aeaine.
*&'
What wight art thou, the ladye sayd, 105
That wilt not speake to mee ;
Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine,
Though I be foule to see.
If thou wilt ease my painc, he sayd.
And hclpe me in my nccde ; no
Ask what thou wilt, thou grimme ladye,
And it shall bee thy meede.
* This was a common phrase in our old writers ; so Chaucer, in
his prologue to the Cant. Talcs, says of the wife of Ikith : —
" Her hoscn were of fyne scarlet red."
3 c
1 8 THE MARRIAGE OF
O sweare mee this upon the roode,
And promise on thy faye ;
And here the secrette I will telle, 115
That shall thy ransome paye.
King Arthur promis'd on his faye,
And sware upon the roode ;
The secrette then the ladye told,
As lightlye well shee cou'de. lao
Now this shall be my paye, sir king.
And this my guerdon bee,
That some yong fair and courtlye knight.
Thou bringe to marrye mee.
Fast then pricked king Arthure 125
Ore hille, and dale, and downe :
And soone he founde the barone's bowre :
And soone the grimme baroune.
He bare his clubbe upon his backe,
Hee stoode bothe stiffe and stronge; 130
And, when he had the letters reade,
Awaye the lettres flunge.
Nowe yielde thee, Arthur, and thy lands,
All forfeit unto mee ;
For this is not thy paye, sir king, 135
Nor may thy ransome bee.
Yet hold thy hand, thou proud barone,
I praye thee hold thy hand ;
And give mee leave to speake once more
In reskewe of my land. 140
This morne, as I came over a more,
I saw a ladye sette
Betwene an oke, and a greene holleye.
All clad in red scarlette.
SIR GAJVAINE. 19
Shee sayes, all women will have their wille, 14.5
This is their chief desyre ;
Now yield, as thou art a barone true,
That I have payd mine hyre.
An earlye vengeaunce light on her !
The carlish baron swore : 150
Shee was my sister tolde thee this.
And shee's a mishapen whore.
But here I will make mine avowe.
To do her as ill a turne :
For an ever I may that foule theefe gette, 155
In a fyre I will her burne.
Part the Seconde.
OMEWARDE pricked king Arthure,
And a wearye man was hee ;
And soone he mette queene Guenever,
That bride so bright of blee.
What newes ! what newes ! thou noble king, 5
Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped ?
Where hast thou hung the carlish knighte ?
And where bcstow'd his head ?
The carlish knight is safe for mee.
And free fro mortal harme : 10
On magicke grounde his castle stands,
And fenc'd with many a charme.
To bowe to him I was fulle faine,
And yielde mcc to his hand :
And but for a lotlily ladyc, there 15
I sholde have lost my land.
20 THE MARRIAGE OF
And nowe this fills my hearte with woe,
And sorrowe of my life ;
I swore a yonge and courtlye knight,
Sholde marry her to his wife. 20
Then bespake him sir Gawaine,
That was ever a gentle knighte :
That lothly ladye I will wed ;
Therefore be merrye and lighte.
Nowe naye, nowe naye, good sir Gawaine ; 25
My sister's sonne yee bee ;
This lothlye ladye's all too grimme.
And all too foule for yee.
Her nose is crookt and turn'd outwarde ;
Her chin stands all awrye ; 30
A worse form'd ladye than shee is
Was never seen with eye.
What though her chin stand all awrye,
And shee be foule to see :
I'll marry her, unkle, for thy sake, 35
And I'll thy ransome bee.
Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine ;
And a blessing thee betyde !
To-morrow wee'll have knights and squires,
And wee'll goe fetch thy bride. 4.0
And wee'll have hawkes and wee'll have houndes,
To cover our intent ;
And wee'll away to the greene forest.
As wee a hunting went.
Sir Lancelot, sir Stephen * bolde, 4.5
They rode with them that daye ;
And foremoste of the companye
There rode the stewarde Kaye :
[* Sir F. Madden remarks that Sir Stephen does not appear in
the Round Table Romances.]
S/R GAJVAINE. 21
Soe did sir Banier* and sir Bore,t
And eke sir Garratte \ keene ; 50
Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight,
To the forest freshe and greene.
And when they came to the greene forrest,
Beneathe a faire holley tree
There sate that ladye in red scarlette 55
That unseemelye was to see.
Sir Kay beheld that lady's face,
And looked upon her sweere ;*
Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes,
Of his kisse he stands in feare. 60
Sir Kay beheld that ladye againe,
And looked upon her snout ;
Whoever kisses that ladye, he sayes.
Of his kisse he stands in doubt.
Peace, brother Kay, sayde sir Gawaine, 65
And amend thee of thy life :
For there is a knight amongst us all,
Must marry her to his wife.
What marry this foule queane, quoth Kay,
r the devil's name anone ; 70
Gctt mee a wife wherever I maye,
In sooth shee shall be none.
Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste,
And some took up their houndes ;
And sayd they wolde not marry her, 75
For cities, nor for townes.
[* Perhaps intended for Bedver, the King's Constable, Tennyson's
Bcdivere, but more probably i'>an of 15enoyk, the brother of I'ors.
t Bors de (iaiives, or Gaunes.
I Gareth, or Gaherct, Sir Gawain's younger brother.
^ neck.]
22 THE MARRIAGE OF
Then bespake him king Arthure,
And sware there by this daye ;
For a Httle foule sighte and misHkinge,
Yee shall not say her naye. 80
Peace, lordings, peace ; sir Gawaine sayd ;
Nor make debate and strife ;
This lothlye ladye I will take,
And marry her to my wife.
Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine, 85
And a blessinge be thy meede !
For as I am thine owne ladye,
Thou never shalt rue this deede.
Then up they took that lothly dame,
And home anone they bringe : 90
And there sir Gawaine he her wed.
And married her with a ringe.
And when they were in wed-bed laid,
And all were done awaye :
" Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord 95
Come turne to mee I praye."
Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,
For sorrowe and for care ;
When, lo ! instead of that lothelye dame,
Hee sawe a young ladye faire. 100
Sweet blushes stayn'd her rud-red cheeke,
Her eyen were blacke as sloe :
The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe.
And all her necke was snowe.
Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady faire, 105
Lying upon the sheete :
And swore, as he was a true knighte,
The spice was never soe sweete.
SIR GAWAINE. 23
Sir Gawaine kiss'd that lady brighte,
Lying there by his side : no
" The fairest flower is not soe faire :
Thou never can'st bee my bride."
I am thy bride, mine owne deare lorde,
The same whiche thou didst knowe,
That was soe lothlye, and was wont 115
Upon the wild more to goe.
Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse, quoth shee,
And make thy choice with care ;
Whether by night, or else by daye,
Shall I be foule or faire ? 120
" To have thee foule still in the night,
When I with thee should playe !
I had rather farre, my lady deare,
To have thee foule by daye."
What \yhen gaye ladyes goe with their lordes 125
To drinke the ale and wine ;
Alas ! then I must hide myself,
I must not croe with mine ?
&
" My faire ladye, sir Gawaine sayd,
I yield me to thy skille ; 130
Because thou art mine owne ladye
Thou shalt have all thy wille."
Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gawaine,
And the daye that I thee see ;
For as thou seest nice at this time, 135
Soe shall I ever bee.
My father was an aged knightc,
And yet it chanced soe,
He tooke to wife a false ladye,
Whiche broughte me to tliis woe. 140
24 KING RYENCE'S CHALLENGE.
Shee witch'd mee, being a faire yonge maide,
In the greene forest to dwelle ;
And there to abide in lothlye shape,
Most like a fiend of helle.
Midst mores and mosses ; woods, and wilds ; 145
To lead a lonesome life :
Till some yong faire and courtlye knighte
Wolde marrye me to his wife :
Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape,
Such was her devilish skille ; 150
Until he wolde yielde to be rul'd by mee,
And let mee have all my wille.
She witchd my brother to a carlish boore,
And made him stiffe and stronge ;
And built him a bowre on magicke grounde, 155
To live by rapine and wronge.
But now the spelle is broken throughe,
And wronge is turnde to righte ;
Henceforth I shall bee a faire ladye,
And hee be a gentle knighte. 160
III.
KING RYENCE'S CHALLENGE.
^HIS song is more modern than many of those which
follow it, but is placed here for the sake of the subject.
It was sung before queene Elizabeth at the grand en-
tertainment at Kenelworth-castle in 1575, and was pro-
bably composed for that occasion. In a letter describing those
festivities, it is thus mentioned : " A Minstral came forth with a
sollem song, warranted for story out of K. Arthur's acts, whereof
I gat a copy, and is this :
" So it fell out on a Pentecost, &c."
KING RYENCE'S CHALLENGE. 25
After the song the narrative proceeds : " At this the Minstrell
made a pause and a curtezy for Primus Passus. More of the song
is thear, but I gatt it not."
The stor>' in Morte Arthur, whence it is taken, runs as follows :
'• Came a messenger hastely from king Ryence of North-Wales, —
saying, that king Ryence had discomfited and overcomen eleaven
kings, and everiche of them did him homage, and that was this :
they gave him their beards cleane flayne off. — wherefore the mes-
senger came for king Arthurs beard, for king Ryence had purfeled
a mantell with kings beards, and there lacked for one a place of
the mantell, wherefore he sent for his beard, or else he would enter
into his lands, and brenn and slay, and never leave till he have
thy head and thy beard. Well, said king Arthur, thou hast said
thy message, which is the most villainous and lewdest message that
ever man heard sent to a king. Also thou mayest see my beard is
full young yet for to make a purfell of, but tell thou the king that
— or it be long he shall do to me homage on both his knees, or
else he shall leese his head." [B. i. c. 24. See also the same
Romance, b. i. c. 92.]
The thought seems to be originally taken from Jeff. Monmouth's
Hist. b. X. c. 3. which is alluded to by Drayton in his Poly-Olb.
Song. 4 and by Spenser in Fact'. Qu. 6. i. 13. 15. See the Ob-
servations on Spenser, vol. ii. p. 223.
The following text is composed of the best readings selected
from three different copies. The first in Enderbie's Cambria
Triiiinp/ians, p. 197. The second in the Letter abovementioned.
And the third inserted in MS. in a copy oi Morte Arthur^ 1632, in
the Bodleian Library.
Stow tells us, that king Arthur kept his round table at "diverse
places, but especially at Carlion, Winchester, and Camalet in
Somersetshire." This Camald, sometimes a famous towne or
castle, is situate on a very high tor or hill," &c. (See an exact
description in Stowe's Annals, ed. 1631, p. 55.)
S it fell out on a Pentecost day,
Kinj^ Arthur at Camelot kept his court
royall,
With his fairc queene dame Guenever the
^'ay ;
And many bold barons sittini^ in hall ;
With ladies attired in purple and pall ; s
26 KING RYENCE'S CHALLENGE.
And heraults in hewkes,^ hooting on high,
Cryed, Largesse, Largesse^ Chevaliers tres-hardie.^
A doughty dwarfe to the uppermost deas^
Right pertlye gan pricke, kneeling on knee ;
With Steven^ fulle stoute amids ail the preas/ lo
Sayd, Nowe sir king Arthur, God save thee, and see!
Sir Ryence of North-gales^ greeteth well thee,
And bids thee thy beard anon to him send,
Or else from thy jaws he will it off rend.
For his robe of state is a rich scarlet mantle, 15
With eleven kings beards bordered f about,
And there is room lefte yet in a kantle,^
For thine to stande, to make the twelfth out :
This must be done, be thou never so stout ;
This must be done, I tell thee no fable, ao
Maugre^ the teethe of all thy round table.
When this mortal message from his mouthe past,
Great was the noyse bothe in hall and in bower :
The king fum'd ; the queene screecht ; ladies were
aghast ;
Princes puffd ; barons blustred ; lords began lower;
Knights stormed ; squires startled, like steeds in
a stower ; a6
Pages and yeomen yell'd out in the hall.
Then in came sir Kay, the ' king's' seneschal.
* Largesse, Largesse. The heralds resounded these words as oft
as they received of the bounty of the knights. See Memoir es de la
Chevalerie, torn. i. p. 99. — The expression is still used in the form
of installing knights of the garter.
t i. e. set round the border, as furs are now round the gowns of
Magistrates.
\} party-coloured coats. ^ (j^fs or upper table.
^ voice. ^ press. ^ North Wales.
^ corner. "^ in spite of.]
KING RYE NCR S CHALLENGE. 27
Silence, my soveralgnes, quoth this courteous knight,
And in that stound the stowre^ began still : 30
' Then' the dwarfe's dinner full deerely was dight ;"^
Of wine and wassel he had his wille :
And, when he had eaten and drunken his fill,
An hundred pieces of fine coyned gold
Were given this dwarf for his message bold. 35
But say to sir Ryence, thou dwarf, quoth the king,
That for his bold message I do him defye ;
And shortlye with basins and pans will him ring
Out of North-gales ; where he and I
With swords, and not razors, quickly shall trye, 40
Whether he, or king Arthur will prove the best
barbor :
And therewith he shook his good sword Excalabor.
^n ^^ ^^ ^i^ ^I^ ^^
tit Strada, in his Prolusions, has ridiculed the story of the
Giant's Mantle, made of the Beards of Kings.
IV.
KING ARTHUR'S DEATH.
A Fragment.
'HE subject of this ballad is evidently taken from the old
romance Mortc Arthur, but with some variations, espe-
cially in the concluding stanzas ; in which the author
seems rather to follow the traditions of the old Welsh
Bards, who believed that King Arthur was not dead, "but conveied
awaie by the Fairies into some pleasant place, where he should
j-emaine for a time, and then returne againe and reign in as great
\} that moment the tumult. '^ decked.]
28 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH.
authority as ever." Holinshed, b. 5, c. 14, or as it is expressed in
an old Chronicle printed at Antwerp 1493, by Ger. de Leew,
" The Bretons supposen, that he [K. Arthur]— shall come yet and
conquere all Bretaigne, for certes this is the prophicye of Merlyn :
He sayd, that his deth shall be doubteous ; and sayd soth, for men
thereof yet have doubte, and shuUen for ever more, — for men Avyt
not whether that he lyveth or is dede." See more ancient testi-
monies in Selden's Notes on Polyolbion, Song III.
This fragment being very incorrect and imperfect in the original
MS. hath received some conjectural emendations, and even a sup-
plement of three or four stanzas composed from the romance of
Morte Arthur.
[The two ballads here entitled King Arthur's Death and The
Legend of King Arthur are united in the FoHo MS. (ed. Hales and
Furnivall, vol. i. p.497)> but they are evidently two distinct songs.
The first ballad forms part ii. of the MS. copy, which has fourteen
verses at the end not printed here. The last four verses are
printed at the end of the next ballad. Percy has taken great
liberties with his original, and has not left a single line unaltered,
as will be seen by comparing it with the original printed at the
end. Additional lines are also interpolated which are now en-
closed within brackets, and it will be seen that these unnecessary
amplifications do not improve the effect of the poem. It will also
be seen that in vv. 41-44 the father and son of the original are
changed into uncle and nephew.
This last scene in the life of King Arthur is the most beautiful
and touching portion of his history, and the romancers and min-
strels were never tired of telling it in every form.
According to one tradition Arthur still sleeps under St. Michael's
Mount ("the guarded Mount" of Milton's Lycidas), and according
to another beneath Richmond Castle, Yorkshire.
Mr. Willmott, in his edition of the Reliques, writes, " according
to popular superstition in Sicily, Arthur is preserved alive by his
sister la Fata Morgana, whose fairy palace is occasionally seen
from Reggio in the opposite sea of Messina."]
*
N Trinitye Mondaye in the morne,
This sore battayle was doom'd to bee ;
Where manye a knighte cry'd, Well-awaye !
Alacke, it was the more pittie.
KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 29
Ere the first crowinge of the cocke, 5
When as the kinge in his bed laye,
He thoughte sir Gawaine to him came,*
And there to him these wordes did saye.
Nowe, as you are mine unkle deare,
And as you prize your hfe, this daye 10
O meet not with your foe in fighte ;
Putt off the battayle, if yee maye.
For sir Launcelot is now in Fraunce,
And with him many an hardye knighte :
Who will within this moneth be backe, 15
And will assiste yee in the fighte.
The kinge then call'd his nobles all,
Before the breakinge of the daye ;
And tolde them howe sir Gawaine came.
And there to him these wordes did saye. 20
His nobles all this counsayle gave,
That earlye in the morning, hee
Shold send awaye an herauld at amies,
To aske a parley faire and free.
Then twelve good knightes king Arthure chose, 25
The best of all that with him were :
To parley with the foe in field,
And make with him agreement faire.
t>
The king he charged all his hoste,
In readinesse there for to bee : 30
But noe man sholde noe weapon sturrc,
Unlesse a sword drawne they shold see
* Sir (Jawaine had Ijccn killed at Arthur's landing on his return
from abroad. Sec the next ballad, vcr. 73.
30 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH.
And Mordred on the other parte,
Twelve of his knights did Hkewise bringe ;
The beste of all his companye, 35
To hold the parley with the kinge.
Sir Mordred alsoe charged his hoste,
In readinesse there for to bee ;
But noe man sholde noe weapon sturre,
But if a sworde drawne they shold see. 40
For he durste not his unkle truste,
Nor he his nephewe, sothe to tell :
Alacke ! it was a woefulle case,
As ere in Christentye befelle.
But when they were together mette, 45
And both to faire accordance broughte ;
And a month's league betweene them sette,
Before the battayle sholde be foughte;
An addere crept forth of a bushe,
Stunge one o' th' king's knightes on the knee : 50
Alacke ! it was a woefulle chance,
As ever was in Christentie.
When the knighte found him wounded sore,
And sawe the wild-worme^ hanginge there ;
His sworde he from his scabberde drewe ; 55
A piteous case as ye shall heare.
For when the two hostes sawe the sworde,
They joyned battayle instantlye ;
Till of soe manye noble knightes,
On one side there were left but three. 60
[Ver. 41, 42, the folio MS. reads father . . . sonne.
^ serpent.]
KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 31
For all were slain that durst abide,
And but some fewe that fled awaye :
Ay mee ! it was a bloodye fielde,
As ere was foughte on summer's daye.
Upon king Arthur's own partye, 65
Onlye himselfe escaped there,
And Lukyn duke of Gloster free,
And the kinor's butler Bedevere.
CD
And when the king beheld his knightes.
All dead and scattered on the molde ; 70
[The teares fast trickled downe his face ;
That manlye face in fight so bolde.
Nowe reste yee all, brave knights, he said,
Soe true and faithful to your trust :
And must yee then, ye valiant hearts, 75
Be lefte to moulder into dust !
Most loyal have yee been to mee.
Most true and faithful unto deathe :
And, oh ! to rayse yee up againe.
How freelye could I yield my breathe !] 80
But see the traitor's yet alive,
Lo where hee stalkes among the deade !
Nowe bitterlye he shall abye:^
And vengeance fall upon his head.
O staye, my liege, then sayd the duke; 85
O staye for love and charitie ;
[Remember what the vision spake.
Nor meete your foe, if it may bee.
[' pay for or expiate]
32 . KING ARTHUR'S DEATH.
O, staye mee not, thou worthye wight,
This debt my loyal knights I owe : 90
Betide me life, betide me death,
I will avenge them of their foe.]
Then straite he grasp'd his trustye speare,
And on his horse then mounted hee :
As his butler holpe him to his horse, 95
His bowels gushed to his knee.
Alas ! then sayd the noble king.
That I should live this sight to see !
To see this good knight here be slaine,
All for his love in helping mee ! 100
He put his speare into his reste,
And to sir Mordred loud gan crye ;
[Nowe sette thyself upon thy guarde,
For, traitor, nowe thy death is nye.
Sir Mordred lifted up his sworde, 105
And fierce to meet the king ran hee :]
The king his speare he through him thrust ;
A fathom thorow his bodie.
When Mordered felt the stroke of death.
And found that he was wounded soe ; no
He thruste himselfe upon the speare,
And strucke the king a deadlye blowe.
Then grimmlye dyed sir Mordered,
Presentlye upon that tree :
And bloody streames ranne from the kinge ns
Ere to the duke returned hee.
Sir Lukyn then he thus bespake,
Sir knighte, thou hast beene faithfulle tryde,
Nowe take my sword Excalibar,*
That hangs so freelye by my syde : 120
* More commonly called, Caliburn. In the folio MS. Escall-
berd. [Percy notes in the MS. that "Caliburn was presented a.d.
KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. ^
O take my sword Excalibar,
And there into the river throwe :
For here, henceforth, benethe this tree,
All use of weapons I foregoe.
[And fare thee well, thou trustye sword, 125
A better neer had valiant knighte,
With thee full ofte, and manye a daye,
Have I withstood my foe in fighte.
With this good fauchion in my hande,
Oft have I reapd the bloody feelde : 130
But nowe the fatalle houre is come,
That never more I may thee weelde.]
The duke to the river side he went,
And there his owne sword in threwe he :
But he kept back Excalibar, 135
He kept it back in privitie.
[For all of coleyne* was the blade ;
And all the hilte of precious stone :
And ever alacke ! then sayd the knighte.
Must such a sword awaye be throwne ?] 140
Then backe he came unto the kinge.
Who sayd, Sir Lukyn, what did yee see ?
Nothing, my liege, save that the winde
Blewe oer the waters faire and free.
O goe againe, then said the kinge, 145
C3 good sir Lukyn, goe againe :
Into the rivere throwe my sword,
Nor keepe me lingering here in paine.
1 191 to Tancrcd, King of Sicily, by our King Richard I. See
Rapin, vol. i."
^ Cologne steel.]
3 D
34 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH.
The duke then to the river went,
And the kings scabberd in threwe hee ;
But hee kept backe ExcaHbar,
And hid it undernethe a tree.
ISO
Then backe he came to tell the kinge,
Who sayde, Sir Lukyn sawe ye oughte ?
Nothinge, my liege, save that the winde 155
Nowe with the angrye waters fought.
O Lukyn, Lukyn, said the kinge,
[Twice haste thou dealt deceytfullye :
Alacke, whom may wee ever truste.
When suche a knighte soe false can bee ? 160
Saye, wouldst thou have thy master dead ;
All for a sword, that wins thine eye :
Nowe goe againe, and throwe it in,
Or here the one of us shall dye.]
The duke, all shent with this rebuke, 165
No aunswere made unto the kinge :
But to the rivere tooke the sworde.
And threwe it far as he coulde flinge.
A hande and an arme did meete the sworde,
And flourishd three times in the air ; 170
[Then sunke benethe the renninge streme.
And of the duke was seene noe main
All sore astonied stood the duke ;
He stood as still, as still mote bee :]
Then hastend backe to telle the kinge ; 175
But he was eone from under the tree.
<=.'
But to what place he cold not tell.
For never after hee did him spye
Ver. 178, see MS.
KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 35
But hee sawe a barge goe from the land,
And hee heard ladyes howle and crye*. iSo
And whether the kinge were there, or not,
Hee never knewe, nor ever colde :
[For from that sad and direfulle daye,
Hee never more was seene on molde.]
HE following forms Part II. of a ballad entitled King
Arthur's Death, in the folio MS. ed. Hales and Furni-
vall, vol. i. p. 501.
but vpon a Monday after Trinity Sonday
this battaile foughten cold bee,
where many a Knight cryed well-away !
alacke, the more pittye !
but vpon Sunday in the euening then, 5
when the King in his bedd did Lye,
he thought Sir Gawaine to him came,
& thus to him did say :
" Now as you are my vnckle deere,
I pray you be ruled by mee, lo
doe not fight as to-morrow day,
but put the battelle of if you may ;
" for Sir Lancelott is now in france,
& many Knights with him full hardye,
& with-in this Month here hee wilbe, 15
great aide wilbe to thee."
• Not unlike that passage in Virgil.
" Summoque ulularunt vertice nymphoe."
Ladies was the word our old English writers used for Nymphs :
As in the following lines of an old song in the lulitor's folio MS.
" When scorching Phcjcbus he did mount,
Then Lady Venus went to hunt :
To whom Diana did resort.
With all the Ladyes of hills, and valleys
Of springs, and tloodes, diic.
36 KING ARTHUR'S DEATH.
hee wakened forth of his dreames ;
to his Nobles that told hee,
how he thought Sir Gawaine to him came,
& these words sayd Certainly. ao
& then the gaue the King councell all,
vpon Munday Earlye
that hee shold send one of his heralds of armes
to parle with his sonne, if itt might bee.
& 1 2 knights King Arthur chose, 25
the best in his companye,
that they shold goe to meete his sonne,
to agree if itt cold bee.
& the King charged all his host
in readynesse for to bee, 30
that Noe man shold noe weapons stur
with-out a sword drawne amongst his Knights the see.
& Mordred vpon the other part,
1 2 of his Knights chose hee
that they shold goe to meete his father 35
betweene those 2 hosts fayre & free.
& Mordred charged his ost
in like mannor most certainely,
that noe man shold noe weapons sturr
with-out a sword drawne amongst them the see ; 40
\ for he durst not his father trust,
nor the father the sonne certainley.
Alacke ! this was a woefuU case
as euer was in christentye !
but when they were mett together there, ^ 45
& agreed of all things as itt shold bee,
& a monthes League then there was
before the battele foughten shold bee,
an Adder came forth of Bush,
stunge one of king Arthirs Knights below his knee 3 50
alacke ! this was a woefull chance
as euer was in christentye !
the Knight he found him wounded there,
& see the wild worme there to bee ;
his sword out of his scabberd he drew ; 55
alas ! itt was the more pittye !
KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. Z7
& when these 2 osts saw they sword drawen,
the Io)Tied battel! certainlye,
Till of a 100 : 1000 : men
of one side was left but 3. 60
but all were slaine that durst abyde,
but some awaye that did flee.
King Arthur vpon his owne partye
himselfe aliue cold be,
& Lukin the Duke of Gloster, 65
& Bedever his Butler certainlye
the King looked about him there
& saw his Knights all slaine to bee ;
" Alas ! " then sayd noble King Arthur
" that ever this sight 1 see ! 7°
to see all my good Knights lye slaine,
& the traitor yett aliue to bee !
loe where he leanes vpon his sword hillts
amongst his dead men certainlye !
I \\\\\ goe slay him att this time ; 75
neuer att better advantage I shall him see."
" Nay ! stay here, my Leege ! " then said the Duke,
for loue and charitye !
for wee haue the battell woone,
for yett aliue we are but 3 : " 80
the king wold not be perswaded then,
but his horsse then mounted hee ;
his Butler [that] helped him to horsse,
his bowells gushed to his knee.
" Alas !" then said noble king Arthur, 85
" that this sight I euer see,
to see this good knight for to be slaine
for loue for to hclpe mec ! "
he put his speare into his rest,
& att his Sonne he ryd feirclye, 90
& through him there his speare he thrust
a fatham thorrow his body.
the Sonne he felld him wounded there,
& knew his death then to bee ;
he thrust himselfe vpon his speare, 95
& gaue his father a wound certainlye.
iliji/H')
38 KING ARTHURS DEATH.
but there dyed Sir Mordred
presently vpon that tree.
but or ere the King returned againe,
his butler was dead certainlye. loo
then bespake him Noble King Arthur,
these were the words sayd hee,
sayes *' take my sword Escalberd
from my side fayre & free,
& throw itt into this riuer heere ; 105
for all the vse of weapons lie deliuer vppe,
heere vndemeath this tree."
the Duke to the riuer side he went,
& his sword in threw hee ;
& then he kept Escalberd, "o
I tell you certainlye ;
& then he came to tell the King,
the king said, " Lukin what did thou see?"
noe thing, my leege," the[n] sayd the duke,
" I tell you certainlye." "5
" O goe againe," said the king
' for loue & charitye,
& throw my sword into that riuer,
that neuer I doe itt see."
the Duke to the riuer side he went, 1 20
& the kings scaberd in threw hee ;
& still he kept Escalberd
for.vertue sake faire & free.
he came againe to tell the King ;
the King sayd, " Lukin what did thou see?" 125
" nothing my leege," then sayd the Duke,
" I tell you certainlye."
" O goe againe Lukin," said the King,
or the one of vs shall dye."
then the Duke to the riuer sid went, i3<^
& then Kings sword then threw hee :
A hand & an anrie did meete that sword,
& flourished 3 times certainlye
he came againe to tell the King,
but the king was gone from vnder the tree 135
KING ARTHUR'S DEATH. 39
but to what place, he cold not tell,
for neuer after hee did him see,
but he see a barge from the land goe,
& hearde Ladyes houle & cry certainlye ;
but whether the king was there or noe 140
he knew not certainlye.
the Duke walked by that Riuers side
till a chappell there found hee,
& a preist by the aulter side there stood.
the Duke kneeled downe there on his knee 145
&: prayed the preists, " for Christs sake
the rights of the church bestow on mee ! "
for many dangerous wounds h^ had vpon him
&: liklye he was to dye.
& there the Duke lined in prayer 150
till the time that hee did dye.
King Arthur lined King 22 yeere
in honor and great fame,
& thus by death suddenlye 155
was depriued from the same.
ffins.]
V.
THE LEGEND OF KING ARTHUR.
n^nP^^E have here a short summary of K. Arthur's History
IlWvt^ as given by Jeff, of Monmouth and the old chronicles,
^yf >//^j with the addition of a few circumstances from the ro-
mance Morte Arthur. — The ancient chronicle of Ger.
de Leew (quoted above in p. 28), seems to have been chiefly
followed : upon the authority of which we have restored some of
the names which were corrupted in the MS. and have transjjosed
one stanza, which a[)i)eared to be misplaced, {viz. that beginning
at ver. 49, which in the MS. followed vcr. 36.)
Printed from the Editor's ancient folio Manuscrijjt.
- [This ballad as previously stated is the first part of the poem in
the MS. and j>recedes the one here printed before it. Percy made
comparatively few alterations in this part and all of them are now
noted at the foot of the page.]
40 THE LEGEND OF
F Brutus' blood, in Brlttaine borne,
King Arthur I am to name ;
Through Christendome, and Heathynesse,^
Well knowne is my worthy fame.
In Jesus Christ I doe beleeve ; 5
I am a christyan bore •?'
The Father, Sone, and Holy Gost
One God, I doe adore.
In the four hundred ninetieth yeere,
Over Brittaine I did rayne, 10
After my savior Christ his byrth :
What time I did maintaine
The fellowshipp of the table round,
Soe famous in those dayes ;
Whereatt a hundred noble knights, 15
And thirty sat alwayes :
Who for their deeds and martiall feates,
As bookes done yett record.
Amongst all other nations
Wer feared throwgh the world. 20
And in the castle off TyntagilP
King Uther mee begate
Of Agyana a bewtyous ladye,
And come of " hie " estate.
Ver. I. Bruite his, MS. [V. 6. borne, MS.] V. 9. He began
his reign a.d. 515, according to the Chronicles. [V. 16. sit, MS.
V. 19. all nations, MS.] V. 23. She is named Igerna in the old
Chronicles. V. 24. his, MS.
[^ heathendom, ^ born.
^ pronounced " Tintadgell;" the remains of the castle still exist
on the north coast of Cornwall.]
KING ARTHUR. 41
And when I was fifteen yeere old, 25
Then was I crowned kin^e :
All Brittainc that was att an uprore,
I did to quiett bringe.
And drove the Saxons from the realme,
Who liad opprest this land ; 30
All Scotland then throu<^he manly feats
I conquered with my hand.
Ireland, Denmarke, Norway,
These countryes wan I all ;
Iseland, Gotheland, and Swethland ; 35
And made their kings my thrall.
I conquered all Gallya,
That now is called France ;
And slew the hardye Froll in feild
INIy honor to advance. 40
And the ugly gyant Dynabus
Soe terrible to vewe,
That in Saint Barnards mount did lye,
By force of amies I slew :
And Lucyus the emperour of Rome 4S
I brought to deadly wracke ;
And a thousand more of noble kni^htes
For feare did turne their backe :
Five kinges of " paynims " ' I did kill
Amidst that bloody strife ; 50
Besides the Grecian emperour
Who alsoe lost his liffe.
[Ver. 31-2. And then I conquered througe manly feats,
All Scottlande with my hands, MS. J
V. 39. Froland fcild, MS. I'Voll, according to the Chronicles, was
a Roman knight governor of (iaul. V. 41. Danibus, MS. V. 49.
of Pavyc, MS. [V. 49-52. this stanza occurs after v. 36 in the MS. J
[' Pagans.]
42 THE LEGEND OF
Whose carcasse I did send to Rome
Cladd poorlye on a beere ;
And afterward I past Mount- Joye 55
The next approaching yeere.
Then I came to Rome, where I was mett
Right as a conquerour,
And by all the cardinalls solempnelye
I was crowned an emperour. 60
One winter there I made abode :
Then word to mee was brought
How Mordred had oppressd the crowne :
What treason he had wrought
&
Att home in Brittaine with my queene ; 65
Therfore I came with speede
To Brittaine backe, with all my power,
To quitt that traiterous deede :
70
And soone at Sandwiche I arrivde,
Where Mordred me withstoode :
But yett at last I landed there,
With effusion of much blood.
For there my nephew sir Gawaine dyed,
Being wounded in that sore.
The whiche sir Lancelot in fight 75
Had given him before.
Thence chased I M ordered away.
Who fledd to London right,
From London to Winchester, and
To Cornewalle tooke his flyght. 80
[Ver. 69. and when at Sandwich I did land. V. 74. on that.
V. 75. that Sir Lancelott. V. 80. he tooke. MS.]
KING ARTHUR. 43
And still I him pursued with speed
Till at the last we mett :
Whereby an appointed day of fight
Was there agreed and sett.
Where we did fight, of mortal life 85
Eche other to deprive,
Till of a hundred thousand men
Scarce one was left a live.
90
There all the noble chivalrye
Of Brittaine tooke their end.
O see how fickle is their state
That doe on feates depend !
There all the traiterous men were slaine
Not one escapte away ;
And there dyed all my vallyant knightes. 95
Alas ! that woefull day !
Two and tvventy yeere I ware the crowne
In honor and great fame ;
And thus by death was suddenlye
Deprived of the same. 100
[Ver. S3. Wherby appointed. V. 84. was agreed. V. 85-6.
Where wee did fight soe mortallye
Of live eche other to deprive.
V. 92. upon.] V. 92. perhaps fates. [V. 96 is the end of the first
part in the i^IS., the stanza
King Arthur lived King 22 yeere
in honor and great fame
and thus by death suddenlye
was deprived from the same
£nds the second part, which is printed by Percy as King Arthur's
death, see jjrevious ballad.]
44 A DYTTIE TO HEY DOVVNE.
VI.
A DYTTIE TO HEY DOWNE.
Copied from an old MS. in the Cotton Library [British Museum]
(Vesp. A. XXV. fol. 170), intitled, "Divers things of Hen. viij's
time."
I HO sekes to tame the blustering winde,
Or causse the floods bend to his wyll,
Or els against dame nature's kinde
To " change " things frame by cunning
skyll :
That man I thinke bestoweth paine, s
Thoughe that his laboure be in vaine.
Who strives to breake the sturdye Steele,
Or goeth about to staye the sunne ;
Who thinks to causse an oke to reele,
Which never can by force be done : 10
That man likewise bestoweth paine,
Thoughe that his laboure be in vaine.
Who thinks to stryve against the streame,
And for to sayle without a maste ;
Unlesse he thinks perhapps to faine, is
His travell ys forelorne and waste ;
And so in cure of all his paine,
His travell ys his cheffest gaine.
So he lykewise, that goes about
To please eche eye and every eare, 20
Had nede to have withouten doubt
A golden gyft with hym to beare ;
For evyll report shall be his gaine,
Though he bestowe both toyle and paine.
* Ver. 4. causse, MS.
A DYTTIE TO HEY DOWNE. 45
God grant eche man one to amend ; 25
God send us all a happy place ;
And let us pray unto the end,
That we may have our princes grace :
Amen, Amen ! so shall we gaine
A dewe reward for all our paine. 30
VII.
GLASGERION.
'N ingenious Friend thinks that the following old Ditty
(which is printed from the Editor's folio MS.) may
possibly have given birth to the Tragedy of the Orphan,
in which Polidore intercepts Monimia's intended favours
to Castalio.
See what is said concerning the hero of this song, (who is cele-
brated by Chauar under the name of Glaskyrioii) in the Essay
affixed to vol. i. note H. pt. iv. (2).
[The hero of this ballad is the same as "gret Glascurion," placed
by Chaucer in the House of Fame by the side of Orpheus, and also
associated with Orpheus by Gawain Douglas in the Palice of Honour.
Percy's note in the Folio MS. is " It was not necessary to correct
this much for the press ;" (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 246).
It will be seen, however, by the collations at the foot of the page
that several corrections were made, not always for the better. Thus
ver. 96, " who did his ladye grieve," is certainly weaker than the
original, —
" And asked noe man noe leave."
Jamieson (^Popular Ballads, 1806, vol. i. p. 91) prints an inferior
version under the name of Glcukindie. Mr. Hale points out, how-
ever, that " the Scotch version is more perfect in one point — in the
test question put to the page before the a.ssignation is disclosed to
him : —
' O mith I tell you, Gib my man,
Gin I a man had slain?'
Some such question perhaps would give more force to vv. 85-88 of
our version." He also very justly observes, " perhajjs there is no
ballad that represents more keenly the great gulf fixed between
churl and noble — a profounder horror at the crossing over it."J
46 GLASGERION.
LASGERION was a kings owne sonne,
And a harper he was goode :
He harped in the kinges chambere,
Where cuppe and candle stoode.
And soe did hee in the queens chamber, s
Till ladies waxed " glad."
And then bespake the kinges daughter ;
And these wordes thus shee sayd.
Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,
Of thy striking doe not blinne •} lo
Theres never a stroke comes oer thy harpe,
But it glads my hart withinne.
Faire might he fall,^ ladye, quoth hee,
Who taught you nowe to speake !
f I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere 15
^ My minde I neere durst breake.
But come to my bower, my Glasgerion,
When all men are att rest :
As I am a ladie true of my promise,
Thou shalt bee a welcome guest. 20
Home then came Glasgerion,
A glad man, lord ! was hee.
And, come thou hither, Jacke my boy;
Come hither unto mee.
For the kinges daughter of Normandye 25
Hath granted mee my boone :
And att her chambere must I bee
Beffore the cocke have crowen.
[Ver. 4. where cappe and candle yoode, MS.] V. 6. wood,
MS. [V. 8. sayd shee, MS. V. 9. saide, strike. V. 11. over
this. V. 13. you fall. V. 15. 7 yeere. V. 16. my hart I durst
neere breake. V. 21. but whom then. V. 24. her love is granted
mee.]
\} cease. ^ well may be thine.]
GLASGERION. 47
O master, master, then quoth hee,
Lay your head downe on this stone : 30
For I will waken you, master deere,
Afore it be time to gone.
But up then rose that lither^ ladd,
And hose and shoone did on :
A coller he cast upon his necke, 3S
Hee seemed a gentleman.
And when he came to the ladies chamber,
He thrild upon a pinn.*
The lady was true of her promise,
Rose up and lett him in. 40
He did not take the lady gaye
To boulster nor to bed :
" Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille,
" A sinpfle word he sed."
[Ver. 29. but come you hither Master, quoth he. V. 34. and
did on hose and shoone. V. 42. nor noe bed. V. 43-4.
but do^vne upon her chamber flora
full soone he hath her layd.]
* This is elsewhere expressed ^'- twirled the pin" or " tiried at
the pin" (see b. ii. s. vi. v. 3.) and seems to refer to the turning
round the button on the outside of a door, by which the latch
rises, still used in cottages.
[The explanation given by Percy in this note is an unfounded
guess. The Risp or tirling jjin was very generally used in the
north to do the duty afterwards performed by the knocker. There
are several of these curious contrivances in the Antiquarian
Museum at Edinburgh, and they are described by D. Wilson in
his Memorials of Edinlniri^h in the Olden Time, as follows, —
" These antique precursors of the knocker and bell are still fre-
quently to be met with in the sleep turnpikes of the Old Town,
notwithstanding the cupidity of the Anti(jiiarian collectors. The
ring is drawn up and down the notched iron rod and makes a very
audible noise within." (1848, vol. i. j). 97).]
\} wicked.]
48 GLASGERION.
He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe, 45
Nor when he came, nor youd •}
And sore mistrusted that ladye gay,
He was of some churls bloud.
But home then came that lither ladd,
And did off his hose and shoone ; 50
And cast the coller from off his necke :
He was but a churles sonne.
Awake, awake, my deere master,
[The cock hath well-nigh crowen.
Awake, awake, my master deere,] 55
I hold it time to be gone.
For I have saddled your horsse, master,
Well bridled I have your steede :
And I have served you a good breakfast :
For thereof ye have need. 60
Up then rose, good Glasgerion,
And did on hose and shoone ;
And cast a coller about his necke :
For he was a kinge his sonne.
And when he came to the ladyes chamber, 65
He thrild upon the pinne :
The ladye was more than true of promise.
And rose and let him in.
Sales, whether have you left with me
Your bracelett or your glove ? 70
Or are you returned backe againe
To know more of my love ?
[Ver, 45. that lady gay. Ver. 46. when he came nor when he
youd. V. 51. that coller from about. V. 53. awaken quoth hee
my master deere. V. 54-5. not in MS. V. 59. have not I served a.
V. 60. when times comes I have need. V. 61. but up. V. 64. he
was a kinges sonne. V. 65. that ladies. V. 66. upon a. V. 68.
rose up and. V. 71. you are. MS]
\} went.]
GLASGERION. 49
Glasgerion swore a full great othe,
By oake, and ashe, and thorne ;
Lady, I was never in your chamber, 75
Sith the time that I was borne.
O then it was your lither foot-page,
He hath beguiled mee.
Then shee pulled forth a little pen-kniffe,
That hanged by her knee : 80
Sayes, there shall never noe churles blood
Within my bodye spring :
[No churles blood shall ever defile
The daughter of a kinge.]
Home then went Glasgerion, 85
And woe, good lord, was hee.
Sayes, come thou hither, Jacke my boy,
Come hither unto mee.
If I had killed a man to night,
Jacke, I would tell it thee : 90
But if I have not killed a man to night
Jacke, thou hast killed three.
And he puld out his bright browne sword,
And dryed it on his sleeve,
And he smote off that lither ladds head, 95
Who did his ladye grieve.
He sett the swords poynt till his brest,
The; pummil until! a stone :
Throw the falsenesse of that lither ladd,
These three lives werne all gone. 100
Vcr. 77. litle, MS. [V. 78. falsly hath. V. 79. and then. V. 82.
spring within my body. V. 83-4. not in MS. V. 85. but home
then. V. 86. a woe man good was hee. V. 87. come hither thou.
V. 88. f.ome thou. V. 89. ffor if. V. 96. and asked noe man noe
leave. V. 98. till a. MS.J
3 ^
50
OLD ROBIN OF
VIII.
OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE.
) ROM an ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS. which
was judged to require considerable corrections.
In the former edition the hero of this piece had been
called Sir Robin, but that title not being in the MS. is
now omitted.
Giles, steward to a rich old merchant trading to Portugal, is
qualified with the title of Sir, not as being a knight, but rather,
I conceive, as having received an inferior order of priesthood.
[Percy's note in the MS. is as follows, " When I first set to
examine this I had not yet learnt to hold this old MS. in much
regard." Every line is altered, so that it has been necessary to add
'a copy of the original, although the interest of the ballad itself is
not very great. Percy's most notable correction is the introduction
of 20 good knights to help Robin against his wife's twenty-four
traitors.]
ET never again soe old a man
Marrye soe yonge a wife,
As did old Robin of Portingale ;
Who may rue all the dayes of his life.
For the mayors daughter of Lin, god wott,
He chose her to his wife,
And thought with her to have lived in love,
By they fell to hate and strife.
They scarce were in their wed-bed laid,
And scarce was hee asleepe,
But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes.
To the steward, and gan to weepe.
10
PORTINGALE. 51
Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles ?
Or be you not within ?
Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles, 15
Arise and let me inn.
O, I am waking, sweete, he said,
Sweete ladye, what is your will ?
I have unbethouerht me of a wile
How my wed-lord weell spill/ 20
Twenty-four good knights, shee sayes,
That dwell about this towne,
Even twenty-four of my next cozens,
Will helpe to dinge"^ him downe.
All that beheard his litle footepage, 25
As he watered his masters steed ;
And for his masters sad perille
His verry heart did bleed.
He raourned still, and wept full sore ;
I sweare by the holy roode • 30
The teares he for his master wept
Were blent water and bloude.
And that beheard his deare master
As he stood at his garden pale :
Sayes, Ever alacke, my litle foot-page, 35
What causes thee to wail ?
Hath any one done to thee wronge
Any of thy fellowes here ?
Or is any of thy good friends dead,
That thou shedst manye a teare ? 40
Ver. 19. unhethou^ht, (proijcrly onbdhoui^ht^ this word is still
used in the Midland counties in the same sense as bethought.
V. 32. blend, MS.
[' spoil or kill. ' knock.]
52 OLD ROBIN OF
Or, if it be my head bookes-man/
Aggrieved he shal bee :
For no man here within my howse,
Shall doe wrong unto thee.
O, it is not your head bookes-man, 4.5
Nor none of his degree :
But, on to-morrow ere it be noone
All deemed^ to die are yee.
And of that bethank your head steward.
And thank your gay ladie. 50
If this be true, my litle foot-page,
The heyre of my land thoust bee.
If it be not true, my dear master,
No good death let me die.
If it be not true, thou litle foot-page, 55
A dead corse shalt thou lie.
O call now downe my faire ladye,
O call her downe to mee :
And tell my ladye gay how sicke,
And like to die I bee. 60
Downe then came his ladye faire.
All clad in purple and pall :
The rings that were on her fingers,
Cast liofht thorrow the hall.
&'
What is your will, my owne wed-lord } 65
What is your will with mee ?
O see, my ladye deere, how sicke,
And like to die I bee.
Ver. 47. or to-morrow, MS. V. 56. bee, MS.
[1 clerk. 2 doomed.]
PORTINGALE. 53
And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord,
Soe sore it grieveth me : 70
But my five maydens and myselfe
Will " watch thy " bedde for thee :
And at the wakino- of your first sleepe,
We will a hott drinke make :
And at the waking of your " next" sleepe, 75
Your sorrowes we will slake.
He put a silk cote on his backe,
And mail of manye a fold :
And hee putt a Steele cap on his head,
Was gilt with good red gold. 80
He layd a bright browne sword by his side.
And another att his feete :
" And twentye good knights he placed at hand,
To watch him in his sleepe."
And about the middle time of the night, 85
Came twentye-four traitours inn :
Sir Giles he was the foremost man,
The leader of that o-inn.^
t>
Old Robin with his brii^ht browne sword,
Sir Gyles head soon did winn : 90
And scant of all those twenty-four,
Went out one quick"^ agenn.
None save only a litle foot page,
Crept forth at a window of stone :
And he had two amies when he came in, 95
And he went back with one.
Ver. 72. make the, MS. V. 75. first, MS.
[' snare. "^ alive. J
54 OLD ROBIN OF .
Upp then came that ladie gaye
With torches burning bright :
She thought to have brought sir Gyles a drinke,
Butt she found her owne wedd knight. loo
The first thinge that she stumbled on
It was sir Gyles his foote :
Sayes, Ever alacke, and woe is mee !
Here lyes my sweete hart-roote.
The next thinge that she stumbled on 105
It was sir Gyles his heade ;
Sayes, Ever, alacke, and woe is me !
Heere lyes my true love deade.
Hee cutt the pappes beside her brest,
And did her body spille ; no
He cutt the eares beside her heade.
And bade her love her fille.
He called then up his litle foot-page,
And made him there his heyre ;
And sayd henceforth my worldlye goodes us
And countrye I forsweare.
He shope^ the crosse on his right shoulder.
Of the white " clothe " and the redde,*
And went him into the holy land,
Wheras Christ was quicke and dead. 120
Ver. 118. fleshe, MS.
* Every person who went on a Croisade to the Holy Land,
usually wore a cross on his upper garment, on the right shoulder,
as a badge of his profession. Different nations were distinguished
by crosses of different colours : The English wore white ; the
French red ; &c. This circumstance seems to be confounded in
the ballad. (V. Spelman, Gloss.)
\} shaped.]
PORTINGALE. 55
HE following is the original ballad from the Folio MS.
ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 235.
God ! let neuer soe old a man
marry so yonge a wifte
as did old Robin of portingale !
he may rue all the dayes of his liffe. 4
ffor the Maiors daughter of Lin, god wott,
he chose her to his wife,
&: tliought to haue liued in quiettnesse
with her all the dayes of his liffe. 8
they had not in their wed bed laid,
scarcly were both on slecpe,
but vpp shee rose, & forth shee goes
to Sir Gyles, & fast can weepe, i*
Saies, " sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles,
or be not you within ? "
" but I am waking, sweete," he said,
" Lady, what is your will ? " »6
" I haue vnbethought me of a will,
hqw my wed Lord we shall spill.
" 24 knights, she sayes,
that dwells about this to\vne, «o
eene 24 of my Next Cozens,
will helpe to dinge him downe."
with that beheard his litle foote page
as he was watering his Masters steed, 24
Soe s * * * *
his verry heart did bleed ;
he mourned, sist, and wept full sore ;
I sweare by the holy roode, 28
the teares he for his Master wept
were blend water & bloude.
with that beheard his deare Master
as in his garden sate, 3*
says, " euer alacke my litle page !
what causes thee to weepe ?
" hath any one done to thee wronge,
any of thy fcllowes here, 36
or is any of ihy good friends dead
which makes thee shed such teares ?
56 OLD ROBIN OF
" or if it be my head bookes man,
grieued againe he shalbe, 4°
nor noe man within my howse
shall doe wrong vnto thee."
" but it is not your head bookes man,
nor none of his degree, 44
but or to morrow, ere it be Noone,
you are deemed to die ;
" & of that thanke your head Steward,
& after your gay Ladie." 48
" If it be true, my Httle foote page,
He make thee heyre of all my land,"
" if it be not true, my deare Master,
god let me neuer dye." S*
" if it be not true, thou Httle foot page,
a dead corse shalt thou be."
he called downe his head kookes man,
cooke in kitchen super to dresse : 56
" all & anon, my deare Master,
anon at your request."
" & call you downe my faire Lady,
this night to supp with mee."
& downe then came that fayre Lady,
was cladd all in purple & palle,
the rings that were vpon her fingers
cast light thorrow the hall. 64
" What is your will, my owne wed Lord,
what is your will with mee ? "
" I am sicke, fayre Lady,
sore sicke, & like to dye." 68
" but & you be sicke, my owne wed Lord,
soe sore it greiueth mee,
but my 5 maydens & my selfe
will goe & make your bedd, 7*
" & at the wakening of your first sleepe,
you shall haue a hott drinke Made,
& at the wakening of your first sleepe
your sorrowes will haue a slake." 76
60
PORTINGALE. 57
he put a silke cote on his backe,
was 1 3 inches folde,
& put a Steele cap vpon his head,
was gilded with good red gold ; 80
& he layd a bright bro\\'ne sword by his side,
& another att his ffeete,
& full well knew old Robin then
whether he shold wake or sleepe. 84
& about the Middle time of the Night
came 24 good knights in,
S}T G)ies he was the formosb man,
soe well he knew that ginne. 88
Old Robin with a bright browne sword
Sir Gyles head he did winne,
soe did he all those 24,
neuer a one went quicke out [agen ;] 92
none but one litle foot page
crept forth at a ^\'indow of stone,
& he had 2 armes when he came in
And [when he went out he had none]. 96
Vpp then came that Ladie bright
with torches burning light ;
shee thought to haue brought Sir Gyles a drinke,
but shee found her owne wedd Knight, 100
& the first thinge that this Ladye stumbled vpon,
was of Sir Gyles his ffoote,
sayes, " euer alacke, and woe is me,
heere lyes my sweete hart roote !" 104
& the 2'' thing that this Ladie stumbled on,
was of Sir Gyles his head,
sayes, " euer alacke, and woe is me,
heere lyes my true loue deade ! " 108
hee c-utt the papps beside he[r] brest,
& bad her wish her will,
^ he cutt the cares beside her heade,
& bade her wish on still. iia
" Micklc is the mans blood I haue spent
to doe thee & me some good,"
sayes, " euer alacke, my fayre Lady,
I thinke that 1 was woode?" 116
58 OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE.
he calld then vp his litle foote page,
& made him heyre of all his land,
& he shope the crosse in his right sholder
of the white flesh & the redd. 120
& he sent him into the holy land
wheras Christ was quicke & dead."
ffins.]
. IX.
CHILD WATERS.
}HILD is frequently used by our old writers, as a Title.
It is repeatedly given to Prince Arthur in the Fairie
Queen : and the son of a king is in the same poem
called " Child Tristram." (B. 5. c. 1 1. st. 8. 13.— B. 6.
c. 2. St. 36. — Ibid. c. 8. St. 15.) In an old ballad quoted in
Shakespeare's K. Lear, the hero of Ariosto is called Child Roland.
Mr. Theobald supposes this use of the word was received along
with their romances from the Spaniards, with whom Infaiite signi-
fies a " Prince." A more eminent critic tells us, that " in the old
times of chivalry, the noble youth, who were candidates for knight-
hood, during the time of their probation were called Infans, Var-
lets, Damoysels, Bacheliers. The most noble of the youth were
particularly called I?ifans:' (Vid. Warb. Shakesp.) A late com-
mentator on Spenser observes, that the Saxon word cniht, knight,
signifies also a "child." (See Upton's gloss to the F. Q.)
The Editor's folio MS. whence the following piece is taken (with
some corrections), affords several other ballads, wherein the word
Child occurs as a title : but in none of these it signifies " Prince."
See the song intitled Gil Morrice, in this volume.
It ought to be observed, that the Word Child or Chield is still
used in North Britain to denominate a Man, commonly with some
contemptuous character aflixed to him, but sometimes to denote
Man in general.
[This ballad gives us a curious insight into ancient manners,
and shows what were our forefathers' notions of the perfection of
female character. They would have agreed with the propounder
of the question — What is woman's mission ? answer, sub-mission.
Like patient Grissel, Ellen bears worse sufferings than the Nut-
Brown Maid has to hear of, and in spite of the worst usage she
CHILD WATERS. 59
never swerves from her devotion. This Enghsh version was the
first pubHshed, but the story is the same as Lai k Fraic, preserved
in Enghsh in the Auchinleck MS. and in Nonnan in the Lais of
Marie, which were written about the year 1250.
Jamieson {Popular Ballads ami Songs, 1806, vol. i. p. 113) pub-
hshed his Scottish version under the more appropriate name of
Burd Ellen, who is the real heroine rather than the rufiian Waters
is the hero. Adopting the idea of Mrs. Hampden Pye, who wrote
a ballad on the same subject, he changes the character of the
catastrophe by adding three concluding stanzas to wind up the
story in an imhappy manner. Another version of the ballad, which
ends happily, is given in Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads under
the title of Lady Margaret. A German version of this ballad was
made by the poet Biirger.]
HILDE WATERS in his stable stoode
And stroakt his milke white steede
To him a fayre yonge ladye came
As ever ware womans weede.
Sayes, Christ you save, good Childe Waters ; 5
Sayes, Christ you save, and see :
My girdle of gold that was too longe.
Is now too short for mee.
And all is with one chyld of yours,
I feele sturre att my side ; jo
My gowne of greene it is too straighte ;
Before, it was too wide.
If the child be mine, faire Ellen, he sayd.
Be mine as you tell mee ;
Then take you Che.shire and Lancashire both. 15
Take them your owne to bee.
fVer. 3. to him came, MS. V. 4. as ere did weare, MS. V. 7.
which was. MS. V. 15. then not in MS.]
6o CHILD WATERS,
If the childe be mine, faire Ellen, he sayd,
Be mine, as you doe sweare :
Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
And make that child your heyre. 20
Shee sales, I had rather have one kisse,
Child Waters, of thy mouth ;
Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,
That lye by north and south.
And I had rather have one twinkling, as
Childe Waters, of thine ee :
Then I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both
To take them mine owne to bee.
To morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde
Farr into the north countrie ; ' . 30
The fairest lady that I can find,
Ellen, must goe with mee.
[Thoughe I am not that lady fayre,
Yet let me go with thee.]
And ever I pray you. Child Waters, 35
Your foot-page let me bee.
If you will my foot-page be, Ellen,
As you doe tell to mee ;
Then you must cut your gowne of greene,
An inch above your knee : 40
Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,
An inch above your ee :
You must tell no man what is my name ;
My foot-page then you shall bee.
[V. 24. that lyes. V. 25. have a. V. 26, of your eye. V. 30.
soe ffarr. V. 38. tell itt mee. V. 42. another inch above your
eye. MS.]
CHILD WATERS. 6i
Shee, all the long day Child Waters rode, 45
Ran barefoote by his side ;
Yett was he never so courteous a knighte,
To say, Ellen, will you ryde ?
Shee, all the long day Child Waters rode,
Ran barefoote thorow the broome ; 50
Yett hee was never soe curteous a knighte,
To say, put on your shoone.
Ride softlye, shee sayd, O Childe Waters,
Why doe you ryde soe fast ?
The childe, which is no mans but thine, 55
My bodye itt will brast.
Hee sayth, seest thou yonder water, Ellen,
That flows from banke to brimme. —
I trust to God, O Child Waters,
You never will see* mee swimme. 60
But when shee came to the waters side,
Shee styled to the chinne :
Except the Lord of heaven be my speed,
Now must I learne to swimme.
The salt waters bare up her clothes ; 65
Our Ladye bare upp her chinne :
Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord,
To see faire Ellen swimme.
And when shee over the water was,
Shee then came to his knee : 70
He said, Come hither, thou faire Ellen,
Loe yonder what I see.
[Vcr. 45. all this long. Slice not in MS. V. 46. slice ran.
V. 49. but all this clay. V. 50. shee ran. V. 52. as to say. V. 53.
P not in MS. V. 55. but yours. V. 5O. Inirst. V. 57. he sayes,
sees. V. 59. Child Waters, shee said. V. 65. Ellen's clothes.
V. 67. and Child Waters. V. 71. thou not in MS.J
* i,e. permit, suffer, &c.
62 CHILD WATERS,
Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen ?
Of redd gold shines the yate :
Of twenty foure faire ladyes there, 75
The fairest is my mate.
Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen ?
Of redd gold shines the towre :
There are twenty four faire ladyes there,
The fairest is my paramoure. 80
I see the hall now, Child Waters,
Of redd gold shines the yate :
God give you good now of yourselfe,
And of your worthye mate.
I see the hall now, Child Waters, 85
Of redd golde shines the towre :
God give you good now of yourselfe,
And of your paramoure.
There twenty four fayre ladyes were
A playing att the ball : 9°
And Ellen the fairest ladye there,
Must bring his steed to the stall.
There twenty four fayre ladyes were
A playinge at the chesse ;
And Ellen the fayrest ladye there, 95
Must bring his horse to gresse.
And then bespake Childe Waters sister,
These were the wordes said shee :
You have the prettyest foot-page, brother.
That ever I saw with mine ee. 100
[Ver. 74. shine the yates. MS. V. 75. theres 24 ffayre ladyes.
V. 76. the ffairest is my worldlye make. V. 78. Shineth. V. 79. there
is 24 ffaire ladyes. V. 81, 85. I doe see. V. 82, 86. that of redd
gold shineth the yates. V. 83, 87. God give good then. V. 84.
worldlye make. V. 89. there were 24 ladyes. V. 90. were play-
ing. V. 91. Ellen was the fairest ladye. V. 93. there were.
V. 94. was playing. V. 95. shee was the ffairest ladye. V. 96.
grasse. V. 98. and these. V. 100. eye. MS.]
CHILD WATERS. 63
But that his bellye It is soe bigg,
His ijirdle iroes wonderoiis hie :
And let him, I pray you, Childe Waters,
Goe into the chamber with mee.
[It is not fit for a httle foot-page, 105
That has run throughe mosse and myre.
To go into the chamber with any ladye.
That weares soe riche attyre.]
It is more meete for a htle foot-page,
That has run throughe mosse and myre, no
To take his supper upon his knee.
And sitt downe by the kitchen fyer.
But when they had supped every one,
To bedd they tooke theyr waye :
He sayd, come hither, my httle foot-page, ns
And hearken what I saye.
Goe thee downe into yonder towne,
And low into the street ;
The fayrest ladye that thou can finde,
Hyer her in mine armes to sleepe, 120
And take her up in thine armes twaine.
For filinge* of her feete.
Ellen is gone into the towne.
And low into the streete :
The fairest ladye that shee cold find, 125
Shee hyred in his armes to sleepe ;
[Ver. 103. and ever I pray. MS. V. 104. let him goe. After
V. X 1 2 the two lines
then goe into the chamber with any ladye
that weares soe .... attyre
occur in the M.S. V. 114. they waye. V. 116. hearken what I
doe say. V. 117. and goe thy. V. 121. armes 2. MS.]
* i.e. defiliny. Sec Warton's Observ. vol. ii. p. 158.
64 CHILD WATERS.
And tooke her up in her armes twayne,
For fiHng of her feete.
I praye you nowe, good Childe Waters,
Let mee lye at your bedds feete : 130
For there is noe place about this house,
Where I may 'saye a slepe*.
[He gave her leave, and faire Ellen
Down at his beds feet laye : ]
This done the nighte drove on apace, 135
And when it was neare the daye,
Hee sayd, Rise up, my litle foot-page.
Give my steede corne and haye ;
And soe doe thou the good black oats,
To carry mee better awaye. 140
Up then rose the faire Ellen
And gave his steede corne and hay :
And soe shee did the good blacke oates,
To carry him the better away.
Shee leaned her backe to the manger side, 145
And grievouslye did groane :
[Shee leaned her back to the manger side,
And there shee made her moane.]
And that beheard his mother deere,
Shee heard her there monand. 150
Shee sayd. Rise up, thou Child Waters,
I think thee a cursed man.
[V. 127. and tooke her in her armes 2. V. 130. that I may
creape in att. V. 135-6.
this and itt drove now afterward
till itt was neere the day.
V. 138. and give. V. 140. that he may carry me the better
away. V. 141. and up then rose the. V. 143. did on. V. 144.
that he might carry him. V. 145. she layned. V. 150. and
heard her make her moane. V. 152. I think thou art a. MS.]
* Ver. 132. i.e. essay, attempt.
CHILD WATERS. 65
For in thy stable is a orhost,
That grievouslyc doth grone :
Or else some woman laboures of chilcle, 155
She is soe woe-begone.
Up then rose Childe Waters soon,
And did on his shirte of silke ;
And then he put on his other clothes,
On his body as white as milke. 160
And when he came to the stable dore,
Full still there hee did stand,
That hee mighte heare his fayre Ellen,
Howe shee made her monand*.
She sayd, Lullabye, mine owne deere child, 165
Lullabye, dere child, dere :
I wold thy father were a king.
Thy mother layd on a biere.
Peace now, hee said, good faire Ellen.
Be of good cheere, I praye ; 170
And the bridal and the churching both
Shall bee upon one day.
[Ver. 153. for yonder is a ghost in thy stable. V, 157. but up
then rose Chikle Waters. V. 159. aiui not in MS. V. 162. full
still that. V. 163. heare now faire. V. 165. my owne. V. 170.
and be of good cheere I thee pray. V. 172. they shall, MS.]
• sic in MS., i.e. moaning, bemoaning, &c.
66 PHIL LI DA AND CORY DON.
X.
PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.
HIS Sonnet is given from a small quarto MS. in the
Editor's possession, written in the time of Q. Ehzabeth.
Another Copy of it containing some variations, is re-
printed in the Muses' Library, p. 295, from an ancient
miscellany, intided England's Helicon, 1600, 4to. The author was
Nicholas Breton, a writer of some fame in the reign of Elizabeth ;
who also published an interlude intitled An old man's lesson and
a young man's love, 4to., and many other little pieces in prose and
verse, the titles of which may be seen in Winstanley, Ames' Typog.
and Osborne's Harl. Catalog. &c. — He is mentioned with great
respect by Meres, in his 2d pt. of Wit's Common-wealth, 1598,
f. 283, and is alluded to in Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady,
act ii., and again in Wit without Money, act iii. — See Whalley's
Ben Jonson, vol. iii. p. 103.
The present Edition is improved by a copy in England's Llelicon,
edit. 1 6 14, 8vo.
This little Pastoral is one of the Songs in "The Honourable
Entertainment gieven to the Queenes Majestic in Progresse at
Elvetham in Hampshire, by the R. H. the Earle of Hertford,
1 59 1, 4to." (Printed by Wolfe. No name of author.) See in
that pamphlet,
" The thirde daies Entertainment.
" On Wednesday morning about 9 o'clock, as her Majestie
opened a casement of her gallerie window, ther were 3 excellent
musitians, who being disguised in auncient country attire, did
greet her with a pleasant song of Corydon and Phillida, made in
3 parts of purpose. The song, as well for the worth of the dittie
as the aptnesse of the note thereto applied, it pleased her High-
nesse after it had been once sung to command it againe, and
highly to grace it with her cheerefuU acceptance and commenda-
tion.
The Plowman's Song.
/;/ the merrie month of May, &c."
The splendour and magnificence of Elizabeth's reign is nowhere
more strongly painted than in these little diaries of some of her
summer excursions to the houses of her nobility; nor could a
PHILLIDA AND CORYDON. 67
more acceptable present be given to the world, than a republication
of a select number of such details as this of the entertainment at
Elvctham, that at Kil/ingicorth, &c., ^rc, which so strongly mark
the spirit of the times, and present us with scenes so very remote
from modern manners.
Since the above was written, the public hath been gratified with
a most compleat work on the foregoing subject, intitled, T/ic Pro-
gresses and Public Processions of Queen Elizabeth, ^--c. By John
Nichols, F.A.S., Edinb. and Perth, 17 88, 2 vols. 4to.
[The author of this elegant little poem was a most voluminous
author, and "is sui)posed to be the same Capt. Nicholas Breton,
who was of Norton in Northamptonshire, and dying there June 22,
1624, has a monument in that church.'"* Dr. Rimbault {Musical
Illustrations 0/ Percy's Peliques) wTites as follows of the music : —
" We have here two settings of this beautiful pastoral, the first as it
was sung by the ' three excellent musitians ' before Queen Elizabeth
in 1591 ; the second as it was reset in the following century. The
first is extracted from Madrigals to 3, 4, and 5 parts, apt for viols
and voices, newly composed by Michael Este, 1604; the second
from Cheerfull Ayres or Ballads, set for three voyces, by Dr. John
Wilson, Oxford, 1660. The latter became extremely popular, and
is included in D'Urfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy, 17 19, and
several other miisical miscellanies of subsequent date."]
N the merrie moneth of Maye,
^^ I n a morne by break of da)e,
With a troope of damselles playing
Forthe " I )'ode" forsooth a maying :
When anon by a wood side, s
W'liere as Maye was in his pride,
1 espied all alone
Phillida and Corydon.
Much adoe there was, god wot ;
He wold love, and she wold not. lo
She sayde, never man was trewe ;
He sayes, none was false to you.
Ver. 4. the wode, MS.
• England's Helicon (Hrydgcs' British Bibliographer, vol. iii.)J
68 PHILLIDA AND COR YD ON.
He sayde, hee had lovde her longe :
She sayes, love should have no wronge.
Corydon wold kisse her then : 15
She sayes, maydes must kisse no men,
Tyll they doe for good and all.
When she made the shepperde call
All the heavens to wytnes truthe,
Never loved a truer youthe. 20
Then with manie a prettie othe,
Yea and nay, and, faith and trothe ;
Suche as seelie shepperdes use
When they will not love abuse ;
Love, that had bene long deluded, 25
Was with kisses sweete concluded ;
And Phillida with garlands gaye
Was made the lady of the Maye.
XI.
LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY
BARNARD.
["HIS ballad is ancient, and has been popular; we find it
,^^,J' quoted in many old plays. See Beaum. and Fletcher's
j^ ^^^^ Knight of the Burning Pestle, 4to. 1613, act v. sc. iii.
The Varietie, a comedy, i2mo. 1649, ^.ct iv. &c. In Sir
\\'illiam Davenant's play, The Witts, a. iii. a gallant thus boasts of
himself:
" Limber and sound ! besides I sing Musgrave,
And for Chevy-chace nu lark comes near me,"
In the Pepys Collection, vol. iii. p. 314, is an imitation of this
old song, in 33 stanzas, by a more modern pen, with many altera-
tions, but evidently for the worse.
This is given from an old printed copy in the British Museum,
LITTLE MUSGRAVE. 69
with corrections ; some of wliich are from a fragment in tlie Editor's
folio 2^IS. It is also printed in Dryden's Collection of Miscellaneous
Poems.
[The copy of this ballad in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall,
vol. i. p. 1 19) is a mutilated fragment consisting of only ten complete
stanzas and three half ones. The oldest entire copy is to be fouiid
in Wit Restord, 165S, where it is called the old ballad of little
Musgrave, which is given by Professor Child {English and Scottish
Ballads, vol. ii. p. 15) in preference to Percys. This version, not
very exactly transcribed, is printed in Dryden's Miscellany Poems
(17 16, vol. iii. 312), and Ritson {Ancient Songs and Ballads, vol. ii.
p. 116) copied it from thence. Ritson writes of one of Percy's
statements above : " Dr. Percy indeed, by some mistake, gives it
as from an old printed copy in the British Museum ; observing
that ' In the Pepys collection is an imitation of this old song in
a difterent measure, by a more modem pen, with many alterations,
but evidently for the worse.' It is very true, and not less so that
the only copies in the museum (for there are two) are more recent
impressions of this identical imitation^
It is the 14th stanza slightly altered which is quoted in the
Knight of the Burning Pestle.
" And some they whistled, and some they sung,
Hey down down !
And some did loudly say
Ever as Lord Barnet's horn blew.
Away Musgrave, away."
There are several Scottish versions, in which tlie reciters have
altered the locality. Jamieson has printed one which he calls
Lord Barnaby {Popular Ballads and Songs, i. 170). He states
that he had heard it repeated both in Morayshire and in the
southern counties.
Motherwell gives the air in his Minstrelsy which he noted down
from oral communication, and this verse —
" It fell upon a Martinmas time
When the nobles were a drinking wine.
That little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did go
For to see the ladies come in."
Mr. J. H. Dixon includes a version entitled Lord Jhirnett and
J^ittlc Munsgro7'e in his Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient
liallads (Percy Society, vol. xvii.)
Home adopted the name of Lady Barnard in his Douglas before
he took that of Lady Randolph, see No. 18, Gil Morrice.
70 LITTLE MUSGRAVE
There is another ballad called The Bonny Birdy, with a similar
story. Jamieson (i. 162) prints it and alters the title to Lord
Randal.^
S it fell out on a highe holye daye,
As many bee in the yeare,
When yong men and maides together do
goe
Their masses and mattins to heare,
Little Musgrave came to the church door, 5
The priest was at the mass ;
But he had more mind of the fine women,
Then he had of our Ladyes grace.
And some of them were clad in greene,
And others were clad in pall ; 10
And then came in my lord Barnardes wife.
The fairest among them all.
Shee cast an eye on little Musgrave
As bright as the summer sunne :
0 then bethought him little Musgrave, 15
This ladyes heart I have wonne.
Quoth she, I have loved thee, little Musgrave,
Fulle long and manye a daye.
So have I loved you, ladye faire,
Yet word I never durst saye. 20
1 have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,*
Full daintilye bedight,
If thoult wend thither, my little Musgrave,
Thoust lig in mine armes all night.
Bucklefield-berry, fol. MS.
AND LADY BARNARD. 71
Quoth hee, I thanke yee, ladye faire, as
This kindness yee shew to mee ;
And whether it be to my weale or woe,
This niorht will I licr with thee.
All this beheard a litle foot-page,
By his ladyes coach as he ranne : 30
Quoth he, thoughe I am my ladyes page,
Yet I me ni)- lord Barnardes manne.
My lord Barnard shall knowe of this,
Althouo-h I lose a limbe.
And ever whereas the bridges were broke, 35
He layd him downe to swimme.
Asleep or awake, thou lord Barnard,
As thou art a man of life,
Lo! this same night at Bucklesford-Bury
Litle Musgrave's in bed with thy wife. . 40
If it be trew, thou litle foote-page,
This tale thou hast told to mee,
Then all my lands in Bucklesford-Bury
I freelye will give to thee.
But and it be a lye, thou litle foot-page, 45
This tale thou hast told to mee,
On the hii^hest tree in Bucklesford-Bury
All hanired shalt thou bee.
'&
Rise up, rise up, my merry men all.
And saddle me my good stecde ; 50
This night must I to Bucklesford-bury ;
God wott, I had never more neede.
Then some they whistled, and some they sang,
And some did loudlye saye.
Whenever lord Barnardes home it blewe, 55
Awaye, Musgrave, away.
72 LITTLE MUSGRAVE
Methinkes I heare the throstle cocke,
Methinkes I heare the jay,
Methinkes I heare lord Barnards home ;
I would I were awaye. 60
Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgrave,
And huggle me from the cold ;
For it is but some shephardes boye
A whistling his sheepe to the fold.
Is not thy hawke upon the pearche, 65
Thy horse eating corne and haye ?
And thou a gay lady within thine armes :
And wouldst thou be awaye ?
By this lord Barnard was come to the dore,
And lighted upon a stone : 70
And he pulled out three silver keyes,
And opened the dores eche one.
He lifted up the coverlett,
He lifted up the sheete ;
How now, how now, thou little Musgrave, 75
Dost find my gaye ladye sweete ?
I find her sweete, quoth little Musgrave,
The more is my griefe and paine ;
Ide gladlye give three hundred poundes
That I were on yonder plaine. ' 80
Arise, arise, thou little Musgrave,
And put thy cloathes nowe on,
It shall never be said in my countree,
That I killed a naked man.
Ver, 64. Is whistling sheepe ore the mold, fol. MS.
AND LADY BARNARD. 73
I have two swordes in one scabbarde, 85
Full deare the)- cost ni}' purse ;
And thou shalt have the best of them,
And I will have the worse.
The first stroke that little Musgrave strucke,
He hurt lord Barnard sore; 90
The next stroke that lord Barnard strucke,
Little MusQ:rave never strucke more.
With that bespake the ladye faire,
In bed whereas she laye,
Althoughe thou art dead, my little JNIusgrave, 95
Yet for thee I will praye :
And wishe well to thy soule will I,
So long- as I have life ;
So will I not do for thee, Barnard,
Thoughe I am thy wedded wife. 100
He cut her pappes from off her brest;
Great pit)'e it was to see
The drops of this fair ladyes bloode
Run trickling downe her knee.
Wo worth, wo worth ye, my merrye men all, 105
You never were borne for my goode :
Why did you not offer to stay my hande.
When you sawe me wax so woode ? '
For I have slaine the fairest sir knighte,
That ever rode on a steede ; no
So have I done the fairest lady.
That ever ware womans wcede.*
-[• See the last stanza of Chihle Maurice from Folio MS., book i.
No. 18, which is ahnost identical with this.
^ wildly angry.]
74 LITTLE MUSGRAVE.
A grave, a grave, Lord Barnard cryde,
To putt these lovers in ;
But lay my ladye o' the upper hande, 115
For she comes o' the better kin.
tjt That the more modern copy is to be dated about the middle
of the last century, will be readily conceived from the tenor of the
concluding stanza, viz.
" This sad Mischief by Lust was wrought ;
Then let us call for Grace,
That we may shun the wicked vice,
And fly from Sin a-pace."
XII.
THE EW-BUGHTS, MARION.
A Scottish Song.
"^'^^HIS sonnet appears to be ancient: that and its sim-
plicity of sentiment have recommended it to a place
here.
[This is marked in Ramsay's Tea Table Miscellany as
an old song with additions. It is not known who Avrote the song
or who composed the air belonging to it. They are both old.]
ILL ye gae to the ew-bughts/ Marion,
And wear in'^ the sheip wi' mee ?
The sun shines sweit, my Marion,
But nae half sae sweit as thee.
O Marion's a bonnie lass ;
And the blyth blinks^ in her ee :
And fain wad I marrie Marion,
Gin Marion wad marrie mee.
[1 the pens in which the ewes are milked. ^ gather in.
3 joy sparkles.]
THE EW-BUGHTS, MARION. 75
Theire's gowd in your garters, Marion ;
And siller on your white hauss-bane* : 10
Foil faine wad I kisse my Marion
At eene quhan I cum hame.
Theire's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion,
Ouha gape and glowr wi' their ee
At kirk, ([uhan they see my Marion ; 15
Bot nane of them lues' like mee.
Ive nine milk-ews, my Marion,
A cow and a brawney quay ; "^
Ise gie tham au to my Marion,
Just on her bridal day. 20
And yees get a grein sey^ apron,
And waistcote o' London broun ;
And wow bot ye will be vaporing
Ouhaneir ye gang to the toun.
I me yong and stout, my Marion, 25
N.one dance lik mee on the greine ;
And gin ye forsak me, Marion,
Ise een gae draw up wi' Jeane.
Sae put on your pearlins,^ Marion,
And kirtle oth' cramasie ; ' 30
And sune as my chin has nae haire on,
I sail cum west, and see yee.
* I/auss bane, i. e. The neck-bone. Marion had probably a
silver locket on, tied close to her neck with a ribband, an usual
ornament in .Scotland ; where a sore throat is called " a sair //ausi',"
properly halse.
I ' loves. 2 younjf heifer. ■'* woollen cloth.
'• a kind of lace made of thread or silk. •'' crimson. J
']6 THE KNIGHT AND
XIII.
THE KNIGHT, AND SHEPHERD'S
DAUGHTER.
'HIS ballad (given from an old black-letter copy, with
some corrections) was popular in the time of Q. Eliza-
beth, being usually printed with her picture before it, as
Hearne informs us in his preface to Gul. Neiibrig. Hist.
Oxon. 1 7 19, 8vo. vol. i. p. Ixx. It is quoted in Fletcher's comedy
of the Pilgrim, act iv. sc. 2.
[It is also quoted in The Knight of the Burning Pestle :
" He set her on a milk white steed." (1. 85.)
There are several Scottish versions given by Buchan, Kinloch, and
Motherwell. The latter claims greater antiquity for his over Percy's.
It appears, however, to be a southern ballad adapted by the Scotch
and improved in its humour. The heroine practices various arti-
fices to maintain the character of a "beggar's brat" when riding
back with Earl Richard. ~\
^ag<g=ogs.<VJ
HERE was a shepherd's daughter
Came trippuig on the waye ;
And there by chance a knighte shee mett,
Which caused her to staye.
Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide, 5
These words pronounced hee :
O I shall dye this daye, he sayd.
If Ive not my wille of thee.
The Lord forbid, the maide replyde.
That you shold waxe so wode ! 10
" But for all that shee could do or saye,
He wold not be withstood."
SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER. yj
Sith you have had your wille of mee,
And put me to open shame,
Now, if you are a courteous knighte, 15
Tell me what is your name ?
Some do call mee Jacke, sweet heart,
And some do call mee Jille ; '
But when I come to the kinoes faire courte
They call me Wilfulle Wille. ao
He sett his foot into the stirrup.
And awa}e then he did ride ;
She tuckt her Q-irdle about her middle,
And ranne close by his side.
But when she came to the brode water, 25
She sett her brest and swamme ;
And when she was cot out acraine,
She tooke to her heels and ranne.
He never was the courteous knighte,
To saye, faire maide, will ye ride ? 30
" And she was ever too lovinor a maide "
To saye, sir knighte abide.
When she came to the kings faire courte.
She knocked at the ring ;
So readye was the king himself 35
To let this faire maide in.
Now Christ you save, my gracious liege.
Now Christ you save and see.
You have a knighte within your courte
This daye hath robbed mee. 40
{} Jill is sometimes used as a woman's name and at other times
as a man's.]
78 THE KNIGHT AND
What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart ?
Of purple or of pall ?
Or hath he took thy gaye gold ring
From off thy finger small ?
He hath not robbed mee, my leige, 45
Of purple nor of pall :
But he hath gotten my maiden head,
Which grieves mee worst of all.
Now if he be a batchelor,
His bodye He give to thee ; 50
But if he be a married man,
Hi^h hansfed he shall bee.
He called downe his merrye men all,
By one, by two, by three ;
Sir William used to bee the first, si
But nowe the last came hee.
He brought her downe full fortye pounde,
Tyed up withinne a glove :
Faire maid. He give the same to thee;
Go, seeke thee another love. 60
O He have none of your gold, she sayde,
Nor He have none of your fee ;
But your faire bodye I must have,
The kinof hath oranted mee.
Sir William ranne and fetchd her then 65
Five hundred pound in golde,
Saying, faire maide, take this to thee,
Thy fault will never be tolde.
Ver. 50. His bodye He give to t/iee.'] This was agreeable to the
feudal customs : The Lord had a right to give a wife to his vassals.
See Shakespeare's All's well that ends well.
SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER. 79
Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt,
These \vords then answered shee, 70
But your own bodye I must have,
The kinor hath oranted mee.
Would I had dranke the water cleare,
When I did drinke the wine,
Rather than any shepherds brat 75
Shold bee a ladye of mine !
W^ould I had drank the puddle foule,
When I did drink the ale.
Rather than ever a shepherds brat
Shold tell me such a tale ! 80
A shepherds brat even as I was.
You mote have let me bee,
I never had come othe kings faire courte.
To crave any love of thee.
He sett her on a milk-white steede, 85
And himself upon a graye ;
He huncr a bu^jle about his necke,
And soe they rode awaye.
But w^hen they came unto the place,
Where marriage-rites were done, 90
She proved herself a dukes daughter.
And he but a squires sonne.
Now marrye me, or not, sir knight,
Your pleasure shall be free :
If you make me ladye of one good towne, 95
lie make )'<)U lord of thre-e.
Ah ! cursed bee the gold, he sayd,
If thou hadst not been trewe,
1 shold have forsak(-n my sweet love,
And have changed her for a newe. 100
8o THE SHEPHERD'S
And now their hearts being- linked fast,
They joyned hand in hande :
Thus he had both purse, and person too,
And all at his commande.
XIV.
THE SHEPHERD'S ADDRESS TO HIS
MUSE.
HIS poem, originally printed from the small MS. volume,
mentioned above in No. X., has been improved by a
more perfect copy in England^s Helicon, where the
author- is discovered to be N. Breton.
OOD Muse, rocke me aslepe
With some sweete harmony :
This wearie eyes is not to kepe
Thy wary company.
Sweete Love, begon a while,
Thou seest my heavines :
Beautie is borne but to beguyle
My harte of happines.
See howe my little flocke,
That lovde to feede on highe,
Doe headlonge tumble downe the rocke,
And in the valley dye.
The bushes and the trees.
That were so freshe and greene,
Doe all their deintie colors leese,
And not a leafe is seene.
lO
15
ADDRESS TO HIS MUSE. Si
The blacke birde and the thrushe,
That made the woodes to ringe,
With all the rest, are now at hushe,
And not a note they singe. 20
Swete Philomele, the birde
That hath the heavenly throte,
Doth nowe, alas ! not once afforde
Recordino;e of a note.
The flowers have had a frost, 25
The herbs have loste their savoure ;
And Phillida the faire hath lost
" For me her wonted " favour.
Thus all these careful sights,
So kill me in conceit; 30
That now to hope upon delights.
It is but meere deceite.
And therefore, my sweete Muse,
That knowest what helpe is best,
Doe nowe thy heavenlie conninge use 35
To sett my harte at rest :
And in a dreame bewraie
What fate shal be my frende ;
Whether my life shall still decaye,
Or when my sorrowes ende. 4.0
82 LORD THOMAS AND
XV.
LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ELLINOR
^S given (with corrections) from an ancient copy in black
letter, in the Pepys collection, intitled, A tragical ballad
on the tinfortunate love of lord Thomas and fair Ellinor,
together with the downfall of the browne girl. — In the
same collection may be seen an attempt to modernize this old
song, and reduce it to a different measure : A proof of its popu-
larity.
The reader will find a Scottish song on a similar subject to
this, towards the end of this volume, intitled, Lord Thomas and
Lady Annet.
[This is one of the ballads still kept in print in Seven Dials, and
Ritson describes it as having " every appearance of being originally
a minstrel song."
There is a series of ballads on the same subject —
1. Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, (see book iii. No. 4.)
2. Fair Margaret and Sweet William, (see book ii. No. 4.)
3. Sweet Willie and Fair A?i7iie, (Jamieson's Popular Ballads^
i. 22.)
The last named ballad is a combination of the first two, the first
part being similar to Lord Thomas, and the second part to Fair
Margaret r^
ORD Thomas he was a bold forrester,
And a chaser of the kings deere ;
Faire Ellinor was a fine woman,
And lord Thomas he loved her deare.
Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, he sayd,
And riddle us both as one ;
Whether I shall marrye with faire Ellinor,
And let the browne girl alone ?
FAIR ELLINOR. 83
The browne girl she has got houses and lands,
Faire Ellinor she has got none, 10
And therefore I charge thee on my blessing,
To brino- me the browne orirl home.
And as it befelle on a high holidaye,
As many there are beside,
Lord Thomas he went to faire Ellinor, 15
That should have been his bride.
And when he came to faire Ellinors bower,
He knocked there at the ring,
And who was so readye as faire Ellinor,
To lett lord Thomas withinn. ao
What newes, what newes, lord Thomas, she sayd ?
What newes dost thou bring to mee ?
I am come to bid thee to my wedding,
And that is bad newes for thee.
0 God forbid, lord Thomas, she sayd, 45
That such a thing should be done ;
1 thought to have been the bride my selfe.
And thou to have been the bridegrome.
Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, she sayd,
And riddle it all in one ; 30
Whether I shall goe to lord Thomas his wedding.
Or whether shall tarry at home ?
There are manye that are your friendes, daughter,
And manye a one your foe,
Therefore I charge you on my blessing, 35
To lord Thomas his wedding don't goe.
Ver. 29. It should probably be, Read >/ic, read, i>v., i.e. Advise
me, advise.
84 LORD THOMAS AND
There are manye that are my frlendes, mother ;
But were every one my foe,
Betide me life, betide me death.
To lord Thomas his wedding I'ld goe. 40
She cloathed herself in gallant attire,
And her merrye men all in greene ;
And as they rid through every towne,
They took her to be some queene.
But when she came to lord Thomas his gate, 45
She knocked there at the ring ;
And who was so readye as lord Thomas,
To lett faire Ellinor in.
Is this your bride, fair Ellinor sayd ?
Methinks she looks wonderous browne ; 50
Thou mightest have had as faire a woman,
As ever trod on the grounde.
Despise her not, fair Ellin, he sayd,
Despise her not unto mee ;
For better I love thy little finger, 55
Than all her whole bodee.
This browne bride had a little penknife,
That was both long and sharpe,
And betwixt the short ribs and the long,
She prickd faire Ellinor's harte. 60
O Christ thee save, lord Thomas, hee sayd,
Methinks thou lookst wonderous wan ;
Thou usedst to look with as fresh a colour.
As ever the sun shone on.
Oh, art thou blind, lord Thomas ? she sayd, 65
Or canst thou not very well see ?
Oh ! dost thou not see my owne hearts bloode
Run trickling down my knee.
FAIR ELL I NOR. 85
Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side ;
As he walked about the halle, 70
He cut off his brides head from her shoulders,
And threw it against the walle.
He set the hike ao-ainst the orrounde,
And the point against his harte.
There never three lovers together did meete, 75
That sooner againe did parte.
XVI.
CUPID AND CAMPASPE.
'HIS elegant little sonnet is found in the third act of an
old play intitled Alexander and Campaspe, written by
John Lilye, a celebrated writer in the time of queen
Elizabeth. That play was first printed in 1591; but
this copy is giv'en from a later edition.
[These pretty epigrammatic verses occur in act iii. sc. 5. of Lilly's
play as a song by Apelles. The first edition of Campaspe was
printed in 1584, and that of 1591, mentioned above, is the second
edition. This song, however, was omitted in all the editions printed
before that of E. Blount {Six Court Comedies, 1632.)]
^^^^^UPID and my Campaspe playd
fil^^Cyji At cardes for kisses ; Cupid payd :
'/^V^/^^r He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
*^--^^^^y!f^M, His mothers doves, and teame of sparrows;
Loses them too ; then down he throws 5
The coral of his lippe, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how)
With these, the crystal of his browe.
And then the dimple of his chinne ;
All these did my Campaspe winne. zo
86 THE LADY TURNED
At last he set her both his eyes,
She won, and Cupid bUnd did rise.
O Love ! has she done this to thee ?
What shall, alas ! become of mee ?
XVII.
THE LADY TURNED SERVING-MAN
S given from a written copy, containing some improve-
ments (perhaps modern ones), upon the popular ballad,
intitled. The famous flower of Serving-men : or the Lady
turned Serving-man.
[It is printed in the Collection of Old Ballads (i. 216) without
the improvements. After verse 56 the first person is changed to
the third in the original, but Percy altered this and made the first
person run on throughout. Kinloch {Ancient Scottish Ballads,
p. 95) gives a very mutilated and varied version of this ballad in
the Scottish dress under the title of Sweet Willie, which was taken
down from the recitation of an old woman in Lanark. There is a
similar story in Swedish and Danish.]
OU beauteous ladyes, great and small,
I write unto you one and all.
Whereby that you may understand
What I have suffered in the land.
I was by birth a lady faire, 5
An ancient barons only heire.
And when my good old father dyed,^
Then I became a young knightes bride.
And there my love built me a bower,
Bedeck'd with many a fragrant flower ; lo
A braver bower you ne'er did see
Then my true-love did build for mee.
SERVING-MAN, 87
And there I livde a ladye gay,
Till fortune wrought our loves decay ;
For there came foes so fierce a band, 15
That soon they over-run the land.
They came upon us in the night,
And brent my bower, and slew my knight ;
And trembling hid in mans array,
I scant with life escap'd away. »o
In the midst of this extremitie.
My servants all did from me flee :
Thus was I left myself alone.
With heart more cold than any stone.
Yet though my heart was full of care, »5
Heaven would not suffer me to dispaire.
Wherefore in haste I chang'd my name
From faire Elise, to sweet Williame :
And therewithall I cut my haire,
Resolv'd my man's attire to weare; " 30
And in my beaver, hose and band,
I travell'd far through many a land.
At length all wearied with my toil,
I sate me downe to rest awhile ;
My heart it was so fill'd with woe, 35
That downe my cheeke the teares did flow.
It chanc'd the king of that same place
With all his lords a hunting was.
And seeing me weepe, upon the same
Askt who I was, and whence I came. 40
Then to his grace I did replye,
I am a poore and friendlesse boye,
Th(;ugh nobly borne, nowe forc'd to bee
A serving-man of lowe degree.
88 THE LADY TURNED
Stand up, faire youth, the king reply'd, 45
For thee a service I'll provyde :
But tell me first what thou canst do ;
Thou shalt be fitted thereunto.
Wilt thou be usher of my hall,
To wait upon my nobles all ? 50
Or wilt be taster of my wine,
To 'tend on me when I shall dine ?
Or wilt thou be my chamberlaine,
About my person to remaine ?
Or wilt thou be one of my guard, 55
And I will give thee great reward ?
Chuse, gentle youth, said he, thy place.
Then I reply'd. If it please your grace
To shew such favour unto mee.
Your chamberlaine I faine would bee. 60
The king then smiling gave consent.
And straitwaye to his court I went ;
Where I behavde so faithfulhe,
That hee great favour showd to mee.
Now markewhat fortune did provide; 65
The king he would a hunting ride
With all his lords and noble traine.
Sweet William must at home remaine.
Thus being left alone behind.
My former state came in my mind : 70
I wept to see my mans array ;
No longer now a ladye gay.
And meeting with a ladyes vest.
Within the same myself I drest ;
With silken robes, and jewels rare, 75
I deckt me, as a ladye faire :
SERVING-MAN. 89
And taking up a lute straitwaye,
Upon the same I strove to play ;
And sweetly to the same did sing,
As made both hall and chamber rine. 80
"My father was as brave a lord,
As ever Europe might afford ;
My mother was a lady bright ;
My husband was a valiant knight :
" And I myself a ladye gay, 85
Bedeckt with gorgeous rich array;
The happiest lady in the land,
Had not more pleasure at command.
" I had my musicke every day
Harmonious lessons for to play ; 90
I had my virgins fair and free.
Continually to wait on mee.
'• But now, alas ! my husband's dead,
And all my friends are from me fled,
My former days are past and gone, 95
And I am now a servinpf-man."
't3
And fetching many a tender sigh,
As thinking no one then was nigh,
In pensive mood I laid me lowe,
My heart was full, the tears did flowe. 100
The king, who had a huntinge gone,
Grewe weary of his sport anone,
And leaving all his gallant traine,
Turn'd on the sudden home againe :
And when he reach'd his statelye tower, 105
Hearing one sing within his bower,
He stopt to listen, and to see
Who sung there so melodiouslie.
90 THE SERVING-MAN.
Thus heard he everye word I sed,
And saw the pearlye teares I shed, no
And found to his amazement there,
Sweete WiUiam was a ladye faire.
Then stepping in, Faire ladye, rise,
And dry, said he, those lovelye eyes.
For I have heard thy mournful tale, 115
The which shall turne to thy availe.
A crimson dye my face orespred,
I blusht for shame, and hung my head,
To find my sex and story knowne.
When as I thought I was alone. 120
*&'
But to be briefe, his royall grace
Grewe so enamour'd of my face,
The richest gifts he proffered mee,
His mistress if that I would bee.
Ah ! no, my liege, I firmlye sayd, \%s
I'll rather in my grave be layd,
And though your grace hath won my heart,
I ne'er will act soe base a part.
Faire ladye, pardon me, sayd hee.
Thy virtue shall rewarded bee, 130
And since it is soe fairly tryde
Thou shalt become my royal bride.
Then strait to end his amorous strife,
He tooke sweet William to his wife.
The like before was never seene, 13s
A serving-man became a queene.
I
GIL MORRICE. 91
XVIII.
GIL MORRICE.
A Scottish Ballad.
'HE follo^\■ing piece hath run thro' two editions in Scot-
land : the second was printed at Glasgow in 1755, Svo.
Prefixed to them both is an advertisement, setting forth
that the preservation of this poem was owing "to a
lady, who favoured the printers with a copy, as it was carefully
collected from the mouths of old women and nurses;" and " any
reader that can render it more correct or complete," is desired to
oblige the public with such improvements. In consequence of
this advertisement sixteen additional verses have been produced
and handed about in manuscript, which are here inserted in their
proper places : (these are from ver. 109, to ver. 121, and from ver.
124, to ver. 129, but are perhaps, after all, only an ingenious in-
terpolation.)
As this poem lays claim to a pretty high antiquity, we have
assigned it a place among our early pieces : though, after all, there
is reason to believe it has received very considerable modern im-
provements : for in the Editor's ancient MS. collection is a ver}'
old imperfect copy of the same ballad : wherein though the leading
features of the story are the same, yet the colouring here is so much
improved and heightened, and so many additional strokes are
thrown in, that it is evident the whole has undergone a revisal.
This little pathetic tale suggested the plot of the tragedy of
Dou:^las.
Since it was first printed, the Editor has been assured that the
foregoing ballad is still current in many parts of Scotland, where
the hero is universally known by the name of Child Maurice, pro-
nounced by the common people Chcildoi Chcdd ; which occasioned
the mistake.
It may be proper to mention that other copies read ver. no,
thus:
" Shot frae the golden sun."
And ver. 116, as follows:
" His een like azure sheenc."
N.B. The Editor's MS. instead of "lord Barnard," has "John
Stewart;" and instead of " Gil Morricc," Child A[auricc,\<\\\c\\ last
is probably the original title. See above, p. 58.
92 GIL MORRICE,
S^Gil Maurice is one of the most popular of the old ballads and it
is also one of the most corrupt. The present copy is so tinkered
that it is not surprising Burns regarded the ballad as a modern com-
position and classed it with Hardyknute, a position afterwards taken
up by Robert Chambers in his pamphlet The Romantic Scottish Bal-
lads, their epoch atid authorship. The fact however that the story
is preserved in the Folio MS. and also in several other forms ob-
tained from tradition prove it to be an authentic ballad. Jamieson
thinks it has all the appearance of being a true narrative of some
incident that had really taken place. Motherwell devotes several
pages of his Minstrelsy (pp. 257-286) to an account of the various
versions. He says that tradition points out the "green wood" of
the ballad in the ancient forest of Dundaff in Stirlingshire.
The request for additions mentioned above by Percy was a
tempting bait eagerly caught at, and the edition of 1755 was a
made up text with additional verses. Besides vv. 109-120, 125-
128, which are known to be interpolations, Professor Child {Eng-
lish and Scottish Ballads, vol. ii. p. 38) also degrades to the foot of
the page the verses from 1 7 7 to the end, on the authority of Jamie-
son, who says, that " having been attentive to all the proceedings
in most of the trials at the bar of ballad criticism I may venture
to hazard an opinion that the genuine text ends with " ver. 176."
Ritson and Motherwell are of the same opinion. Sir Walter Scott
notes on the interpolated verses, " In the beautiful and simple "
ballad of Gil Morris some affected person has stuck in one or
two factitious verses which, like vulgar persons in a drawing room,
betray themselves by their over-finery."
The fine copy in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii.
p. 500), which Jamieson thought debased and totally unworthy of
the subject, which Chambers calls " a poor, bald imperfect com-
position," and Mr. Hales more accurately designates as " a noble
specimen of our ballad poetry in all its strength," was first printed
by Jamieson {Popular Ballads and Songs, 1 806, vol. i. p. 8), and
is now added to the present version. The last stanza of the Folio
MS. copy is identical with the last stanza but one of Little Mus-
grave and Lady Barnard, with which it seems to have some
connection both in subject and name.
Prof. Aytoun points out that vv. 51-58 of Percy's copy, which
are now placed within brackets, are taken from Lady Maisry, a
ballad obtained from recitation and printed by Jamieson (vol. i.
P- 73)-
" O whan he came to broken briggs
He bent his bow and swam,
And whan he came to the green grass growin'
He slack'd his shoon and ran.
GIL MORRICE. 93
And whan he came to Lord WilUam's yeats
He badena to chap or ca',
But set his bent bow to his breast
And lightly lap the wa'."
It is however only fair to Percy to say that he printed Gil Morice
before Lady Maisry was published.
Gray wrote to a friend, " I have got the old Scotch ballad on
which Douglas was founded ; it is divine, and as long as from
hence [Cambridge] to Aston."
Jamieson says, on the authority of Sir Walter Scott, that after
the appearance of Home's Douglas six additional stanzas, be-
ginning—
" She heard him speak, but fell despair
Sat rooted in her heart
She heard him, and she heard nae mair
Though sair she rued the smart,"
were written to complete the ballad, and in accordance with the
final catastrophe of the tragedy Lord Barnard rushes into the
thickest of the fight —
■o'
" and meets the death he sought."
"When the play was produced in Edinburgh in 1756 the heroine
was named Lady Barnard, and the alteration to Lady Randolph
was made on its appearance in England in the following year.
Jamieson gives three stanzas of a traditional version of the
ballad, the whole of which neither he nor Motherwell could
recover, although Mr. Sharpe told the latter that they were incor-
porated in an Annandale version which contained a novel feature
in the story.
Motherwell prints a version called CJiicld Morice, which he took
down from the recitation of an old woman of 70 in 1827, and
which she had learned in infancy from her grandmother. She told
Mother\vell " that at a later period of her life she also committed
to memory Gill Morice, which began with young lasses like her
to be a greater favourite, and more fashionable than the set which
her grandmother and other old folks used to sing under the title
of Cliicld MoriceP He also ])rints Child Moryce, taken down
from the singing of widow M'Cormitk of Paisley in 1825, and
adds his opinion that Morice and Maurice are evident corruj)tions
of Noricc— a foster child. The story of Langhome's Otaen of
Carron is also taken from this ballad. J
94 GIL MORRICE,
IL MORRICE was an erles son,
His name it waxed wide ;
It was nae for his great riches,
Nor yet his mickle pride ;
Bot it was for a lady gay, 5
That livd on Carron side.
Quhair sail I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen ;
That will gae to lord Barnards ha',
And bid his lady cum ? 10
And ye maun rin my errand, Willie ;
And ye may rin wi' pride ;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot.
On horse-back ye sail ride.
O no ! Oh no ! my master dear ! 15
I dare nae for my life ;
I'll no gae to the bauld barons,
For to triest furth his wife.
My bird Willie, my boy Willie ;
My dear Willie, he sayd : 20
How can ye strive against the stream?
For I sail be obeyd.
Bot, O my master dear ! he cryd.
In grene wod ye're your lain ;^
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ye rede,^ 25
For fear ye should be tain.
Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi speid :
If ye refuse my heigh command,
111 gar your body bleid. 3°
Ver. 1 1 . something seems wanting here.
[1 alone by yourself. ^ advise.]
GIL MORRICE. 95
Gae bid hir take this gay mantel,
'Tis a' gowd bot the hem ;
Bid hir cum to the glide grene wode,
And brincT nane bot hir lain :
And there it is, a silken sarke, 35
Her ain hand sewd the sleive ;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld barons leave.
Yes, I will gae your black errand,
Though it be to your cost ; 40
Sen ye by me will nae be warn'd,
In it ye sail find frost.
The baron he is a man of might.
He neir could bide to taunt,
As ye will see before its nicht, 45
How sma' ye hae to vaunt.
And sen I maun your errand rin
Sae sair against my will,
I'se mak a vow and keip it trow,
It sail be done for ill. 50
[And quhen he came to broken brigue.
He bent his bow and swam ;
And quhen he came to grass growing.
Set down his feet and ran.
And quhen he came to Barnards ha', 55
Would neither chap' nor ca' :
Bot set his bent bow to his breist,
And lichtly lap the wa'.]
He wauld nae tell the man his errand.
Though he stude at the gait ; 60
Bot straiht into the ha' he cam,
Ouhair they were set at meit.
Vcr. 32, and 68, perhaps, ^hout the hc7n. V. 58. Could this be
the wall of the tustle ?
\} knock.]
96 GIL MORRICE.
Hail ! hail ! my gentle sire and dame !
My message winna waite ;
Dame, ye maun to the gude grene wod 65
Before that it be late.
Ye're bidden tak this gay mantel,
Tis a' gowd bot the hem :
You maun gae to the gude grene wode,
Ev'n by your sel alane. 70
And there it is, a silken sarke,
Your ain hand sewd the sleive ;
Ye maun gae speik to Gill Morice ;
Speir nae bauld barons leave.
The lady stamped wi' hir foot, 75
And winked wi' hir ee ;
Bot a' that she coud say or do,
Forbidden he wad nae bee.
Its surely to my bo w'r- woman ;
. It neir could be to me. go
I brocht it to lord Barnards lady ;
I trow that ye be she.
Then up and spack the wylie nurse,
(The bairn upon hir knee)
If it be cum frae Gill Morice, 85
It's deir welcum to mee.
Ye leid, ye leid, ye filthy nurse,
Sae loud I heird ye lee ;
I brocht it to lord Barnards lady ;
I trow ye be nae shee. 90
Then up and spack the bauld baron.
An angry man was hee ;
Ver. 88. Perhaps, loud say I heir e.
GIL MORRICE. 97
He's tain the table \\\ his foot,
Sae has he \vi' his knee ;
Till siller cup and 'mazer'* dish 95
In tUnders he o-ard tlee.'
Gae bring a robe of your eliding,^
That hings upon the pin ;
And I'll gae to the gude grene wode,
And speik wi' your lemman. 100
O bide at hame, now lord Barnard,
I warde ye bide at hame ;
Neir wyte^ a man for violence,
That neir wate* ye wi' nane.
Gil Morice.'sate in gude grene wode, 105
He whisded and he sang' :
O what mean a' the folk coming,
My mother tarries lang.
[His hair was like the threeds of gold,
Drawne frae Minervas loome : no
His 4ipps like roses drapping dew,
His breath was a' perfume.
His brow was like the mountain snae
Gilt by the morning beam :
His cheeks like living roses glow : 115
His een like azure stream.
The boy was clad in robes of grene,
Sweete as the infant spring :
And like the mavis on the bush,
He gart the vallies ring.] 120
The baron came to the grene wode,
Wi' mickle dule and care,
And there he first spied Gill Moricc
Kameing his )ellow hair :
• /. e. a drinking cup of maple : other edit, read czar.
\} in splinters he made fly. - clothing. ^ blame.
• blamed. J
3 H
98 GIL MORRICE.
[That sweetly wavd around his face, 125
That face beyond compare :
He sang sae sweet it might dispel,
A' rage but fell despair.]
Nae wonder, nae wonder, Gill Morice,
My lady loed thee weel, 130
The fairest part of my bodie
Is blacker than thy heel.
Yet neir the less now, Gill Morice,
For a thy great beautie,
Ye's rew the day ye eir was born ; 135
That head sail gae wi' I'e^e.
Now he has drawn his trusty brand,
And slaited on the strae ;^
And thro' Gill Morice' fair body
He's gar cauld iron gae. 14.0
And he has tain Gill Morice' head
And set it on a speir ;
The meanest man in a' his train
Has gotten that head to bear.
And he has tain Gill Morice up, 145
Laid him across his steid,
And brocht him to his painted bowr
And laid him on a bed.
The lady sat on castil wa',
Beheld baith dale and doun ; 150
And there she saw Gill Morice' head
Cum trailing to the toun.
Ver. 128. So Milton,—
" Vernal delight and joy: able to drive
All sadness but despair." — B. iv. v. 155.
\} and wiped it on the grass.]
GIL MORRICE. 99
Far better I loe that bluidy head.
Both and that yellow hair,
Than lord Barnard, and a' his lands, 155
As they lig here and thair.
And she has tain her Gill Morice,
And kissd baith mouth and chin :
I was once as fow of Gill Morice,
As the hip is o' the stean.^ 160
I got ye in my father's house,
Wi' mickle sin and shame ;
I brocht thee up in gude grene wode,
Under the heavy rain.
Oft have I by thy cradle sitten, 165
And fondly seen thee sleip ;
But now I gae about thy grave.
The saut tears for to weip.
And syne she kissd his bluidy cheik,
And syne his bluidy chin : 170
O better I loe my Gill Morice
Than a' my kith and kin !
Away, away, ye ill woman,
And an il deith mait ye dee :
Gin I had kend he'd bin your son. 175
He'd neir bin slain for mee.
[Obraid me not, my lord Barnard !
Obraid me not for shame !
Wi' that saim speir O pierce my heart!
And put me out o' pain. iSo
Since nothincr bot Gill Morice head
Thy jelous rage could quell.
Let that saim hand now tak hir life,
That neir to thee did ill.
[' as the berry is of the stone. )
100 GIL MORRICE.
To me nae after days nor nichts 185
Will eir be saft or kind ;
I'll fill the air with heavy sighs,
And greet till I am blind.
Enouch of blood by me's bin spilt,
Seek not your death frae mee ; 190
I rather lourd it had been my sel
Than eather him or thee.
With waefo wae I hear your plaint ;
Sair, sair I rew the deid,
That eir this cursed hand of mine 195
Had gard his body bleid.
Dry up your tears, my winsome dame,
Ye neir can heal the wound ;
Ye see his head upon the speir,
His heart's blude on the ground. 200
I curse the hand that did the deid,
The heart that thocht the ill ;
The feet that bore me wi' silk speid,
The comely youth to kill.
I'll ay lament for Gill Morice, 205
As gin he were mine ain ;
I'll neir forget the dreiry day
On which the youth was slain.]
HE following is copied from the Folio MS. (ed. H. & F.
vol. 2. pp. 502-506.)
Childe Maurice hunted ithe siluen wood,
he hunted itt round about,
& noebodye that he ffound therin,
nor none there was with-out. 4
& he tooke his siluer combe in his hand,
to kembe his yellow lockes ;
he sayes, " come hither, thou litle ffoot page,
that runneth lowlye by my knee ; 8
ffor thou shalt goe to lohn stewards wiffe
& pray her speake with mee.
GIL MORRICE. loi
*' & as itt fialls out many times,
as knotts beene knitt on a kell, i»
or Marchant men gone to Leeue London
either to buy ware or sell,
" I, and greete thou doe that Ladye well,
euer soe well ftroe mee, — i6
And as itt ftalles out many times
as any hart can thinke,
" as schoole masters are in any schoole house
writting with pen and linke, — ao
ffor if I might, as well as shee may,
this night 1 wold with her speake.
" & heere I send her a mantle of greene,
as greene as any grasse, 24
& bidd her come to the siluer wood
to hunt with Child Maurice ;
" (S: there I send her a ring of gold,
a ring of precyous stone, z8
& bidd her come to the siluer wood ;
let ffor no kind of man."
one while this litle boy he yode,
* another while he ran ; 32
vntill he came to lohn Stewards hall,
I-wis he neuer blan.
& of nurture the child had good ;
hee ran vp hall & bower ffree, 36
& when he came to this Lady ffaire,
sayes, " god you saue and see !
" I am come ffrom Ch[i]ld Maurice,
a message vnto thee ; 40
& Child Maurice, he greetes you well,
& euer soe well ffrom mee.
" & as itt ffalls out oftentimes,
as knotts beene knitt on a kell, 44
or Marchant men gone to leeue London,
cither ffor to buy ware or sell,
" & as oftentimes he greetes you well
as any hart can thinke, 48
or schoole masters in any schoole
wryting with pen and inke ;
68
T02 GIL MORRICE.
" & heere he sends a Mantle of greene,
as greene as any grasse, S^-
& he bidds you come to the siluer wood,
to hunt with Child Maurice.
" & heere he s6nds you a ring of gold,
a ring of the precyous stone, 5^
he prayes you to come to the siluer wood,
let ffor no kind of man."
" now peace, now peace, thou litle ffootpage,
ffor Christes sake, I pray thee ! 60
ffor if my lord heare one of these words,
thou must be hanged hye ! "
lohn steward stood vnder the Castle wall,
& he wrote the words euerye one, 64
& he called vnto his horskeeper,
" make readye you my steede ! "
I, and soe hee did to his Chamberlaine,
" make readye then my weede ! "
& he cast a lease ^ vpon his backe,
& he rode to the siluer wood ;
& there he sought all about,
about the siluer wood, Ti-
& there he ffound him Child Maurice
sitting vpon a blocke,
with a siluer combe in his hand
kembing his yellow locke. 76
he sayes, " how now, how now. Child Maurice ?
alacke ! how may this bee ?"
but then stood vp him Child Maurice,
5z: sayd tJiese words trulye : 80
*' I doe not know your Ladye," he said,
" if that I doe her see."
" ffor thou hast sent her loue tokens,
more now then 2 or 3 ; 84
. " ffor thou hast sent her a mantle of greene,
as greene as any grasse,
& bade her come to the siluer woode
to hunt with Child Maurice ; 8&
^ leash, thong, cord? — F.
GIL MORRICE. 103
" & thou [hast] sent her a ring of gold,
a ring of precyous stone,
& bade her come to the siluer wood,
let ftbr noe kind of man. gz
" and by my ffaith, now, Child Maurice,
the tone of vs shall dye ! "
" Now be my troth," sayd Child Maurice, ^
"& that shall not be I." 96
but hee pulled forth a bright bro\vne sword
& dryed itt on the grasse,
& soe ffa^t he smote att lohn Steward,
I-wisse he neuer rest. 100
then hee pulled fforth his bright browne sword,
& dr>'ed itt on his sleeue ;
& the ffirst good stroke lohn Stewart stroke,
Child Maurice head he did cleeue; 104
& he pricked itt on his swords poyntj
went singing there beside,
& he rode till he came to that Ladye ffaire
wheras this ladye Lyed ; icS
and sayes " dost thou know Child Maurice head
. if that thou dost itt see ?
& lapp itt soft, & kisse itt offt,
ffor thou louedst him better then mee." 112
but when shee looked on Child Maurice head
shee neuqr spake words but 3,
" I neuer beare no Child but one,
& you haue slaine him trulye." n6
sayes, " wicked by my merry men all,
I gaue Meate, drinke, & Clothe !
but cold they not haue holdcn me
when I was in all that wrath? 120
'.' ffor 1 haue slaine one of the curteouse[s]t Knights
that euer bestrode a steed !
soe haue I done one [of J the fairest Ladyes
that cuer ware womans weede !" 124
ffins]
THE END OF THE Fn<ST BOOK.
RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.
SERIES THE THIRD.
BOOK 11.
T
THE LEGEND OF SIR GUY
lONTAINS a short summary of the exploits of this
famous champion, as recorded in the old story books ]
and is commonly intitled, " 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, and dyed in a cave of craggy rocke, a mile distant from
Warwick."
The history of Sir Guy, tho' now very properly resigned to
children, was once admired by all readers of wit and taste : for
taste and wt had once their childhood. Although of English
growth, it was early a favourite witli other nations : it appeared in
French in 1525; and is alluded to in the old Spanish romance
Tirafite el Blanco, which, it is believed, was written not long after
the year 1430. See advertisement to the French translation, 2
vols. i2mo.
The original whence all these stories are e.xtracted is a very
ancient romance in old English verse, which is quoted by Chaucer
as a celebrated piece even in his time (viz. : —
" Men speken of romances of price,
Of Morne childe and Ippotis,
Of licvis, and sir Guy," &c.— A', of Tliop.)
and was usually sung to the harp at Christmas dinners and
bridcales, as we learn from Puttcnham's Art of Poetry, .jto. i5<S9.
This ancient romance is not wholly lost. An imijcrfecl copy in
black letter, " Imprynted at London for Wylliam Copland,"
in 34 sheets 4to. without date, is still ]jreservcd among Mr. Gar-
fick's collection of old plays. As a specimen of the poetry of
this antique rhymer, take his description of the dragon mentioned
in v. 105 of the following ballad : —
io8 THE LEGEND OF
A messenger came to the king.
Syr king, he sayd, lysten me now,
For bad tydinges I bring you.
In Northumberlande there is no man,
But that they be slayne everychone :
For there dare no man route,
By twenty myle rounde aboute,
For doubt of a fowle dragon.
That sleath men and beastes downe.
He is blacke as any cole,
Rugged as a rough fole ;
His bodye from the navill upwarde
No man may it pierce it is so harde ;
His neck is great as any summere ;
He renneth as swifte as any distrere ;
Pawes he hath as a lyon :
All that he toucheth he sleath dead downe.
Great winges he hath to flight.
That is no man that bare him might.
There may no man fight him agayne,
But that he sleath him certayne :
For a fowler beast then is he,
Ywis of none never heard ye."
Sir William Dugdale is of opinion that the story of Guy is
not wholly apocryphal, tho' he acknowledges the monks have
sounded out his praises too hyperbolically. In particular, he
gives the duel fought with the Danish champion as a real historical
truth, and fixes the date of it in the year 926, ^tat. Guy, 67. See
his Wanvickshire.
The following is written upon the same plan as ballad v. book
i., but which is the original and which the copy cannot be decided.
This song is ancient, as may be inferred from the idiom preserved
in the margin, v. 94, 102 : and was once popular, as appears
from Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, act 2, sc. ult.
It is here pubhshed from an ancient MS. copy in the editor's old
folio volume, collated with two printed ones, one of which is in
black letter in the Pepys collection.
[Guy was one of the most popular of the heroes of romance, and
the Folio MS. contains three pieces upon his history, viz., the two
printed here and Guy and Colbrand.
The original of the present ballad in the Folio MS., entitled
Gicy afid Phillis (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 201), is a
mere fragment beginning with verse 89. Percy tore out certain
leaves to send to the printer, and in consequence the whole of
SIR GUY. 109
King Estmere and the beginning of this ballad are lost. Alterations
have been made in nearly every verse by the help of the printed
copies. Guy and Phillis was entered on the Stationers' books, 5th
Januar}', 1591-2.
We are told by Dugdale that an English traveller, about the
year 14 10, was hospitably received at Jerusalem by the Soldan's
heutenant, who, hearing that Lord Beauchamp "was descended
from the famous Guy of A\'arwick, 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."
Dugdale's authority for this stor}- was John Rous, a priest of the
chapel at Guy's Clit^", near Warwick, who compiled a biography
of the hero, in which all the incidents of the romance are narrated
as sober fact. The constant praises of the hero bored some people,
and Corbet, in his Iter Borca/c, expressed the hope that he should
hear no more of him —
" May all the ballads be calld in and dye
Which sing the warrs of Colebrand and Sir Guy."
Much valuable information on this subject will be found in Mr.
Hale's interesting introduction to the Guy poems in the Folio MS.]
AS ever knight for ladyes sake
Soe tost in love, as I sir Guy
For Phelis fayre, that lady bright
As ever man beheld with eye }
She gave me leave myself to try, 5
The valiant knight with sheeld and speare,
Ere that her love shee wold orant me ;
Which made mee venture far and neare.
Then proved I a baron bold,
In deeds of armes the doughtyest knight 10
That in those dayes in England was,
With sworde and speare in fcild to fight.
Vcr. 9. The proud Sir Ciuy, PC.
no THE LEGEND OF
An English man I was by birthe :
In faith of Christ a christyan true :
The wicked lawes of infidells is
I sought by prowesse to subdue.
* Nine' hundred twenty yeere and odde
After our Saviour Christ his birth,
When king Athelstone wore the crowne,
I Hved heere upon the earth. 20
Sometime I was of Warwicke erle,
And, as I sayd, of very truth
A ladyes love did me constraine
To seeke strange ventures in my youth.
To win me fame by feates of armes 25
In strange and sundry heathen lands ;
Where I atchieved for her sake
Right dangerous conquests with my hands.
For first I sayled to Normandye,
And there I stoutlye wan in fight 30
The emperours daughter of Almaine,
From manye a vallyant worthye knight.
Then passed I the seas to Greece
To helpe the emperour in his right ;
Against the mightye souldans hoaste 35
Of puissant Persians for to fight.
Where I did slay of Sarazens,
And heathen pagans, manye a man ;
And slew the souldans cozen deere,
Who had to name doughtye Coldran. 40
Eskeldered a famous knight
To death likewise I did pursue :
And Elmayne king of Tyre alsoe.
Most terrible in fiorht to viewe.
Ver. 17. Two hundred, MS. and P.
SIR GUY. Ill
I went into the souldans hoast, +s
Being thither on embassage sent,
And brought his head awaye with mee ;
I havino- slaine him in his tent.
There was a drao;-on in that land
Most fiercelye mett me by the waye 50
As hee a lyon did pursue,
Which I myself did alsoe slay.
Then soon I past the seas from Greece,
And came to Pavye land aright :
Where I the duke of Pavye killed, 55
His hainous treason to requite.
To England then I came with speede,
To wedd faire Phelis lady bright :
For love of whome I travelled farr
To try my manhood and my might. 60
But when I had espoused her,
I stayd with her but fortye dayes,
Ere that I left this ladye faire,
And went from her beyond the seas.
All cladd in gray, in pilgrim sort, 65
My voyage from her I did take
Unt(3 the blessed Holy-land,
Eor Jesus Christ my Saviours sake.
Where I erle Jonas did redceme.
And all his sonnes which were fifteene, 70
Who with the cruell Sarazens
In prison for long time had beene.
I slew the gyant Amarant
In batt(;l ficrci.'lye hand to hand :
And doughty Barknard killed I, 75
A treacherous knight of Pavye land.
112 THE LEGEND OF
Then I to England came againe,
And here with Colbronde fell I fought :
An ugly gyant, which the Danes
Had for their champion hither brought. 80
I overcame him in the feild,
And slewe him soone right valliantlye ;
Wherebye this land I did redeeme
From Danish tribute utterlye.
And afterwards I offered upp 85
The use of weapons solemnlye
At Winchester, whereas I fought,
In sight of manye farr and nye.
' But first,' neare Winsor, I did slaye
A bore of passing might and strength ; 90
Whose like in England never was
For hugenesse both in bredth, and length.
Some of his bones in Warwicke yett,
Within the castle there doe lye :
One of his sheeld-bones to this day 95
Hangs in the citye of Coventrye.
On Dunsmore heath I alsoe slewe
A monstrous wyld and cruell beast,
Calld the Dun-cow of Dunsmore heath ;
Which manye people had opprest. 100
Some of her bones in Warwicke yett
Still for a monument doe lye ;
And there exposed to lookers viewe
As wonderous strange, they may espye.
A dragon in Northumberland, 105
I alsoe did in fight destroye,
Which did bothe man and beast oppresse,
And all the countrye sore annoye.
Ver. 94, 102, doth lye, MS.
SIR GUY. II
o
At lenofth to Warwicke I did come,
Like pilg^rim poore and was not knowne; no
And there I lived a hermitts life
A mile and more out of the towne.
Where with my hands I hewed a house
Out of a craggy rocke of stone ;
And lived like a palmer poore 115
Within that cave myself alone :
And daylye came to begg my bread
Of Phelis att my castle gate ;
Not knowne unto my loved wiffe
Who dailye mourned for her mate. 120
Till att the last I fell sore sicke,
Yea sicke soe sore that I must dye ;
I sent to her a ring of golde,
By which shee knew me presentlye.
Then shee repairing to the cave 125
Before that I gave up the ghost ;
Herself closd up my dying eyes :
My Phelis faire, whom I lovd most.
Thus dreadful death did me arrest,
To bring my corpes unto the grave; 130
And like a palmer dyed I,
Whcrby I sought my soule to save.
My body that endured this toyle,
Though now it be consumed to mold ;
My statue faire engraven in stone, 135
lu Warwicke still you may behold.
114 GUY AND AMARANT.
II.
GUY AND AMARANT.
^^^^HE Editor found this Poem in his ancient folio manu-
script among the old ballads ; he was desirous therefore
that it should still accompany them ; and as it is not
altogether devoid of merit, its insertion here will be
pardoned.
Although this piece seems not imperfect, there is reason to
believe that it is only part of a much larger poem, which contained
the whole history of sir Guy : for upon comparing it with the com-
mon story book 1 2mo. we find the latter to be nothing more than
this poem reduced to prose : which is only effected by now and
then altering the rhyme, and throwing out some few of the poetical
ornaments. The disguise is so slight, that it is an easy matter to
pick complete stanzas in any page of that book.
The author of this poem has shown some invention. Though
he took the subject from the old romance quoted before, he has
adorned it afresh, and made the story intirely his own.
This poem has been discovered to be a fragment of, " The
famous historic of Guy earl of Warwicke, by Samuel Rowlands,
London, printed by J. Bell, 1649, 4to." in xii cantos, beginning
thus:
" When dreadful Mars in armour every day."
Whether the edition in 1649, was the first, is not known, but the
author Sam. Rowlands was one of the minor poets who lived in
the reigns of Q. Elizabeth and James I. and perhaps later. His
other poems are chiefly of the religious kind, which makes it pro-
bable that the hist, of Guy was one of his earliest performances. —
There are extant of his (i.) " The betraying of Christ, Judas in
dispaire, the seven tuords of our Saviour on the crosse, with other
poems on the passion, ^-c. 1598, 4to. (Ames Typ. p. 428.)— (2.) A
Theatre of delightful Recreation. Lond. printed for A. Johnson,
1605," 4to. (Penes editor.) This is a book of poems on subjects
chiefly taken from the old Testament. (3.) ''Memory of Christ's
miracles, in verse. Lond. 16 18, 4to." (4.) "■ Heaven's glory, earth's
vanity, and hell's horror. Lond. 1638, 8vo." (These two in Bod.
Cat.)
In the present edition the following poem has been much
improved from the printed copy.
GUY AND A MA RANT. 115
[This poem is a very poor thing and looks very like a joke in
some parts. In the Folio MS. Percy has written " By the elegance
of language and easy flow of the versification this poem should be
more modern than the rest."
Mr. Furnivall adds to this expression of opinion the following
note, " the first bombastic rhodomontade aflfair in the book. Cer-
tainly modern and certainly bad" (Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furni-
vall, vol. ii. p. 136.) Collations from the MS. are added at the
foot of the page]
^UV journeyes towards that sanctlfyed
ground,
Whereas the J ewes fayre citye some-
time stood,
Wherin our Saviour's sacred head was crowned.
And where for sinful! man he shed his blood :
To see the sepulcher was his intent, 5
The tombe that Joseph unto Jesus lent.
With tedious miles he tyred his wearye feet,
And passed desart places full of danger,
At last with a most woefull wight* did meet,
A man that unto sorrow was noe stranger : 10
For he had fifteen sonnes, made captives all
To slavish bondage, in extremest thrall.
A gyant called Amarant detaind them,
Whom noe man durst encounter for his strength :
Who in a castle, which he held, had chaind them: 15
Guy questions, where ? and understands at length
The place not farr. — Lend me thy sword, quoth hee,
He lend my manhood all thy sonnes to free.
With that he goes, and lays upon the dore.
Like one that saycs, I must, and will come in : 20
[Ver. I. journeyed ore the. V. 20. he sayes that must. MS.]
♦ Eric Jonas, mentioned in the foregoing ballad.
ii6 GUY AND AMARANT.
The gyant never was soe rowz'd before ;
For noe such knocking at his gate had bin :
Soe takes his keyes, and clubb, and cometh out
Staring with ireful countenance about.
Sirra, quoth hee, what busines hast thou heere ? 25
Art come to feast the crowes about my walls ?
Didst never heare, noe ransome can him cleere,
That in the compasse of my furye falls :
For making me to take a porters paines,
With this same clubb I will dash out thy braines. 30
Gyant, quoth Guy, y'are quarrelsome I see,
Choller and you seem very neere of kin :
Most dangerous at the clubb belike you bee ;
I have bin better armed, though nowe goe thin ;
But shew thy utmost hate, enlarge thy spight, 35
Keene is my weapon, and shall doe me right.
Soe draws his sword, salutes him with the same
About the head, the shoulders, and the side:
Whilst his erected clubb doth death proclaime, •
Standinge with huge Colossus' spacious stride, 40
Putting such vigour to his knotty beame,
That like a furnace he did smoke extreame.
But on the ground he spent his strokes in vaine,
For Guy was nimble to avoyde them still,
And ever ere he heav'd his clubb againe, 45
Did brush his plated coat against his will :
Att such advantage Guy wold never fayle.
To bang him soundlye in his coate of mayle.
[Ver. 21. the gyant, he was neere soe. V. 25. sais hee. V. 26.
my crowes about the walls. V. 27. cold him. V. 31. saies Guy
your quarrelsome. V. 32. are something neere. V. 33. most not
in MS., a club. V. 36. heere is the wepon that must doe. V. 37,
Soe takes. V. 38. sides. V. 45. and ere he cold recovers clubb
againe. V. 46. did beate. V. 48. to beate.]
GUY AND AMARANT. 117
Att last through thirst the gyant feeble grewe,
And sayd to Guy, As thou'rt of humane race, 50
Shew itt in this, give natures wants their dewe,
Let me but goe, and drinke in yonder place :
Thou canst not yeeld to " me" a smaller thing,
Than to graunt life, thats given by the spring.
I graunt thee leave, quoth Guye, goe drink thy last, 55
Go pledge the dragon, and the salvage bore*:
Succeed the tragedyes that they have past.
But never thinke to taste cold water more :
Drinke deepe to Death and unto him carouse :
Bid him receive thee in his earthen house. 60
Soe to the spring he goes, and slakes his thirst ;
Takeing the water in extremely like
Some wracked shipp that on a rocke is burst,
Whose forced hulke against the stones does stryke ;
Scooping it in soe fast with both his hands, 65
That Guy admiring to behold it, stands.
Come on, quoth Guy, let us to worke againe,
Thou stayest about thy liquor overlong ;
The fish, which in the river doe remaine,
Will want thereby ; thy drinking doth them wrong :
But I will see their satisfaction made, 71
With gyants blood they must, and shall be payd.
Villaine, quoth Amarant, He crush thee streight ;
Thy life shall pay thy daring toungs offence :
This clubb, which is about some hundred weight, 75
Is deathcs commission to dispatch thee hence :
[Ver. 49. att last through strength, Amarant feeble grew. V. 51.
nature wants her. V. 54. then to grant. V. 55. I give. V. 56.
to pledge, beare. V. 58. to drinke cold. V. 59. and after that
carrouse. V. 63. on some rocke. V. 64. bulke doe stryke. V. 66.
behold him. V. 67. l.ts to one. V. 76. has deathes.]
♦ Which Guy had slain before.
ii8 GUY AND AMARANT.
Dresse thee for ravens dyett I must needes ;
And breake thy bones, as they were made of reedes.
Incensed much by these bold pagan bostes,
Which worthye Guy cold ill endure to heare, 80
He hewes upon those bigg supporting postes,
Which like two pillars did his body beare :
Amarant for those wounds in choller growes
And desperatelye att Guy his clubb he throwes :
Which did directly on his body light, 85
Soe violent, and weighty there-withall,
That downe to ground on sudden came the knight ;
And, ere he cold recover from the fall.
The gyant gott his clubb againe in fist.
And aimd a stroke that wonderfullye mist. 90
Traytor, quoth Guy, thy falshood He repay,
This coward act to intercept my bloode.
Sayes Amarant, He murther any way.
With enemyes all vantages are good :
O could I poyson in thy nostrills blowe, 95
Besure of it I wold dispatch thee soe.
Its well, said Guy, thy honest thoughts appeare.
Within that beastlye bulke where devills dwell ;
W^hich are thy tenants while thou livest heare.
But will be landlords when thou comest in hell : 100
Vile miscreant, prepare thee for their den,
Inhumane monster, hatefull unto men.
But breathe thy selfe a time, while I goe drinke,
For flameing Phoebus with his fyerye eye
Torments me soe with burning heat, I thinke 105
My thirst wold serve to drinke an ocean drye :
[Ver. 79. att this bold pagans bostes. V. 86. soe heavy and soe
weaghtye, V. 88. his fall. V. 89. in his fist. V. 90. and stroke a
blow. V. 96. I wold destroy. V. 102. hurtfull.]
GUY AND AMARANT. 119
Forbear a litle, as I delt with thee.
Quoth Amarant, 'Thou hast noe foole of mee.
Noe, sillye wretch, my father taught more witt,
How I shold use such enemyes as thou; no
By all my gods I doe rejoice at itt,
To understand that thirst constraines thee now ;
For all the treasure, that the world containes,
One drop of water shall not coole thy vaines.
Releeve my foe ! why, 'twere a madmans part : 115
Refresh an adversarye to my wrong !
If thou imagine this, a child thou art :
Noe, fellow, I have known the world too long
To be soe simple : now I know thy want,
A minutes space of breathing I'll not grant. 120
And with these words heaving aloft his clubb
Into the ayre, he swings the same about :
Then shakes his lockes, and doth his temples rubb,
And, like the Cyclops, in his pride doth strout:^
Sirra, sayes hee, I have you at a lift, 125
Now you are come unto your latest shift.
Perish forever : with this stroke I send thee
A medicine, that will doe thy thirst much good ;
Take noe more care for drinke before I end thee,
And then wee'll have carouses of thy blood : 130
Here's at thee with a butchers downright blow,
To please my furye with thine overthrow.
Infernall, false, obdurate fecnd, said Guy,
That seemst a lumpe of crucltye from hell ;
Ungratefull monster, since thou dost deny 135
The thing to mee whcrin I used thee well :
, [Vcr. 120. space to thee I will not. V. 128. that not in MS.
V. 133. (]iiy said. V. 134. sccmes. V. 135. ingratcfull monster
since thou hast dcnyd.j
[' strut.]
I20 GUV AND AMARANT.
With more revenge, than ere my sword did make,
On thy accursed head revenge lie take.
Thy gyants longitude shall shorter shrlnke,
Except thy sun-scorcht skin be weapon proof : 14-0
Farewell my thirst ; I doe disdaine to drinke,
Streames keepe your waters to your owne behoof;
Or let wild beasts be welcome thereunto ;
With those pearle drops I will not have to do.
Here, tyrant, take a taste of my good-will, hs
For thus I doe begin my bloodye bout :
You cannot chuse but like the greeting ill ;
It is not that same clubb will beare you out ;
And take this payment on thy shaggye crowne. —
A blowe that brought him with a vengeance downe. 150
Then Guy sett foot upon the monsters brest.
And from his shoulders did his head divide ;
Which with a yawninge mouth did gape, unblest ;
Noe dragons jawes were ever seene soe wide
To open and to shut, till life was spent. 155
Then Guy tooke keyes and to the castle went.
Where manye woefull captives he did find.
Which had beene tyred with extremityes ;
Whom he in freindly manner did unbind,
And reasoned with them of their miseryes : 160
Eche told a tale with teares, and sighes, and cryes.
All weeping to him with complaining eyes.
There tender ladyes in darke dungeons lay.
That were surprised in the desart wood,
And had noe other dyett everye day, 165
But flesh of humane creatures for their food :
Some with their lovers bodyes had beene fed,
And in their wombes their husbands buryed.
[Ver. 140. doe weapon prove. V. 142. behoves. V. 145. Hold,
tyrant. V. 160. miserye. V. 163. dungeon. V. 166. then flesh.]
GUY AND AMARANT. 121
Now he bethinkes him of his being there, 169
To enlarge the wronged brethren from their woes ;
And, as he searcheth, doth great clamours heare,
By which sad sound's direction on he goes,
Untill he findes a darksome obscure gate,
Arm'd strongly ouer all with iron plate.
That he unlockes, and enters, where appeares, 175
The strangest object that he ever saw ;
Men that with famishment of many yeares,
Were like deathes picture, which the painters draw;
Divers of them were hanged by eche thombe ;
Others head-downward : by the middle some. 180
With diligence he takes them from the walle,
With lybertye their thraldome to acquaint :
Then the perplexed knight their father calls,
And sayes, Receive thy sonnes though poore and
faint :
I promisd you their lives, accept of that ; 185
But did not* warrant you they shold be fat.
The castle I doe give thee, heere's the keyes,
Where tyranye for many yeeres did dwell :
Procure the gentle tender ladyes ease,
For pittyes sake, use wronged women well : 190
Men easilye revenge the wrongs men do :
But poore weake women have not strength thereto.
The good old man, even overjoyed with this.
Fell on the ground, and wold have kist Guys feete :
Father, quoth he, refraine soe base a kiss, 195
For age to honor youth I hold unmeete :
Ambitious pryde hath hurt mee all it can,
I goe to mortilie a sinfiill man.
[Ver. 178. Will were. V. i8r. walls. V. 183. thenuhcr. V. 186.
promise you. V. 190. pittyc sake. V. 191. men may easilye
revenge the deeds men doe. V. 192. no strength. M.S.J
122 THE AULD GOOD-MAN.
III.
THE AULD GOOD-MAN.
A Scottish Song.
HAVE not been able to meet with a more ancient
copy of this humourous old song, than that printed in
the Tea- Table miscellany, &'c. which seems to have
admitted some corruptions.
[This song is printed in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany as old,
and it is also given in the Orpheus Caledoniiis, 1725. "Auld good-
man" means a first husband.]
?:^(PJ)ATE in an evening forth I went
^^^^ A little before the sun gade down,
"* And there I chanc't, by accident,
To light on a battle new begun :
A man and his wife wer fawn^ in a strife, 5
I canna weel tell ye how it began ;
But aye she wail'd her wretched life,
Cryeng, Evir alake, mine auld goodman !
He.
Thy auld goodman, that thou tells of.
The country kens where he was born, 10
Was but a silly poor vagabond,
And ilka ane leugh him to scorn :
For he did spend and make an end
Of gear ' his fathers nevir' wan ;
He gart the poor stand frae the door ; 15
Sae tell nae mair of thy auld goodman.
[1 fallen.]
THE AULD GOOD-MAN. 12
a
She.
My heart, alake ! is liken to break,
Whan I think on my winsome John,
His bHnkan ee, and gait sae free,
Was naithing like thee, thou dosend^ drone; 20
Wi' his rosie face, and llaxen hair.
And skin as white as ony swan.
He was large and tall, and comely withall;
Thou'lt nevir be like mine auld goodman.
He.
Why dost thou plein ?" I thee maintein ; 25
For meal and mawt thou disna want :
But thy wild bees I canna please,
Now whan our gear gins to grow scant :
Of houshold stuff thou hast enough ;
Thou wants for neither pot nor pan ; 30
Of sicklike ware he left thee bare ;
Sae tell nae mair of thy auld goodman.
She.
Yes I may tell, and fret my sell,
To think on those blyth days I had.
Whan I and he, together ley 35
In armes into a well-made bed :
But now I sigh and may be sad,
Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan.
Thou falds thy feet and fa's asleep ;
Thou'lt nevir be like mine auld goodman. 40
Then coming was the night sae dark,
And gane was a' the light of day ?
The carle was fear'd to miss his mark.
And therefore wad nae longer stay :
[^ dozing or stupid. ' complain.]
124 FAIR MARGARET AND
Then up he gat, and ran his way, 4S
I trowe, the wife the day she wan ;
And aye the owreword^ of the fray
Was, EviV alake ! mine auld goodman.
IV.
FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET
WILLIAM.
HIS seems to be the old song quoted in Fletcher's
Kjtight of Ulie bur tiing pestle, acts 2d and 3d; altho' the
six lines there preserved are somewhat different from
those in the ballad, as it stands at present. The reader
will not wonder at this, when he is informed that this is only given
from a modern printed copy picked up on a stall. It's full title is
FUir Margaret's Misfortunes; or Sweet William's frightful dreams
on his zaedding night, with the sudden death and burial of those noble
lovers. —
The lines preserved in the play are this distich,
" You are no love for me, Margaret,
I am no love for you."
And the following stanza,
" When it was grown to dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep.
In came Margarets grimly ghost
And stood at Williams feet."
These Hnes have acquired an importance by giving birth to one
of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any language. See
the song intitled Margaret's Ghost, at the end of this volume.
Since the first edition some improvements have been inserted,
which were communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she
had heard this song repeated in her infancy.
[The ballads on the two lovers Margaret and William are
numerous, culminating as they do in Mallet's William atid Mar-
[^ last word or burden.]
SWEET WILLIAM. 125
garet. See Sii-u'et Williavi's Ghost (No. 6 in this book) and
Mallet's ballad (No. i6 of book iii). The present ballad is also
in the Douce Collection and in that of the late Mr. George Daniel.
Jamieson prints {Popular Ballads and Songs ^ iSo6, vol. i. p. 22)
a ballad entitled S^ccd Willie and Fair Annie, which may be
divided into tv.-o parts, the first resembling Lord Thomas and Fair
Elinor, and the second, Fair Annie's Ghost, is still more like the
following ballad.
Mr. Chappell remarks, " Another point deserving notice in the
old ballad is that one part of it has furnished the principal subject
of the modem burlesque ballad Lord Level, and another that of
T. Hood's song, Marfs Ghost.'"']
S it fell out on a long- summer's day
Two lovers they sat on a hill ;
They sat together that long summer's day,
And could not talk their fill.
I see no harm by you, Margaret, 5
And you see none by mee ;
Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock
A rich wedding you shall see.
Fair Margaret sat in her bower-window,
Combing her yellow hair; 10
There she spyed sweet William and his bride.
As they were a riding near.
Then down she layd her ivory combe.
And braided her hair in twain :
She went alive out of her bower, 15
But ne'er came alive in't again.
When day was gone, and night was come,
And all men fast asleep,
Then came the spirit of fair Marg'ret,
And stood at Williams feet. 10
126 FAIR MARGARET AND
Are you awake, sweet William ? shee said ;
Or, sweet William, are you asleep ?
God give you joy of your gay bride-bed,
And me of my winding-sheet.
When day was come, and night was gone, 25
And all men wak'd from sleep,
Sweet William to his lady sayd.
My dear, I have cause to weep.
I dreamt a dream, my dear ladye.
Such dreames are never good : 30
I dreamt my bower was full of red ' wine,'
And my bride-bed full of blood.
Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured Sir,
They never do prove good ;
To dream thy bov/er was full of red ' wine,' 35
And thy bride-bed full of blood.
He called up his merry men all.
By one, by two, and by three ;
Saying, I'll away to fair Marg'ret's bower,
By the leave of my ladie. 4°
And when he came to fair Marg'ret's bower,
He knocked at the ring ;
And who so ready as her seven brethren
To let sweet William in.
Then he turned up the covering-sheet, 45
Pray let me see the dead ;
Methinks she looks all pale and wan,
She hath lost her cherry red.
I'll do more for thee, Margaret,
Than any of thy kin ; 5°
For I will kiss thy pale wan lips,
ThouQfh a smile I cannot win.
Ver. 31, 35. Swine, PCC.
SWEET WILLIAM. 127
With that bespake the seven brethren,
Making most piteous mone :
You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, 55
And let our sister alone.
If I do kiss my jolly brown bride,
I do but what is right ;
I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse
By day, nor yet by night. 60
Deal on, deal on, my merry men all.
Deal on your cake and your wine * :
For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day,
Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine.
Fair Margaret dyed to-day, to-day, 65
Sweet William d)'ed the morrow :
Fair Margaret dyed for pure true love,
Sweet William dyed for sorrow.
Margacet was buryed in the lower chancel,
And William in the higher : 70
Out of her brest there sprang a rose,
And out of his a briar.
They grew till they grew unto the church-top.
And then they could grow no higher ;
And there they tyed in a true lovers knot, 75
Which made all the people admire.
Then came the clerk of the parish,
As you the truth shall hear,
And by misfortune cut them down,
Or they had now been there. 80
• Alluding to the dole anciently given at funerals.
128 BARBARA ALLEN'S
V.
BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY.
IVEN, with some corrections, from an old black letter
copy, intitled, Barbara Alleiis crtielty, or the young maris
tragedy.
[It is not clear why Percy separated this English version of
Barbara Allen from the Scottish version entitled Sir John Grehme
and Barbara Allan (No. 7).
Goldsmith in his third Essay says, " the music of the finest
singer is dissonance to what I felt when our dairy maid sung me
into tears with Johnny Armstrong's Last Good Night, or the
Cruelty of Barbara Allen.
It has been suggested that for " Scarlet towne " in the first verse
should be read Carlisle town, but as some printed copies have
Reading town we may suppose that a pun is intended.]
)^^^(^ N Scarlet towne, where I was borne,
^ There was a faire maid dwellin,
_ Made every youth crye, Wel-awaye !
"^^^^^^ Her name was Barbara Allen.
All in the merrye month of may, 5
When greene buds they were swellln,
Yong Jemmye Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his man unto her then,
To the town, where shee was dwellin ; 10
You must come to my master deare,
Giff your name be Barbara Allen.
For death is printed on his face,
And ore his hart is stealin :
Then haste away to comfort him, 15
O lovelye Barbara Allen.
CRUELTY. 129
Though death be printed on his face,
And ore his harte is steaHn,
Yet Htde better shall he bee,
For bonny Barbara Allen. io
So slowly, slowly, she came up.
And slowly she came nye him ;
And all she sayd, when there she came.
Young man, I think y'are dying.
He turnd his face unto her strait, 25
With deadlye sorrow sighing ;
0 lovely maid, come pity mee,
I me on my deth-bed lying.
If on your death-bed you doe lye.
What needs the tale you are tellin : 30
1 cannot keep you from your death ;
Farewell, sayd Barbara Allen.
He turnd his face unto the wall,
As deadlye pangs he fell in :
Adieu ! adieu ! adieu to you all, 3S
Adieu to Barbara Allen.
As she was walking ore the fields,
She heard the bell a knellin ;
And every stroke did seem to saye,
Unworthy Barbara Allen. 40
She turnd her bodye round about.
And spied the corps a coming :
Laye down, laye down the corps, she sayd,
That I may look upon him.
With scornful eye she looked downe, ' 45
Her cheeke with laughter swellin ;
Whilst all her friends cryd out amaine,
Unworthye Barbara Allen.
3 K
130 BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY.
When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Her harte was struck with sorrowe, 50
O mother, mother, make my bed.
For I shall dye to-morrowe.
Hard harted creature him to slight.
Who loved me so dearlye :
O that I had beene more kind to him, 55
When he was alive and neare me !
She, on her death-bed as she laye,
Beg'd to be buried by him ;
And sore repented of the daye,
That she did ere denye him. 60
Farewell, she sayd, ye virgins all.
And shun the fault I fell in :
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen.
*
VI.
SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST.
A Scottish Ballad.
iSIS^ROM Allan Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. The con-
t^^ eluding stanza of this piece seems modern.
[In the previous ballad (No. 4) and in Mallet's Wil-
liam a?id Margaret it is Margaret who appears to William, but
in the present one and in some other versions William is made
to die first. In Clerk Saunders {Minstrelsy of the Scottish Bor-
der) Scott has joined two distinct stories, and the second part, in
which the spirit of Clerk Saunders appears to May Margaret,
closely resembles the present ballad. Besides these there are
two other versions Kinloch's, entitled Sweet William and May
SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST. 131
Margaret, and Mothenvell's William and Marjoric. Dr. Rimbault
points out that the chief incidents in Eiirger's Leonora resemble
those in this ballad.
The last two stanzas are probably Ramsay's own.]
tS<CFvi^>^^
^HERE came a ghost to Margaret's door,
^ With many a grievous grone,
^y) And ay he tirled at the pin ;*
^^'' But answer made she none.
Is this my father PhiHp ? 5
Or is't my brother John ?
Or is't my true love WilHe,
From Scotland new come home ?
'Tis not thy father Philip ;
Nor yet thy brother John : 10
But tis thy true love Willie
From Scotland new come home,
O sweet Mar^ret ! O dear Marorret !
o o
I pray thee speak to mee :
Give me my faith and troth, Margret, 15
As I gave it to thee.
Thy faith and troth thou'se nevir get,
' Of me shalt nevir win,'
Till that thou come within m)- bower,
And kiss my cheek and chin. 20
If I should come within thy bower,
I am no earthly man :
And should I kiss thy rosy lipp,
Thy days will not be lang.
[• See note, antc^ p. 47.]
^^2 SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST.
J
O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, 25
■ I pray thee speak to mee :
Give me my faith and troth, Margret,
As I gave it to thee.
Thy faith and troth thou'se nevir get,
' Of me shalt nevir win,' 30
Till thou take me to yon kirk yard,
And wed me with a ring.
My bones are buried in a kirk yard
Afar beyond the sea,
And it is but my sprite, Margret, 35
That's speaking now to thee.
She stretched out her lilly-white hand,
As for to do her best :
Hae there your faith and troth, Willie,
God send your soul good rest. 40
Now she has kilted her robes of green,
A piece below her knee :
And a' the live-lang winter night
The dead corps followed shee.
Is there any room at your head, Willie ? 45
Or any room at your feet ?
Or any room at your side, Willie,
Wherein that I may creep ?
There's nae room at my head, Margret,
There's nae room at my feet, 50
There's no room at my side, Margret,
My coffin is made so meet.
Then up and crew the red red cock,
And up then crew the gray :
Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret, 55
That ' I ' were gane away.
SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST. 133
[No more the ghost to Margret said,
But, with a grievous grone,
Evanish'd in a cloud of mist,
And left her all alone. 60
O stay, my only true love, stay,
The constant Margret cried :
Wan grew her cheeks, she clos'd her een,
Stretch'd her saft limbs, and died.]
VII.
SIR JOHN GREHME AND BARBARA
ALLAN.
A Scottish Ballad.
RINTED, with a few conjectural emendations, from a
WTitten copy.
[Pepys, in Jan. 1 665-1 666, heard Mrs. Knipp, the
actress, sing " her Httle Scotch song of Barbery Allen " at Lord
Brouncker's, and he was "in perfect pleasure to hear her sing"
it. It was first printed in Ramsay's Tea-Table Afiscellany (ii.
171).
" I remember," says Mr. C. Kirkpatrick Sharpe, " that the
peasantry of Annandale sang many more verses of this ballad
than have appeared in print, but they were of no merit, containing
numerous magnificent offers from the lover to his mistress, and
amongst others some ships in sight, which may strengthen the
belief that this song was composed near the shores of the Solway."
— Addii. Illustrations to Sten house.]
^t^wS)^ T was in and about the Martinmas time,
" "^^ When the greene leaves wer a fallan ;
^A^ That Sir John Grehmc o' the west
'Ji^ countrye,
V(A\ in luve wi' Barbara Allan.
134 SIR JOHN GREHME
He sent his man down throw the towne, 5
To the plaice wher she was dwellan :
O haste and cum to my maister deare,
Gin ye bin Barbara Allan.
O hooly, hooly raise she up,
To the plaice wher he was lyan ; 10
And whan she drew the curtain by,
Young man, I think ye're dyan.*
O its I'm sick, and very very sick,
And its a' for Barbara Allan.
O the better for me ye'se never be, 15
Though your harts blude wer spillan.
Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir,
Whan ye the cups wer fillan ;
How ye made the healths gae round and round,
And sliofhted Barbara Allan ? 20
"t)'
He turn'd his face unto the wa'
And death was with him dealan ;
Adiew ! adiew ! my dear friends a',
Be kind to Barbara Allan.
Then hooly, hooly raise she up, 25
And hooly, hooly left him ;
And sighan said, she could not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.
She had not gane a mile but twa.
Whan she heard the deid-bell knellan ; 30
And everye jow the deid-bell geid,
Cried, Wae to Barbara Allan !
* An ingenious friend thinks the rhymes Dya?id and Lyand
ought- to be transposed; as the taunt Young maHy I think ye're
lyand, would be very characteristical.
AND BARBARA ALLAN. 135
O mither, mither, mak my bed,
O make it saft and narrow :
Since my love died for me to-day, 35
Ise die for him to morrowe.
VIII.
THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF
ISLINGTON.
I ROM an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys Collcdmi,
with some improvements communicated by a lady as
^^^ she had heard the same recited in her youth. The full
^ 6ii-| ^-jj-jg jg^ True love requited: Or, the Bailiff's daughter of
Islington in Norfolk is probably the place here meant.
[Copies of tliis charming old ballad are found in all the large
collections, and two tunes are associated with it.
Percy's suggestion that Islington in Norfolk is referred to is not
a probable one, and there seems to be no reason for depriving the
better known Islington of the south of the honour of having given
birth to the bailiffs daughter. Islington at the time when this
ballad was written was a country village quite unconnected witli
London, and a person who represented " a squier minstrel of
Middlesex' made a speech before Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth
in 1575, in which he declared "how the worshipful village of Isling-
ton [was] well knooen too bee one of the most auncient and best
tounz in England, next to London."
HERE was a youthe, and a wcll-beloved
youthe,
And he was a squires son :
I le loved the bayliffes dau<j^hter deare,
That lived in Islington.
136 THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER
Yet she was coye and would not believe 5
That he did love her soe,
Noe nor at any time would she
Any countenance to him showe.
But when his friendes did understand
His fond and foolish minde, 10
They sent him up to faire London
An apprentice for to binde.
And when he had been seven long yeares,
And never his love could see :
Many a teare have I shed for her sake, 15
When she little thought of mee.
Then all the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and playe,
All but the baylififes daughter deare ;
She secretly stole awaye. ao
She pulled off her gowne of greene,
And put on ragged attire,
And to faire London she would go
■ Her true love to enquire.
And as she went along the high road, 25
The weather being hot and drye,
She sat her downe upon a green bank,
And her true love came riding bye.
She started up, with a colour soe redd,
Catching hold of his bridle-reine ; 30
One penny, one penny, kind sir, she sayd,
Will ease me of much paine.
Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,
Praye tell me where you were borne.
At Islington, kind sir, sayd shee, 35
Where I have had many a scorne.
OF ISLINGTON. 137
I pr}'thee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee.
O tell me, whether )-ou knowe
The bayliffes daughter of Islington,
She is dead, sir, long agoe. 40
If she be dead, then take my horse,
My saddle and bridle also ;
For I will into some farr coiintrye,
Where noe man shall me knowe.
O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe, 4-s
She standeth by thy side ;
She is here alive, she is not dead.
And readye to be thy bride.
O farewell griefe, and welcome joye.
Ten thousand times therefore ; 50
For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
Whom I thouorht I should never see more.
IX.
THE WILLOW TREE.
A Pastoral Dialogue.
ROM the small black-letter collection, intitled, TJie
Golden Garland of princely delights ; collated with
two other copies, and corrected by conjecture.
[Dr. Rimbault gives the melody of this pretty little pastoral
on the favourite subject of wearing the willow from a MS. dated
1639 in the Advocate's Library, Edinburgh. It is also to be
found in the celebrated Skene MS. in the same library, and again
"in all the editions of Forbes's Cant us. '\
138 THE WILLOW TREE.
Willy.
OW now, shepherde, what meanes that ?
Why that willowe in thy hat ?
Why thy scarffes of red and yellowe
Turn'd to branches of greene willowe ?
Cuddy.
They are chang'd, and so am I ; 5
Sorrowes live, but pleasures die :
Phillis hath forsaken mee.
Which makes me weare the willowe-tree.
Willy.
Phillis ! shee that lov'd thee long ?
Is shee the lass hath done thee wrong ? 10
Shee that lov'd thee long and best,
Is her love turn'd to a jest ?
Cuddy.
Shee that long true love profest,
She hath robb'd my heart of rest :
For she a new love loves, not mee ; 15
Which makes me wear the willowe-tree.
Willy.
Come then, shepherde, let us joine.
Since thy happ is like to mine :
For the maid I thought most true,
Mee hath also bid adieu. 20
Cuddy.
Thy hard happ doth mine appease,
Companye doth sorrowe ease :
Yet, Phillis, still I pine for thee,
And still must weare the willowe-tree.
THE WILLOW TREE. 139
Willy.
Shepherde, be advis'd by mee, as
Cast off grief and willowe-tree :
For thy grief brings her content,
She is pleas'd if thou lament.
Cuddy.
Herdsman, I'll be rul'd by thee,
There lyes grief and willowe-tree : 30
Henceforth I will do as they,
And love a new love every day.
*
X.
THE LADY'S FALL
S given (\vith corrections) from the Editor's ancient folio
MS.* collated uith 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, /// Pescod time, &=c. — The ballad
here referred to is preserved in the Afuses Library, 8vo. p. 281.
It is an allegory or vision, intitled, The Shepherd's Slumber, and
opens with some pretty rural images, viz.
" In pescod time when hound to horn
Gives eare till buck be kil'd.
And little lads with pipes of come
Sate keeping beasts a-field."
" I went to gather strawberries
IJy woods and groves full fair, &c."
[Mr. Hales thinks it possible that this ballad was written by the
■same author as The Children in the Wood — " the same facility of
[• Ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 246.]
I40
THE LADY'S FALL.
language and of rhyme, the same power of pathos, the same
extreme simpHcity characterise both ballads."
Mr. Chappell says that Chevy Chace was sometimes sung to the
tune of In Pescod tivie, as were the Bride's burial (No. 12), and
Lady Isabella's Tragedy (No. 14). The various readings from the
original MS. are noted at the foot of the page.]
ARKE well my heavy dolefull tale,
You loyall lovers all,
And heedfully beare in your brest,
A gallant ladyes fall.
Long was she wooed, ere shee was wonne, s
To lead a wedded life,
But folly wrought her overthrowe
Before she was a wife.
Too soone, alas ! shee gave consent
And yeelded to his will, 10
Though he protested to be true,
And faithfull to her still.
Shee felt her body altered quite,
Her bright hue waxed pale,
Her lovelye cheeks chang'd color white, 15
Her strength began to fayle.
Soe that with many a sorrowful sigh,
This beauteous ladye milde,
With greeved hart, perceived herselfe
To have conceived with childe. 20
Shee kept it from her parents sight
As close as close might bee,
And soe put on her silken gowne
None might her swelling see.
[Ver. 15. her faire red cheekes changed color quite. V. 17. and
soe with. V. 20. to be conceived. V. 24. none shold. MS.]
THE LADY'S FALL. 141
Unto her lover secretly 25
Her orreefe shee did bewray,
And walkintT with him hand in hand,
These words to him did say ;
Behold, quoth shee, a maids distresse
By love brought to thy bowe ; 30
Behold I goe with childe by thee,
Tho none thereof doth knowe.
The litle babe springs in my wombe
To heare its fathers voyce,
Lett it not be a bastard called, 35
Sith I made thee my choyce :
[Come, come, my love, perform thy vowe
And wed me out of hand ;
O leave me not in this extreme
Of griefe, alas ! to stand.] 40
Think on thy former promises.
Thy oathes and vowes eche one ;
Remember with what bitter teares
To mee thou madest thy moane.
Convay me to some secrett place, 45
And marry me with speede ;
Or with thy rapyer end my life,
Ere further shame proceede.
Alacke ! my beauteous love, quoth hee.
My joye, and only dear ; 50
Which way can I convay thee hence.
When dauLrers are so near ?
[Ver, 29. a larlyes distress. V. 30. your bowc. V. 31. Sec how
I goe with chyld with thee. V. 33. my litle. V. 35, C) lett.
V- 37-40- n^J^ ii^ ^I^- V. 42. thy wordes. V. 48. lest further.
V. 49. my derest. V. 50. my greatest joy on earthe. V. 51.
shold I convay you. V. 52. to scape a sudden death.]
142 THE LADY'S FALL.
Thy friends are all of hye degree,
And I of meane estate ;
Full hard it is to gett thee forthe 55
Out of thy fathers gate.
Dread not thy life to save my fame,
For if thou taken bee,
My selfe will step betweene the swords,
And take the harme on mee : 60
Soe shall I scape dishonor quite ;
And if I should be slaine
What could they say, but that true love
Had wrought a ladyes bane.
But feare not any further harme ; 65
My selfe will soe devise.
That I will ryde away with thee
^ Unknowen of mortall eyes :
Disguised like some pretty page
He meete thee in the darke, 70
And all alone He come to thee
Hard by my fathers parke.
And there, quoth hee, He meete my deare
If God soe lend me life.
On this day month without all fayle 75
I will make thee my wife.
Then with a sweet and loving kisse.
They parted presentlye,
And att their partinge brinish teares
Stoode in eche others eye, 80
[Ver. 53. your friends. V. 55. gett you. V. 56. your ffathers.
V. 57. your lifFe . . . your fame. V. 58. you. V. 59. sword.
V. 60. to take ... of thee, V. 61. soe may you. V. 62. if soe
you. V. 64. ladyes paine. V. 67. I will safely ryd with thee.
V. 76. lie make the then. V. 77. and with.]
THE LADY'S FALL. 143
Att length the wished day was come,
On which this beauteous mayd,
With longing eyes, and strange attire.
For her true lover stayd.
When any person shee espyed 85
Come ryding ore the plaine,
She hop'd it was her owne true love :
But all her hopes were vaine.
Then did shee weepe and sore bewayle
Her most unhappy fate ; 90
Then did shee speake these woefull words,
As succourless she sate ;
O false, forsworne, and faithlesse man,
Disloyall in thy love.
Hast thou forgott thy promise past, 95
And wilt thou perjured prove ?
And hast thou now forsaken mee
In this my great distresse,
To end my dayes in open shame,
Which thou mi^rhtst well redresse ? 100
Woe worth the time I eer believ'd
That flatterinc: toncrue of thine :
Wold God that I had never seene
The teares of thy false eyne.
And thus with many a sorrowful sigh, 105
Homewards shee went againe;
Noe rest came in her waterye eyes,
Shee felt such privye paine.
[Ver. 81. wherin this lovely maid. V. 85. if any ])cr.son shee
had spyed. V. 86. came. V. 87. shee thought. V. 92. when
succourlcs. V. 93. and no\. in MS. V. 99. in heavinesse. V. 100.
which well thou might. V. loi. I did belccve. V. 105. soe that
with many a grievous groane. V. 106. amaine. V. 108. shee
found. J
144 THE LADY'S FALL.
In travail strong shee fell that night,
With many a bitter throwe ; no
What woefull paines shee then did feel,
Doth eche good woman knowe.
Shee called up her waiting mayd,
That lay at her bedds feete,
Who musing at her mistress woe, us
Began full fast to weepe.
Weepe not, said shee, but shutt the dores,
And windowes round about,
Let none bewray my wretched state,
But keepe all persons out. 120
O mistress, call your mother deare ;
Of women you have neede,
And of some skilfull midwifes helpe,
That better may you speed.
Call not my mother for thy life, 125
Nor fetch no woman here ;
The midwives helpe comes all too late,
My death I doe not feare.
With that the babe sprang from her wombe
No creature being nye, 130
And with one sighe, which brake her hart,
This gentle dame did dye.
The lovely litle infant younge,
[The mother being dead,]
Resigned its new received breath, 135
To him that had it made.
[Ver. no. thraw. V. in. shee felt that night. V. 113. mayd.
V. 114. who lay. V. 115. and musing at her great woe. V. 117.
shee sayth. V. 118. all about. V. 123. and to some. V. 124.
the better. V. 130. being by. V. 132. gallant dame. V. 133.
litle lovely. V. 134. the pretty smiling babe.]
THE LADY'S FALL. 145
Next morning came her own true love,
Affrighted at the newes,
And he for sorrow slew himselfe,
Whom eche one did accuse. 14.0
The mother with her new borne babe,
Were laide both in one grrave :
Their parents overworne with woe,
No joy thenceforth cold have.
Take heed, you dayntye damsells all, 145
Of flattering words beware.
And to the honour of your name
Have an especial care.
[Too true, alas ! this story is.
As many one can tell : 150
By others harmes learne to be wise,
And )0U shall do full well.]
XI.
WALY WALY. LOVE BE BONNY.
A Scottish Song.
HIS is a very ancient song, but we could only give it
from a modern copy. Some editions instead of the
four last lines in the second stanza have these, which
have too much merit to be wholly suppressed :
" Whan cockle shells turn siller bells.
And muscles grow on every tree.
When frost and snaw sail warm us aw'.
Than sail my love prove true to me."
See the Orpheus CaMonius, cv^.
[Ver. 138. with this newes. V. 144. no joy that they. V. 14S.
have you a specyall care. V. 149-152. not in MS. J
146 WALY WALY,
Arthur's-seat mentioned in ver. 17, is a hill near Edinborough;
near the bottom of which is St. Anthony's well.
[There has been considerable difference of opinion among ballad
collectors relative to this beautiful song. Some suppose it to be
a portion of the ballad entitled Lord Jamie Douglas, which relates
to James Douglas, second Marquis of Douglas, who married Lady
Barbara Erskine, eldest daughter of John, ninth Earl of Mar, on
the seventh of September, 1670, and afterwards repudiated her
on account of a false accusation of adultery made against her by
Lowrie, laird of Blackwood. Prof. Aytoun, however, believes that
certain verses of Waly Waly have wrongly been mixed up with
Lord Jamie Douglas. There is very little doubt that the song was
in existence long before 1670, and it also appears to be the
lamentation of a forsaken girl rather than of a wife. Mr. Sten-
house and others considered it to belong to the age of Queen
Mary and to refer to some affair at Court. Aytoun writes, " there is
also evidence that it was composed before 1566, for there is extant
a MS. of that year in which some of the lines are transcribed," but
Mr. Maidment gives the following opinion — " that the ballad is
of ancient date is undoubted, but we are not quite prepared to
admit that it goes back as far as 1566, the date of the manuscript
transcribed by Thomas Wode from an ancient church music book
compiled by Dean John Angus, Andrew Blackball, and others, in
which it said the first [second] stanza is thus parodied : —
Hey trolHe loHie, love is jollie,
A quhile, quhil itt is new
Quhen it is old, it grows full cold,
Wae worth the love untrue.
Never having had access to the MS., we may be permitted to
remark that the phraseology of the burlesque is not exactly that
of the reign of Queen Mary" {Scottish Ballads ami Songs, 1868,
vol. ii. p. 49.)
Allan Ramsay was the first to publish the song, and he marked
it as ancient.
" When cockle shells turn silver bells,
When wine drieps red frae ilka tree,
When frost and snaw will warm us a'
Then I'll cum down and dine wi' thee,"
is the fourth stanza of Jamie Douglas, printed by John Finlay, in
his Scottish LListorical and Romatitic Ballads (vol. ii.)]
LOVE BE BONNY. 147
WALY' waly up the bank,
And waly waly down the brae,
And wal)- waly yon burn side,
Wliere I and my love wer wont to gae.
1 leant my back unto an aik, 5
I thought it was a trusty tree ;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lichtly me.
O wal)-, waly, gin love be bonny,
A little time while it is new ; 10
But when its auld, it waxeth cauld.
And fades awa' like morning dew,
O wherfore shuld I busk my head ?
Or wherfore shuld I kame my hair ?
For my true love has me forsook, 15
And says he'll never loe me mair.
Now Arthur-seat sail be my bed,
The sheets shall neir be fyl'd- by me :
Saint Anton's well sail be my drink.
Since my true love has forsaken me. io
Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw.
And shake the green leaves aff the tree ?
O gentle death, whan wilt thou cum ?
For of my life I am wearic.
Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, 25
Nor blawing snaws inclemencie ;
'Tis not sic cauld, that makes me cry.
But my loves heart grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgowe town,
We were a comely sight to see, 30
My love was cled in black velvet,
And I my-sell in cramasie.'^
[' interjection of lamentation. "•' defiled. '' crimson]
148 THE BRIDE'S BURIAL.
But had I wist, before I kisst,
That love had been sae ill to win ;
I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd, 35
And pinnd it with a siller pin.
And, oh ! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurses knee,
And I my sell were dead and gane!
For a maid again Ise never be. 40
XII.
THE BRIDE'S BURIAL.
^^^_ ROM two ancient copies in black-letter : one in the
Q^ Pepys Collection; the other in the British Museum.
To the tune of The Lady's Fall.
OME mourne, come mourne with mee.
You loyall lovers all ;
Lament my loss in weeds of woe,
Whom griping grief doth thrall.
Like to the drooping vine, 5
Cut by the gardener's knife.
Even so my heart, with sorrow slaine.
Doth bleed for my sweet wife.
By death, that grislye ghost,
My turtle dove is slaine, i©
And I am left, unhappy man,
To spend m.y dayes in paine.
Her beauty late so bright.
Like roses in their prime,
Is wasted like the mountain snowe, 15
Before warme Phebus' shine.
THE BRIDE'S BURIAL. 149
Her faire red colour'd cheeks
Now pale and wan ; her eyes,
That late did shine like crystal stars ;
Alas, their light it dies : ao
Her prettye lilly hands,
With hnq-ers long- and small.
In colour like the earthly claye,
Yea, cold and stiff withall.
When as the morning star 25
Her golden gates had spred,
And that the glittering sun arose
Forth from fair Thetis' bed ;
Then did my love awake,
Most like a lilly-flower, 30
And as the lovely queene of heaven,
So shone shee in her bower.
Attired was shee then,
Like Flora in her pride,
Like one of bright Diana's nymphs, 35
So look'd my loving bride.
And as fair Helen's face.
Did Grecian dames besmirche,
So did my dear exceed in sight,
All virgins in the church. 40
When we had knitt the knott
Of holy wedlock-band.
Like alabaster joyn'd to jett,
So stood we hand in hand ;
Then lo ! a chilling cold 4S
Strucke every vital part,
And griping grief, like pangs of death,
Sciz'd on my true love's heart.
150 THE BRIDE'S BURIAL.
Down in a swoon she fell,
As cold as any stone ; 5°
Like Venus picture lacking life,
So was my love brought home.
At length her rosye red.
Throughout her comely face,
As Phoebus beames with watry cloudes 55
Was cover'd for a space.
When with a grievous groane,
And voice both hoarse and drye.
Farewell, quoth she, my loving friend,
For I this daye must dye ; 60
The messenger of God,
With golden trumpe I see.
With manye other angels more,
Which sound and call for mee.
Instead of musicke sweet, 65
Go toll my passing-bell ;
And with sweet flowers strow my grave,
That in my chamber smell.
Strip off my bride's arraye.
My cork shoes from my feet ; 70
And, gentle mother, be not coye
To bring my winding-sheet.
My wedding dinner drest,
Bestowe upon the poor.
And on the hungry, needy, maimde, 75
Now craving at the door.
Instead of virgins yong.
My bride-bed for to see,
Go cause some cunning carpenter.
To make a chest for mee. 8°
TFIE BRIDE'S BURIAL. 151
]\Iy bride laces of silk
Bestowd, for maidens meet,
May fitly serve, when I am dead,
To tye my hands and feet.
And thou, my lover true, 85
My husband and my friend,
Let me intreat thee here to staye,
Until my life doth end.
Now leave to talk of love,
And humblye on your knee, 90
Direct your prayers unto God :
But mourn no more for mee.
In love as we have livde,
In love let us depart ;
And I, in token of my love, 9S
Do kiss thee with my heart.
0 staunch those bootless teares,
Thy weeping tis in vaine ;
1 am not lost, for wee in heaven
Shall one daye meet againe. 100
With that shee turn'd aside,
As one dispos'd to sleep.
And like a lamb departed life ;
Whose friends did sorely weep.
Her true love seeing this, 105
Did fetch a grievous groane,
As tho' his heart would burst in twainc.
And thus he made his moane.
O darke and dismal daye,
A daye of grief and care, no
That hath bereft the sun so bright.
Whose beams refresht the air.
152 THE BRIDE'S BURIAL.
Now woe unto the world,
And all that therein dwell,
O that I were with thee in heaven, 115
For here I live in hell.
And now this lover lives
A discontented life,
Whose bride was brought unto the grave
A maiden and a wife.
120
125
A garland fresh and faire
Of lillies there was made,
In sign of her virginitye.
And on her coffin laid.*
Six maidens, all in white.
Did beare her to the ground :
The bells did ring in solemn sort,
And made a dolefull sound.
In earth they laid her then,
For hungry wormes a preye ; 130
So shall the fairest face alive
At length be brought to claye.
[* " It was an ancient and pleasing custom to place a garland
made of white flowers and white riband upon the cofiin of a
maiden ; it was afterwards hung up over her customary seat in
church. Sometimes a pair of white gloves, or paper cut to the
shape of gloves, was hung beneath the garland. Chaplets of the
kind still hang in some of the Derbyshire churches, and at Hather-
sage in that county the custom is still retained." — {Transactions of
the Essex ArchcBological Society, vol. i. 1858, p. 118.) See Cory don's
Doleful Knell, vol. ii. book ii. No. 27, p. 275. Ophelia is "allowed
her virgin crants" (or garland) — Hamlet, act v. sc. i. See also an
interesting article on Funeral Garlands by Llewellyn Jewitt in the
Reliquary, vol. i. (i860), p. 5.]
DULCINA. 153
XIII.
DULCINA.
^^^^<^ ■, IVEN from two ancient copies, one in black-print, in
tlie Pepys Collection : the other in the Editor's folio
• -/l"^ "^'^^" li^ch of these contained a stanza not found in
''3-^^5'^~i^M. the other. What seemed the best readings were
selected from both.
This song is quoted as very popular in Walton's Coniplcat Angler,
chap. ii. It is more ancient than the ballad oi Robin Good-Felloiu
printed below, which yet is supposed to have been written by Ben.
Jonson.
[The Milk-woman in Walton's Angler says, " What song was it,
I pray you ? Was it Come sJiephcrds deck your heads, or As at
fwon Diikina rested 1 "
In the Registers of the Stationers' Company, under date of
May 22, 16 1 5, there is an entry transferring the right of publication
from one printer to another of A Ballett of Dulcina to the tune of
Forgoe vie no^ce, cotne to me sone. Mr. Chappell also tells us that
Dulcina was pne of the tunes to the " Psalms and Songs of Sion,
turned into the language and set to the tunes of a strange land,"
1642.
The editors of the Folio MS., more scrupulous than the bishop,
have not printed this song in its proper place, but have turned it
into the Supplement oi Loose and Humourous Songs (p. 32). The
third stanza of the MS. beginning
" Words whose hopes might have enjoyned "
is not printed in the present copy. The third stanza here is the
fourth of the MS., and the fourth stanza is not in the MS. at all.
Cayley and Ellis attribute this song to Raleigh, but without
sufficient authority.]
'I'^S at noonc Dulcina rested
In her sweete and shady bower;
Came a shepherd, and requested
In her la[){> to sleepe an hour.
But from her looke
A woundc he tookc
154 DULCINA.
Soe deepe, that for a further boone
The nymph he prayes.
Wherto shee sayes,
Forgoe me now, come to me soone. lo
But in vayne shee did conjure him
To depart her presence soe ;
Having a thousand tongues to allure him,
And but one to bid him goe :
Where lipps invite, 15
And eyes delight.
And cheekes, as fresh as rose in June,
Persuade delay ;
What boots, she say,
Forgoe me now, come to me soone ? zo
He demands what time for pleasure
Can there be more fit than now :
She sayes, night gives love that leysure,
Which the day can not allow.
He sayes, the sight 25
' Improves delight.
' Which she denies : Nights mirkie noone
In Venus' playes
Makes bold, shee sayes ;
Forgoe me now, come to mee soone. 30
But what promise or profession
From his hands could purchase scope ?
Who would sell the sweet possession
Of suche beautye for a hope ?
Or for the sight 35
Of linorerino- nierht
Foregoe the present joyes of noone ?
Thouofh ne'er soe faire
Her speeches were,
Forgoe me now, come to me soone. 40
DULCINA. 155
How, at last, agreed these lovers ?
Shee was fayre, and he was young :
The tongue may tell what th'eye discovers ;
Joyes unseene are never sung.
Did shee consent, 45
Or he relent ;
Accepts he night, or grants shee noone ;
Left he her a mayd,
Or not ; she sayd
Forgoe me now, come to me soone. 50
XIV.
THE LADY ISABELLA'S TRAGEDY.
HIS ballad is given from an old black-letter copy in the
Pcpys Collection, collated with another in the British
Museum, H. 263, folio. It is there iniitled, '■'■The Lady
Isabella's Tragedy, or the Step-Mother' s Cruelty : being
a relation of a lamentable and cruel murther, committed on the
body of the lady Isabella, the only daughter of a noble duke, &c.
To the tune of, The Lady's Fall" To some copies are annexed
eight more modern stanzas, intitled, The Dutchess's and Cook's
iMfnentation.
HERE was a lord of worthy fame,
And a huntinij he would ride.
Attended by a noble traine
Of gentrye by his side.
And while he did in chase remaine,
To see both sport and playe ;
His ladye went, as she did feigne,
Unto the church to [;rayc.
156 THE LADY ISABELLA'S
This lord he had a daughter deare,
Whose beauty shone so bright, lo
She was belov'd, both far and neare,
Of many a lord and knight.
Fair Isabella was she call'd,
A creature faire was shee ;
She was her father's only joye ; is
As you shall after see.
Therefore her cruel step-mother
Did envye her so much ;
That daye by daye she sought her life,
Her malice it was such. 20
She bargain'd with the master-cook,
To take her life awaye :
And taking of her daughters book,
She thus to her did saye.
Go home, sweet daughter, I thee praye, 25
Go hasten presentlie ;
And tell unto the master-cook
These wordes that I tell thee.
And bid him dresse to dinner streieht
That faire and milk-white doe, 30
That in the parke doth shine so bright,
There's none so faire to showe.
This ladye fearing of no harme,
Obey'd her mothers will ;
And presentlye she hasted home, 35
Her pleasure to fulfill.
She streight into the kitchen went,
Her message for to tell ;
And there she spied the master-cook,
Who did with malice swell. 40
TRAGEDY. 157
Nowe, master-cook, it must be soe,
Do that which I thee tell :
You needes must dresse the milk-white doe,
Which you do knowe full well.
Then streii^ht his cruell bloodye hands, 45
He on the ladye layd ;
Who quivering and shaking stands,
Wliile thus to her he sayd :
Thou art the doe, that I must dresse ;
See here, behold my knife ; so
For it is pointed presently
To rid thee of thy life.
O then, cried out the scullion-boye.
As loud as loud might bee ;
0 save her life, good master-cook, 55
And make your pyes of mee !
For pityes sake do not destroye
My ladye with your knife ;
You know shee is her father's joye,
For Christes sake save her life. 60
1 will not save her life, he sayd,
Nor make my pyes of thee ;
Yet if thou dost this deed bewraye,
Thy butcher I will bee.
Now when this lord he did come home 65
For to sit downe and eat ;
He called for his daughter deare,
To come and carve his meat.
Now sit you downe, his ladye sayd,
T) sit you downe to meat : 70
Into some nunnery she is gone ;
Your daughter deare forget.
158 LADY ISABELLA'S TRAGEDY,
Then solemnlye he made a vowe,
Before the compame :
That he would neither eat nor drinke, 75
Until he did her see.
O then bespake the scullion-boye,
With a loud voice so hye :
If now you will your daughter see,
My lord, cut up that pye : 80
Wherein her fleshe is minced small.
And parched with the fire ;
All caused by her step-mother.
Who did her death desire.
And cursed bee the master-cook, 85
O cursed may he bee !
I proffered him my own hearts blood,
From death to set her free.
Then all in blacke this lord did mourne ;
And for his daughters sake, 9°
He judged her cruell step-mother
To be burnt at a stake.
Likewise he judg'd the master-cook
In boiling lead to stand ;
And made the simple scullion-boye 95
The heire of all his land.
HUE AND CRY AFTER CUPID. 159
XV.
A HUE AND CRY AFTER CUPID.
HIS song is a kind of translation of a pretty poem of
Tasso's, called Aniore fui^githv, generally printed with
his Ami/ltd, and originally imitated from the first Idyl-
lium of Moschus.
It is extracted from Ben Jonson's Masque at the marriage of
lord viscount Hadington, on Shrove-Tuesday, 1608. One stanza
full of dry mythology is here omitted, as it had been dropped in
a copy of this song printed in a small volume called Le Prince
d'Atnour. Lond. 1660, 8vo.
[The stanza of the first Grace which Percy left out is as fol-
lows ; —
" At his sight the sun hath turn'd,
Neptune in the w-aters burn'd ;
Hell hath felt a greater heat ;
Jove himself forsook his seat:
. From the centre to the sky
Are his trophies reared high."]
[i Grace7\
lEAUTIES have yee seen a toy,
Called Love, a little boy,
Almost naked, wanton, blinde ;
Cruel now ; and then as kinde ?
If he be amongst yee, say ;
He is Venus' run away.
[2 Grace^ Shee, that will but now discover
Where the winged wag doth hover,
Shall to-night receive a kisse,
How and where herselfe would wish :
But who brings him to his mother
Shall have that kisse, and another.
10
i6o A HUE AND CRY
[3 Grace.~\ Markes he hath about him plentie ;
You may know him among twentie :
All his body is a fire, 15
And his breath a flame entire :
Which, being shot, like lightning, in,
Wounds the heart, but not the skin.
*****
[2 Grace?\ Wings he hath, which though yee clip.
He will leape from lip to lip, 20
Over liver, lights, and heart ;
Yet not stay in any part.
And, if chance his arrow misses.
He will shoot himselfe in kisses.
[3 Grace.^ He doth beare a golden bow, as
And a quiver hanging low.
Full of arrowes, which outbrave
Dian's shafts ; where, if he have
Any head more sharpe than other.
With that first he strikes his mother. 30
[i GraceJ] Still the fairest are his fuell,
When his dales are to be cruell ;
Lovers hearts are all his food,
And his baths their warmest bloud :
Nought but wounds his hand doth season, 35
And he hates none like to Reason.
[2 Grace.'] Trust him not : his words, though sweet,
Seldome with his heart doe meet :
All his practice is deceit ;
Everie gift is but a bait ; ■ 40
Not a kisse but poyson beares ;
And most treason's in his teares.
[3 Grace.] Idle minutes are his raigne ;
Then the straggler makes his gaine,
AFTER CUPID. i6i
By presenting maids with toyes 4S
And would have yee thinke hem joyes ;
'Tis the ambition of the elfe
To have all childish as himselfe.
[i G)'ace7\ If by these yee please to know him,
Beauties, be not nice, but show him. 50
[2 Grace7\ Though ye had a will to hide him,
Now, we hope, yee'le not abide him
[3 Grace?\^ Since yee heare this falser's play,
And that he is Venus' run-away.
XVI.
THE KING OF FRANCE'S DAUGHTER.
'HE stgry of this ballad seems to be taken from an inci-
dent in the domestic history of Charles the Bald, king
of France. His daughter Judith was betrothed to
Ethelwulph king of England : but before the marriage
was consummated, Ethelwulph died, and she returned to France :
whence she was carried off by Baldwyn, Forester of Flanders ;
who, after many crosses and difficulties, at length obtained the
kings consent to their marriage, and was made Earl of Flanders.
This happened about a.d. 863. — See Rapin, Henault, and the
French historians.
The folloNnng copy is given from the F.ditor's ancient folio MS.
collated with another in black-letter in the Pepys Collection, in-
titled. An excellent Ballad 0/ a prince of England's courtship to the
king 0/ France's dang/ita', qj^c. To the tune of Crimson Vchet.
Many breaches having been made in this old song by the hand
of time, principally (as might be expected) in the quick returns
of the rhime ; an attempt it; here made to repair them.
[This ballad was written by Thomas Dcloney, who included it
in his Garland of Goodwill (Percy Society, vol. xxx. p. 52). It is,
as Percy points out, founded on history, but Dcloney paid little
attention to facts. All the first part of the jjoem, which tells of the
miserable end of the English prince of suitable age to the young
3
M
i62 THE KING OF
French princess, is fiction. Judith was Ethelwulf's wife for about
two years, and on the death of her husband she married his son
Ethelbert. The only historical fact that is followed in the ballad
is the marriage of Judith with Baldwin, Great Forester of France,
from which union descended Matilda, the wife of William the Con-
queror.
The copy in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Fumivall, vol. iii.
p. 441) is entitled " In the Dayes of Olde." Percy altered it con-
siderably, sometimes following the printed copy and sometimes the
MS.
Mr. Hales suggests that the name of the tune is derived from
the dress of the princess, described in vv. 185-6, —
" Their mothers riche array
Was of crimson velvet,"
and Mr. Chappell agrees with him.]
N the dayes of old,
When faire France did flourish,
Storyes plaine have told,
Lovers felt annoye.
The queene a daughter bare, 5
Whom beautye's queene did nourish :
She was lovelye faire
She was her father's joye.
A prince of England came,
Whose deeds did merit fame, 10
But he was exil'd, and outcast :
Love his soul did fire,
Shee granted his desire.
Their hearts in one were linked fast.
Which when her father proved, 15
Sorelye he was moved,
And tormented in his minde.
He sought for to prevent them ;
And, to discontent them.
Fortune cross'd these lovers kinde. *o
FRANCE'S DAUGHTER. i6
o
When these princes twaine
Were thus barr'd of pleasure,
Throucrh the kineses disdaine,
Which their joyes withstoode :
The lady soone prepar'd 25
Her Jewells and her treasure ;
Having no regard
For state and royall bloode ;
In homelye poore array
She went from court away, 30
To meet her joye and hearts delight ;
Who in a forest great
Had taken up his seat,
To w^ayt her coming in the night.
But, lo ! what sudden danger 35
To this princely stranger
Chanced, as he sate alone !
By outlawes he was robbed,
And with ponyards stabbed,
Uttering many a dying grone. 40
The princcsse, arm'd by love.
And by chaste desire,
All the night did rove
Without dread at all :
Still unknowne she past 4S
In her strange attire ;
Cominor at the last
Within echoes call, —
You faire woods, quoth shec,
Honoured may you bee, 50
Harbouring my heart's delight ;
Which encompass here
My joye and only deare,
My trustye friend, and comelye knighl.
Swecte, I come unto thee, 55
Swcetc, I come to woo thee ;
1 64 THE KING OF
That thou mayst not angry bee
For my long delaying ;
For thy curteous staying
Soone amendes He make to thee. 60
Passing thus alone
Through the silent forest,
Many a grievous grone
Sounded in her eares :
She heard one complayne 65
And lament the sorest,
Seeming all in payne.
Shedding deadly teares.
Farewell, my deare, quoth hee.
Whom I must never see ; 70
For why my life is att an end,
Through villaines crueltye :
For thy sweet sake I dye,
To show I am a faithfull friend.
Here I lye a bleeding, 75
While my thoughts are feeding
On the rarest beautye found.
O hard happ, that may be !
Little knows my ladye
My heartes blood lyes on the ground. 80
With that a grone he sends
Which did burst in sunder
All the tender bands
Of his gentle heart.
She, who knewe his voice, 85
At his wordes did wonder ;
All her former joyes
Did to griefe convert.
Strait she ran to see.
Who this man shold bee, 90
That soe like her love did seeme :
FRANCE'S DAUGHTER. 165
Her lovely lord she found
Lye slaine upon the ground,
Smear'd with gore a ghastlye streame.
Which his lady spying, 9S
Shrieking, fainting, crying.
Her sorrows could not uttered bee :
Fate, she cryed, too cruell :
For thee — my dearest Jewell,
Would God ! that I had dyed for thee. 100
His pale lippes, alas!
Twentye times she kissed,
And his face did wash
With her trickling teares :
Every gaping wound 105
Tenderlye she pressed,
And did wipe it round
W^ith her golden haires.
Speake, faire love, quoth shee,
Speake, fair prince, to mee, no
One sweete word of comfort give :
Lift up thy deare eyes,
Listen to my cryes,
Thinke in what sad griefe I live.
All in vain she sued, 115
All in vain she wooed,
The prince's life was fled and gone.
There stood she still mourning,
Till the suns retourning,
And bright day was coming on. no
In this great distresse
Weeping, wayling ever,
Oft shee cryed, alas!
What will become of mee ?
To my fathers court i^s
I rcturnc will never :
i66 THE KING OF
But in lowlye sort
I will a servant bee.
While thus she made her mone,
Weeping all alone, 130
In this deepe and deadlye feare :
A for ster all in greene,
Most comelye to be seene,
Ranginof the woods did find her there.
Moved with her sorrowe, 135
Maid, quoth hee, good morrowe,
What hard happ has brought thee here ?
Harder happ did never
Two kinde hearts dissever :
Here lyes slaine my brother deare. 140
Where may I remaine.
Gentle for'ster, shew me,
'Till I can obtaine
A service in my neede ?
Paines I will not spare : i4S
This kinde favour doe me,
It will ease my care ;
Heaven shall be thy meede.
The for'ster all amazed,
On her beautye gazed, 150
Till his heart was set on fire.
If, faire maid, quoth hee.
You will goe with mee,
You shall have your hearts desire.
He brought her to his mother, 155
And above all other
He sett forth this maidens praise.
Long was his heart inflamed,
At length her love he gained.
And fortune crown'd his future dayes. 160
Thus unknowne he wedde
With a kings faire daughter ;
FRAiYCE'S DAUGHTER, 167
Children seven they had,
Ere she told her birth.
Which when once he knew, 165
Humblye he besought her,
He to the world might shew
Her rank and princelye worth.
He cloath'd his children then,
(Not like other men) 170
In partye-colours strange to see ;
The right side cloth of gold,
The left side to behold.
Of woollen cloth still framed hee*.
Men thereat did wonder ; 175
Golden fame did thunder
This strange deede in every place :
The king of France came thither,
It being pleasant weather,
In those woods the hart to chase. iSo
The children then they bring,
So their mother will'd it,
Where the royall king
Must of force come bye :
Their mothers riche array, 185
Was of crimson velvet :
Their fathers all of gray,
Seemelye to the eye.
* This will remind the reader of the Hvery and device of Charles
Brandon, a private gentleman, who married the Queen Dowager
of France, sister of Henry VIII, At a tournament which he held
at his wedding, the trappings of his horse were half Cloth of gold,
and half Frieze, with the following Motto : —
" Cloth of Gold, do not despise,
Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Frize;
Cloth of Frize, be not too bold,
'Iho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Gold."
See Sir W. Temijle's Misc. vol. iii. p. 356.
i68 K. OF FRANCE'S DAUGHTER.
Then this famous king,
Noting every thing, 190
Askt how he durst be so bold
To let his wife soe weare,
And decke his children there
In costly robes of pearl and gold.
The forrester replying, 195
And the cause descrying*
To the king these words did say,
Well may they, by their mother,
Weare rich clothes with other,
Being by birth a princesse gay. aoo
The king aroused thus.
More heedfullye beheld them.
Till a crimson blush
His remembrance crost.
The more I fix my mind 205
On thy wife and children,
The more methinks I find
The dauofhter which I lost.
Falling on her knee,
I am that child, quoth shee ; no
Pardon mee, my soveraine liege.
The king perceiving this.
His daughter deare did kiss.
While joyfull teares did stopp his speeche.
With his traine he tourned, 215
And with them sojourned.
Strait he dubb'd her husband knight;
Then made him erle of Flanders,
And chiefe of his commanders :
Thus were their sorrowes put to flight. 220
***
* i.e. describing.
ch'-
THE SWEET NEGLECT. 169
XVII.
THE SWEET NEGLECT.
2^ HIS little madrigal (extracted from Ben. Jonson's Silent
^ ■ Woman, act i. sc. i, first acted in 1609) is in imitation
{** ^\ -^^ of ^ Latin Poem printed at the end of the Variorum
^*^*r*^i Edit, of Petronius, beginning, Semper viunditias, semper
Sasilissa, decoras, &c. See Whalley's Ben Jonsoii, vol. ii. p. 420.
^TILL to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast :
Still to be pou'dred, still perfum'd :
Lady, it is to be presum'd,
Though art's hid causes are not found, s
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
Give me a looke, give me a face,
That makes simplicitie a grace ;
Robes loosely flowing, haire as free :
Such sweet neglect more taketh me, 10
Than all th' adulteries of art.
That strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
XVIII.
THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.
*HK suljject of this very popular ballad (which has
been set in so favourable a light by the Speetator, No.
85.) seems to be taken from an old play, intitled.
Two lamentable Trat^edies ; The one of the murder
of Maister Beech, a chandler in Thames streete, Cp^c. The other
of a young child murthcred in a wood by ttuo rufjins, with the
I70 THE CHILDREN
consent of his iinkle. By Rob. Yarrington, 1601, 4to. Our ballad-
maker has strictly followed the play in the description of the
father and mother's dying charge : in the uncle's promise to take
care of their issue: his hiring two ruffians to destroy his ward,
under pretence of sending him to school : their chusing a wood
to perpetrate the murder in : one of the ruffians relenting, and
a battle ensuing, &c. In other respects he has departed from the
play. In the latter the scene is laid in Padua : there is but one
child : which is murdered by a sudden stab of the unrelenting
ruffian : he is slain himself by his less bloody companion ; but ere
he dies gives the other a mortal wound : the latter living just long
enough to impeach the uncle ; who, in consequence of this im-
peachment, is arraigned and executed by the hand of justice, &c.
Whoever compares the play with the ballad, will have no doubt
but the former is the original : the language is far more obsolete,
and such a vein of simplicity runs through the whole performance,
that, had the ballad been written first, there is no doubt but every
circumstance of it would have been received into the drama:
whereas this was probably built on some Italian novel.
Printed from two ancient copies, one of them in black-letter in
the Pepys Collection. Its title at large is, The Children in the
Wood; or, The Norfolk Gentleman^ s Last Will and Testaniefit : To
the tune of Rogero, ^'C.
[Ritson thought he had refuted Percy's statement that the play
was older than the ballad by pointing out that the latter was
entered in the Stationers' books in 1595, but I find in Baker's
Biographia Dramatica an assertion that Yarrington's play was not
printed " till many years after it was written." The following is
the form of the entry at Stationers' Hall, "15 Oct. 1595. Thomas
Millington entred for his copie under th[e hjandes of bothe the
Wardens a ballad intituled The Norfolk Gent, his Will and Testa-
ment and hotve he comviyttcd the kecpinge of his children to his owne
brother whoe delte most wickedly with them and howe God plagued
him for it." Sharon Turner and Miss Halsted favoured the rather
untenable opinion that the wicked uncle was intended to represent
Richard III,, and therefore that the date of the ballad was much
earlier than that usually claimed for it. Turner writes in his His-
tory of England, " I have sometimes fancied that the popular
ballad may have been written at this time on Richard and his
nephews before it was quite safe to stigmatize him more openly."
Wailing, or Wayland Wood, a large cover near Walton in Nor-
folk is the place which tradition assigns to the tragedy, but the
people of Wood Bailing also claim the honour for their village.
Addison speaks of the ballad as " one of the darling songs of
the common people, [which] has been the delight of most English-
IN THE WOOD. I -J I
men in some part of their age," and points out that the circum-
stance
.... robin-red-breast piously
Did cover them with leaves,
has a parallel in Horace, who tells us that when he was a child,
fallen asleep in a desert wood, the turtle doves took pity on him
and covered him with leaves.
The popular belief that the robin covers dead bodies with leaves
(probably founded on the habits of the bird) is of considerable
antiquity. The passage in Cymbeline (act iv. sc. 2) naturally
occurs as the chief illustration : —
. . . . " the ruddock would.
With charitable bill
bring thee all this,
Yea and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none.
To winter-ground thy corse."
In Webster's White Deinl, act v., we read : —
" Call for the robin red breast and the wren
Since o'er shady groves they hover
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men."
The critics suppose Webster to have imitated Shakespere here,
but there is no ground for any such supposition. The industry of
Reed, Steevens, and Douce has supplied us with several passages
from old literature in which this characteristic of the robin is re-
ferred to.
In " Cortiucopicc, or, divers Secrets ; wherein is contained the rare,
secrets of man, beasts, fowles, fishes, trees, plants, stones, and
such like, most pleasant and profitable, and not before committed
to bee printed in English. Ncwlie drawen out of divers Latine
Authors into English by Thomas Johnson," 4to. London, 1596,
occurs the following passage : — " The robin red-breast if he find a
man or woman dead will cover all his face with mosse, and some
thinke that if the body should remaine unburied that hee woulde
cover the whole body also."
This little secret of Johnson is copied by Thomas Lupton into
his A Thousaml Notable lyii/ii^s of suiutric sorts nciuly corrected^
1 60 1, where it appears as No. 37 of book i,
Michael Drayton has the following lines in his poem. The Oivl :
" Cov'ring with moss the dead's unclosed eye
The little red-breast teacheth charitie."
172 THE CHILDREN
In Dekker's Villanies discovered by lantJiorn and candlelight, 1616,
we read, "They that cheere up a prisoner but with their sight are
Robin red-breasts, that bring strawes in their bils to cover a dead
man in extremitie." This is sufficient evidence that the beHef was
wide-spread.]
[OW ponder well, you parents deare,
These wordes, which I shall write ;
A doleful story you shall heare,
In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account , 5
In Norfolke dwelt of late,
Who did in honour far surmount
Most men of his estate.
Sore sicke he was, and like to dye,
No helpe his life could save ; 10
His wife by him as sicke did lye,
And both possest one grave.
No love between these two was lost.
Each was to other kinde.
In love they liv'd, in love they dyed, 15
And left two babes behinde :
The one a fine and pretty boy.
Not passing three yeares olde ;
The other a girl more young than he,
And fram'd in beautyes molde. 20
The father left his little son,
As plainlye doth appeare.
When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred poundes a yeare.
And to his little daughter Jane 25
Five hundred poundes in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day.
Which might not be controll'd :
IN THE WOOD. 173
But if the children chance to dye,
Ere they to age should come, 30
Their uncle should possesse their wealth ;
For so the wille did run.
Now, brother, said the dying- man.
Look to my children deare ;
Be good unto my boy and girl, 35
No friendes else have they here :
To God and you I recommend
My children deare this daye ;
But little while be sure we have
Within this world to staye. 40
You must be father and mother both.
And uncle all in one ;
God knowes what will become of them,
When I am dead and gone.
With that bespake their mother deare, 45
O brother kinde, quoth shee.
You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or miserie :
And if you keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward ; 50
But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deedes regard.
With lippes as cold as any stone.
They kist their children small :
God bless you both, my children deare ; 55
With that the tcares did fall.
These speeches then their brother spake
To this sicke coui)l(t there.
The keeping of your little ones
Sweet sister, do not feare ; 60
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children deare.
When you arc layd in grave.
174 THE CHILDREN
The parents being dead and gone, 65
The children home he takes,
And bringes them straite unto his house,
Where much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a daye, 70
But, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both awaye.
He bargain'd with two ruffians strong.
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take these children young, 7s
And slaye them in a wood.
He told his wife an artful tale,
He would the children send
To be brought up in faire London,
With one that was his friend. 80
Away then went those pretty babes,
Rejoycing at that tide,
Rejoycing with a merry minde,
They should on cock-horse ride.
They prate and prattle pleasandy, 85
As they rode on the waye,
To those that should their butchers be,
And work their lives decaye :
So that the pretty speeche they had.
Made Murder's heart relent ; 90
And they that undertooke the deed.
Full sore did now repent.
Yet one of them more hard of heart,
Did vowe to do his charge,
Because the wretch, that hired him, 9s
Had paid him very large.
The other won't agree thereto,
So here they fall to strife ;
With one another they did fight,
About the childrens life : 1°°
IN THE WOOD. 175
And he that was of mildest mood,
Did slaye the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood ;
The babes did quake for feare !
He took the children by the hand, 105
Teares standin^^ in their eye,
And bad them straitwaye follow him,
And look they did not crye :
And two long miles he ledd them on.
While they for food complaine : no
Staye here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread.
When I come back againe.
These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and downe ;
But never more could see the man 115
Approaching from the town :
Their prettye Hppes with black-berries,
Were all besmear'd and dyed,
And when they sawe the darksome night,
They sat them downe and cryed. 120
Thus wandered these poor innocents.
Till deathe did end their grief,
In one anothers amies they dyed.
As wanting due relief:
No burial ' this' pretty * pair' 125
Of any man receives,
Till Robin-red-breast piously
Did cover them with leaves.
And now the heavy wrathe of God
c; Upon their uncle fell ; 130
) Yea, fearfull fiends did haunt his house.
His conscience felt an hell :
Vcr. 125. these . . . babes. /\P.
/
1^^ CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.
/
yJ^\^ His barnes were fir'd, his goodes consum'd,
3~ His landes were barren made,
d
■^ His catde dyed within the field, ns
And nothing with him stayd.
And in a voyage to Portugal*
Two of his sonnes did dye ;
And to conclude, himselfe was brought
To want and miserye : 140
He pawn'd and mortgaged all his land
Ere seven yeares came about. ^-"^
And now at length this wicked act
Did by this meanes come out :
The fellowe, that did take in hand 145
These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judg'd to dye.
Such was God's blessed will :
Who did confess the very truth,
As here hath been display'd : 15°
Their uncle having dyed in gaol.
Where he for debt was layd.
You that executors be made.
And overseers eke
Of children that be fatherless, iss
And infants mild and meek ;
Take you example by this thing,
And yield to each his right,
Lest God with such like miserye
\ Your wicked minds requite. 160
5
[* Ritson has the following note {Ancient Songs, 1829, vol. ii.
p- 155) : "^^^"^ voyage, a.d. 1588. See the Catalogue of the Harl.
MSS. No. 167 {15), Dr. Percy, not knowing that the text alludes
to a particular event, Kas altered it to a voyage."]
A LOVER OF LATE.
1 1
XIX
A LOVER OF LATE.
RINTED, with a few slight corrections, from the Edi-
tor's foUo MS.
3^^3S^^S3«a [This song is printed, Hales and Furnivall's edition
of the MS. vol. iii. p. 3S9.]
LOVERof late was I,
For Cupid would have it soe,
The boy that hath never an eye,
As every man doth know :
I sighed and sobbed, and cryed, alas !
For her that laught, and called me ass.
Then knew not I what to doe,
When I saw itt was in vaine
A lady soe coy to wooe.
Who gave me the asse soe plaine :
Yet would I her asse freelye bee,
Soe shee would helpe, and beare with mee.
An' I were as faire as shee,
Or shee were as kind as I,
What payre cold have made, as wee,
Soe pretty e a sympathye :
I was as kind as she was faire.
But for all this wee cold not paire.
10
>5
[Ver. 8. when I see itt was vainc. V. 10. and gave.]
fainc, MS. [V. 14. and shee, MS.)
N
V. I
->
178 THE KING AND
Paire with her that will for mee,
With her I will never paire ;
That cunningly can be coy,
For being a little faire.
The asse He leave to her disdaine ;
And now I am myselfe againe.
XX.
THE KING AND MILLER OF
MANSFIELD.
^T has been a favourite subject with our Enghsh 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 Forrester &c. Of the latter
sort, are K. Alfred and the Shepherd; K. Edward IV. and the
Tanner;* K, Henry VIII. and the Cobler, &c. — A few of the
best of these are admitted into this collection. Both the author
of the following ballad, and others who have written on the same
plan, seem to have copied a very ancient poem, intitled John
the Reeve, which is built on an adventure of the same kind, that
happened between K. Edward Longshanks, and one of his Reeves
or Bailiffs. This is a piece of great antiquity, being written before
the time of Edward IV. and for its genuine humour, diverting in-
cidents, and faithful picture of rustic manners, is infinitely superior
to all that have been since written in imitation of it. The Editor
has a copy in his ancient folio MS. but its length rendered it im-
proper for this volume, it consisting of more than 900 lines. It
contains also some corruptions, and the Editor chuses to defer its
publication in hopes that some time or other he shall be able to
remove them.
The following is printed, with corrections, from the editor's
folio MS. collated with an old black-letter copy in the Pepys Col-
[* See vol. ii. book i. No. 15.]
MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 179
lection, intitled A pleasant ballad ol K. Henry II. and the Miller
of JMansJuld, oj^e.
[This ballad oi Henry II. and the Miller of Mafisjield CdJ\x\o\. be
traced farther back than the end of Elizabeth's reign or the be-
ginning of James's. One of the three copies in the Roxburghe
Collection is dated by Mr. Chappell between 162 1 and 1655, and
the copy in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 147)
was written about the same period. (See Roxburghe Ballads, ed.
Chappell, vol. i. p. 53S.)
As there are earlier copies than the one in the Folio MS. it has
not been thought necessary to add Collations.
John the I^ear, referred to above, is one of the earliest and most
interesting of this large class of tales. It was printed for the first
time in Hales and Fumivall's edition of the MS. (vol. ii. p. 550)
with a valuable introduction.
This spirited poem was probably wTitten originally in the middle
of the fifteenth century. " It professes to describe an incident
that took place in the days of King Edward. It adds :
Of that name were Kings three
But Edward with the long shanks was he,
A lord of great renown.
o'-
The poem then* was written after the death of Edward III.; that is,
after 1377, and before the accession of Edward IV., that is before
1 46 1. "J
Part the First.
ENRY,our royall king, would ride a hunting
To thcgreene forest so pleasant and faire;
To see the harts skipping, and dainty does
tripping :
Unto merry .Sherwood his nobles repaire :
Hawke and hound were unbound, all things prepar'd 5
For the game, in the same, with good regard.
All a long summers day rode the king pleasantlye,
With all his princes and nobles eche one ;
i8o THE KING AND
Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gallantlye,
Till the dark evening forc'd all to turne home, lo
Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood, late in the night.
Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and downe,
With a rude miller he mett at the last :
Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham; 15
Sir, quoth the miller, I meane not to jest,
Yet I thinke, what I thinke, sooth for to say,
You doe not lightlye ride out of your way.
Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our king
merrily.
Passing thy judgment upon me so briefe ? 20
Good faith, sayd the miller, I meane not to flatter thee ;
I guess thee to be but some gentleman thiefe ;
Stand thee backe, in the darke ; light not adowne.
Lest that I presentlye cracke thy knaves crowne.
Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, saying
thus ; 25
I am a gentleman ; lodging I lacke.
Thou hast not, quoth th' miller, one groat in thy
purse ;
All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe.
*I have gold to discharge all that I call ;
If it be forty pence, I will pay all. 3a
If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller,
I sweare by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night.
Here's my hand, quoth the king, that was I ever.
Nay, soft, quoth the miller, thou may'st be a sprite.
Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake; 35
With none but honest men hands will I take.
* The king says this.
MILLER OF MANSFIELD. iSi
Thus they went all along' unto the miller's house ;
Where they were seething of puddings and souse ■}
The miller first enter'd in, after him went the king ;
Never came hee in soe smoakye a house. 40
Now, quoth hee, let me see here what you are.
Quoth our king, looke your fill, and doe not spare.
I like well thy countenance, thou hast an honest face ;
With my son Richard this night thou shalt lye.
Quoth his wife, by my troth, it is a handsome youth, 45
Yet it's best, husband, to deal warilye.
Art thou no run away, prythee, youth, tell ?
Shew me thy passport, and all shal be well.
Then our king presentlye, making lowe courtesye,
With his hatt in his hand, thus he did say ; 50
I have no passport, nor never was servitor.
But a poor courtyer, rode out of my way :
And for your kindness here offered to mee,
I will requite you in everye degree.
Then to the miller his wife whisper'd secretlye, 55
Saying, It seemeth, this youth's of good kin.
Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners ;
To turne him out, certainlye, were a great sin.
Yea, quoth hee, you may see, he hath some grace
When he doth speake to his betters in place. 60
Well, quo' the millers wife, young man, ye're wel-
come here ;
And, though I say it, well lodged sliall be :
Fresh straw will I have, laid on thy bed so brave,
And good brown hempen sheets likewise, quoth
shee.
Aye, quoth the good man ; and when that is done, 65
Thou shalt lye with no worse, than our own sonne.
[^ The head, feet, and ears of swine boiled and pickled for
eating. — JJal/iwclfs Dictionary.]
1 82 THE KING AND
Nay, first, quoth Richard, good-fellowe, tell me true,
Host thou noe creepers within thy gay hose ?
Or art thou not troubled with the scabbado ?
I pray, quoth the king, what creatures are those ? 70
Art thou not lowsy, nor scabby ? quoth he :
If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with mee.
This caus'd the king, suddenlye, to laugh most
heartilye.
Till the teares trickled fast downe from his eyes.
Then to their supper were they set orderlye, 75
With hot bag-puddings, and good apple-pyes ;
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle,
Which did about the board merrilye trowle.
Here, quoth the miller, good fellowe, I drinke to thee.
And to all ' cuckholds, wherever they bee.' 80
I pledge thee, quotth our king, and thanke thee
heartilye
For my good welcome in everye degree :
And here, in like manner, I drinke to thy sonne.
Do then, quoth Richard, and quicke let it come.
Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth lightfoote, 85
And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste.
A fair ven'son pastye brought she out presentlye.
Eate, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no waste.
Here's dainty lightfoote ! In faith, sayd the king,
I never before eat so daintye a thing. 90
I wis, quoth Richard, no daintye at all it is,
For we doe eate of it everye day.
In what place, sayd our king, may be bought like to
this ?
We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay :
From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here ; 95
Now and then we make bold with our kings deer.
Ver. 80. courtnalls, that courteous be. MS. and P.
MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 183
Then I thinke, sayd our king, that it is venison.
Eche foole, quoth Richard, full well may know that :
Never are wee without two or three in the roof,
\^ery well fleshed, and excellent fat : 100
But, pr)thee, say nothing wherever thou goe ;
We would not, for two pence, the king should it knowe.
Doubt not, then sayd the king, my promist secresye ;
The king shall never know more on't for mee.
A cupp of lambs-wool' they dranke unto him then, 10,
And to their bedds they past presentlie.
The nobles, next morning, went all up and down,
For to seeke out the king in everye towne.
At last, at the miller's ' cott,' soone they espy'd him
out,
As he was mounting upon his faire steede ; no
To whom they came presently, falling down on their
knee ;
Which made the millers heart wofully bleede ;
Shaking and quaking, before him he stood.
Thinking he should have been hang'd, by the rood.
The king perceiving him fearfully trembling, 115
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he sed :
The miller downe did fall, crying before them all.
Doubting the king would have cut off his head.
But he his kind courtesye for to requite.
Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight. 120
[^ A favourite liquor among the common people, composed of
ale and roasted apj^ies, the pulp of the a])i)le worked uj) with the
ale till the mixture formed a smooth beverage. Narcs^ Glossary.^
1 84 THE KING AND
Part the Seconde.
■HEN as our royall king came home from
Nottingham,
And with his nobles at Westminster lay ;
Recounting the sports and pastimes they
had taken,
In this late progress along on the way ;
Of them all, great and small, he did protest, 5
The miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best.
And now, my lords, quoth the king, I am determined
Against St. Georges next sumptuous feast.
That this old miller, our new confirm'd knight,
With his son Richard, shall here be my guest : 10
For, in this merryment, 'tis my desire
To talke with the jolly knight, and the young squire.
W^hen as the noble lords saw the kinges pleasantness.
They were right joyfuU and glad in their hearts :
A pursuivant there was sent straighte on the busi-
ness, '5
The which had often-times been in those parts.
When he came to the place, where they did dwell,
His message orderlye then 'gan he tell.
God save your worshippe, then said the messenger,
And grant your ladye her own hearts desire ; 20
And to your sonne Richard good fortune and happi-
ness ;
That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire.
Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say.
You must come to the court on St. George's day ;
Therfore, in any case, faile not to be in place. 25
I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd jest :
MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 1S5
What should we doe there ? faith, I am halfe afraid.
I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang'd at the least.
Nay, quoth the messeng-er, you doe mistake ;
Our king he provides a great feast for your sake. 30
Then sayd the miller, By my troth, messenger,
Thou hast contented my worshippe full well.
Hold here are three farthings, to quite thy gentleness,
For these happy tydings, which thou dost tell.
Let me see, hear thou mee ; tell to our king, 35
We'll wayt on his mastershipp in everye thing.
The pursuivant smiled at their simplicitye,
And, making many leggs, tooke their reward ;
And his leave taking with great humilitye
To the kings court againe he repair'd ; 40
Shewing unto his grace, merry and free,
The knio-htes most liberall grift and bountie.
When he w'as gone away, thus gan the miller say,
Here come expences and charges indeed ;
Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend all we
have ; 45
For of new orarments we have g-reat need :
Of horses and serving-men we must have store,
With bridles and saddles, and twentye things more.
Tushe, sir John, quoth his wife, why should you frett,
or frowne ^.
You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee ; 50
For I will turne and trim up my old russet gowne,
With everye thing else as fine as may bee ;
And on our mill-horses swift we will ride.
With pillowes and pannells, as we shall provide.
In this most statelye sort, rode they unto the court, 55
Their jolly sonne Richard rode foremost of all ;
1 86 THE KING AND
Who set up, for good hap, a cocks feather in his cap,
And so they jetted^ downe to the kings hall ;
The merry old miller with hands on his side ;
His wife, like maid Marian, did mince at that tide. 60
The king and his nobles that heard of their coming,
Meeting this gallant knight with his brave traine ;
Welcome, sir knight, quoth he, with your gay lady :
Good sir John Cockle, once welcome againe :
And soe is the squire of courage soe free. 65
Quoth Dicke, A bots on you ! do you know mee ?
Quoth our king gentlye, how should I forget thee ?
That wast my owne bed-fellowe, well it I wot.
Yea, sir, quoth Richard, and by the same token,
Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot. 70
Thou whore-son unhappy knave, then quoth the
knight,
Speake cleanly to our king, or else go sh***.
The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily.
While the king taketh them both by the hand ;
With the court-dames, and maids, like to the queen
of spades t^
The millers wife did soe orderlye stand.
A milk-maids courtesye at every word ;
And downe all the folkes were set to the board.
There the king royally, in princelye majestye.
Sate at his dinner with joy and delight ; 80
When they had eaten well, then he to jesting fell.
And in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight :
Ver. 57. for good hap : i. e. for good luck ; they were going on
an hazardous expedition.
Ver. 60. Maid Marian in the Morris dance, was represented by
a man in woman's cloaths, who was to take short steps in order to
sustain the female character.
[1 strutted.]
MILLER OF MANSFIELD. 187
Here's to you both, in wine, ale and beer ;
Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer.
Quoth sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle, 85
Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire :
But then said our king, now I think of a thing;
Some of your lightfoote I would we had here.
Ho! ho! quoth Richard, full well I may say it,
'Tis knavery to eate it, and then to betray it. 90
Why art thou angry ? quoth our king merrilye ;
In faith, I take it now very unkind :
I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine
heartily.
Quoth Dicke, You are like to stay till I have din'd :
You feed us with twatling dishes soe small ; 95
Zounds, a blacke-pudding is better than all.
Aye, marr}', quoth our king, that were a daintye thing.
Could a man get but one here for to eate.
With that Dicke straite arose, and pluckt one from
his hose.
Which with heat of his breech gan to sweate. 100
The king made a proffer to snatch it away : —
'Tis meat for your master : good sir, you must stay.
Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent ;
And then the ladycs prepared to dance.
Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent* 105
Unto their places the king did advance.
Here with the ladyes such sport they did make.
The nobles with laughing did make their sides ake.
Many thankes for their paines did the king give them,
Asking young Richard then, if he would wed; no
Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee ?
Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red head :
[' forthwith.]
i88 THE SHEPHERD'S
She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed ;
She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead.
Then sir John Cockle the king called unto him, 115
And of merry Sherwood made him o'er seer ;
And gave him out of hand three hundred pound
yearlye :
Take heed now you steale no more of my deer :
And once a quarter let's here have your view ;
And now, sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu. no
XXI.
THE SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION.
^HIS beautiful old song was written by a poet, whose
name would have been utterly forgotten, if it had not
^^ been preserved by Swift, as a temi of contempt.
Dryden and Wither are coupled by him like the
Bavins and Mcevius of Virgil. Dryden, however, has had jus-
tice done him by posterity : and as for Wither, though of subor-
dinate merit, that he was not altogether devoid of genius, will be
judged from the following stanzas. The truth is. Wither was a
very voluminous party-writer: and as his political and satyrical
strokes rendered him extremely popular in his life-time ; so after-
wards, when these were no longer relished, they totally consigned
his writings to oblivion.
George Wither was born June 11, 1588, and in his younger
years distinguished himself by some pastoral pieces, that were not
inelegant; but growing afterwards involved in the political and
religious disputes in the times of James I. and Charles I. he
employed his poetical vein in severe pasquils on the court and
clergy, and was occasionally a sufferer for the freedom of his pen.
In the civil war that ensued, he exerted himself in the service of
the Parliament, and became a considerable sharer in the spoils.
He was even one of those provincial tyrants, whom OHver dis-
tributed over the kingdom, under the name of Major Generals ;
and had the fleecing of the county of Surrey : but surviving the
Restoration, he outlived both his power and his affluence ; and
RESOLUTION. 189
giving vent to his chagrin in libels on the court, was long a
prisoner in Newgate and the Tower. He died at length on the
2d of May, 1667.
During the whole course of his life. Wither was a continual
publisher; having generally for opponent, Taylor the Water-poet.
The long hst of his productions may be seen in Wood's AtJience.
Oxon. vol. ii. His most popular satire is intitled. Abuses ivhipt
and stript, 1613. His most poetical pieces were eclogues, intitled,
The Shepherifs Hunting, 16 15, 8vo. and others printed at the end
of Browne's Shepherd's Pipe, 16 14, Svo. The following sonnet is
extracted from a long pastoral piece of his, intitled, The Mistresse
of Fhi/arete, 1622, Svo. which is said in the preface to be one of
the Author's first poems ; and may therefore be dated as early as
any of the foregoing.
[This favourite song appeared in 1619, appended to Wither's
Fidelia, and again in his Juvenilia in 1633 in Fair Virtue the
mistress of Fhilarete. It was reprinted again and again, and
occurs in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 50).
Mr. Chappell refers to a copy in the Pepys Collection entitled,
A Neio Song of a young man's opinion of the difference between good
and bad tvojnat, the first line of which is, " Shall I wrestling in
despaire?" This reading seems to have been pretty popular, as
Mr. Chappell gi.ves two instances of the tune being called "Shall
I wrastle in despair V Mr. Chappell prints a song in the same
metre and with a similar burden, which has been attributed on
insufficient evidence to Sir Walter Raleigh. The first stanza is as
follows: —
" Shall I like a hermit dwell
On a rock or in a cell ?
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing of my heart,
To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day ?
If she undervalues me
What care I how fair she be."
Popular Music of the Olden Time, vol. i. p. 3 15. J
I90 THE SHEPHERD'S
HALL I, wasting in dispaire,
Dye because a woman's faire ?
Or make pale my cheeks with care,
'Cause another's rosie are ?
Be shee fairer then the day, 5
Or the flowery meads in may ;
If she be not so to me,
What care I how faire shee be ?
Shall my foolish heart be pin'd,
'Cause I see a woman kind ? 10
Or a well-disposed nature
Joyned with a lovely feature ?
Be she meeker, kinder, than
The turtle-dove or pelican :
If shee be not so to me, 15
What care I how kind shee be ?
Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love ?
Or, her well-deservings knowne.
Make me quite forget mine owne ? 20
Be shee with that goodnesse blest,
Which may merit name of Best ;
If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be ?
Cause her fortune seems too high, 25
Shall I play the foole and dye ?
Those that beare a noble minde.
Where they want of riches find,
[Ver. 7. if shee thinke not well of mee, MS. V. 23. soe to me,
MS. V. 25-32. this stanza is not in the MS]
RESOLUTION. 191
Think what with them they would doe,
That without them dare to woe ; 30
And, unlesse that minde I see.
What care I how crreat she be ?
Great or good, or kind or faire,
I will ne'er the more dispaire :
If she love me, this beleeve ; 35
I will die ere she shall cfrieve.
If she slight me when I wooe,
I can scorn and let her goe :
If shee be not fit for me.
What care I for whom she be ? 40
XXII.
OUEEN DIDO.
(UCH is the title given in the editors foho MS.* to this
excellent old ballad, which, in the common printed
copies, is inscribed, Eneas, wandering Prince of Troy.
It is here given from that MS. collated with two dif-
ferent printed copies, both in black-letter, in the Pepys Collection.
The reader will smile to observe with what natural and affecting
simplicity, our ancient ballad-maker has engrafted a Gothic con-
clusion on the classic story of Virgil, from whom, however, it is
probable he had it not Nor can it be denied, but he has dealt
out his poetical justice with a more impartial hand, than that
celebrated poet.
[This once popular ballad was entered on the Registers of the
Stationers Company in 1 564-5 as "a ballett intituled 'J'he IVanderynge
Prince'' Its great popularity is evidenced by the frequent re-
ferences in literature and the large number of ballads sung to the
tune of Queen Dido or Troy toxvnc. In The Penniless Parliament of
Threadbare Poets^ 1608, ale-knights are said to " sing Queen Dido
[* Ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 502.]
192 QUEEN DIDO.
over a cup and tell strange news over an ale-pot," and the same
song is referred to in Fletcher's Captain (act iii. sc. 3) and his
Bonduca, act i. sc. 2.
The only tune that Mr. Chappell could find for the ballad was
one by Dr. John Wilson (the Jack Wilson of Shakspere's stage
according to Dr. Rimbault), which is printed in his Cheerful Ay res
or Ballads, Oxford, 1660.]
;H E N Troy towne had, for ten yeeres "past,"
Withstood the Greekes in manfull wise,
Then did their foes encrease soe fast,
That to resist none could suffice :
Wast lye those walls, that were soe good, 5
And corne now growes where Troy towne stoode.
^neas, wandering prince of Troy,
When he for land long time had sought,
At length arriving with great joy.
To mighty Carthage walls was brought ; 10
Where Dido queene, with sumptuous feast,
Did entertaine that wandering guest.
And, as in hall at meate, they sate,
The queene, desirous newes to heare,
"Says, of thy Troys unhappy fate" 15
Declare to me thou Trojan deare :
The heavy hap and chance soe bad,
That thou, poore wandering prince, hast had.
And then anon this comelye knight,
With words demure, as he cold well, 20
Of his unhappy ten yeares " fight,"
Soe true a tale began to tell.
With words soe sweete, and sighes so deepe,
That oft he made them all to weepe.
Ver. I. 21. war. MS. and/'/'.
QUEEN DIDO. 193
And then a thousand sighes he fet,' 25
And every sigh brought teares amaine ;
That where he sate the place was wett,
As though he had scene those warrs ajraine ;
Soe that the queene, with ruth therfore,
Said, worthy prince, enough, no more. 30
And then the darksome nic^ht drew on,
And twinkling starres the skye bespred ;
When he his dolefull tale had done,
And every one was layd in bedd :
Where they full sweetly tooke their rest, 35
Save only Dido's boyling brest.
This silly woman never slept,
But in her chamber, all alone,
As one unhappye, alwayes wept,
And to the walls shee made her mone ; 40
That she shold still desire in vaine
The thing,, she never must obtaine.
And thus in grieffe she spent the night.
Till twinkling starres the skye were fled,
And Phoebus, with his glistering light, 4-5
Through misty cloudcs appeared red ;
Then tidini/s came to her anon,
That all the Trojan shipps were gone.
And then the queene with bloody knife
Did armc her hart as hard as stone, 50
Yet, something loth to loose her life,
In woefull wise she made her mone ;
And, rowling on her carefull bed.
With sighes and sobbs, these words shee sayd :
O wretched Dido queene ! quoth shee, 'i<i
I see thy end approachcth neare ;
^ fetched.
194 QUEEN DIDO.
For hee is fled away from thee,
Whom thou didst love and hold so deare :
What is he gone, and passed by ?
O hart, prepare thyselfe to dye. 60
Though reason says, thou shouldst forbeare.
And stay thy hand from bloudy stroke ;
Yet fancy bids thee not to fear.
Which fetter'd thee in Cupids yoke.
Come death, quoth shee, resolve my smart ! — 65
And with those words shee peerced her hart.
When death had pierced the tender hart
Of Dido, Carthaginian queene ;
Whose bloudy knife did end the smart.
Which shee sustain'd in mournfull teene^ ; 70
^neas being shipt and gone.
Whose flattery caused all her mone ;
Her funerall most costly made,
And all things finisht mournfullye ;
Her body fine in mold was laid, 75
Where itt consumed speedilye :
Her sisters teares her tombe bestrewde ;
Her subjects griefe their kindnesse shewed.
Then was ^neas in an ile
In Grecya, where he stayd long space, 80
Wheras her sister in short while
Writt to him to his vile disgrace ;
In speeches bitter to his mind
Shee told him plaine he was unkind.
False-harted wretch, quoth shee, thou art ; 85
And traiterouslye thou hast betraid
Unto thy lure a gentle hart.
Which unto thee much welcome made ;
[1 trouble.]
QUEEN DIDO. 195
My sister deare, and Carthage' joy,
Whose folly bred her deere annoy. 90
Yett on her death-bed when shee lay,
Shee prayd for thy prosperitye,
Beseeching god, that every day
Might breed thy great felicitye :
Thus by thy meanes I lost a friend ; 95
Heavens send thee such untimely end.
When he these lines, full fraught with gall,
Perused had, and wayed them right,
His lofty courage then did fall ;
And straight appeared in his sight 100
Queene Dido's ghost, both grim and pale ;
Which made this valliant souldier quaile.
^neas, quoth this ghastly ghost.
My whole delight when I did live,
Thee of all men I loved most ; 105
My fancy and my will did give ;
F"or entertainment I thee gave,
Unthankefully thou didst me grave.
Therfore prepare thy flitting soule
To wander with me in the aire; no
Where deadlye griefe shall make it howle,
Because of me thou tookst no care :
Delay not time, thy glasse is run,
Thy date is past, thy life is done.
O stay a while, thou lovely sprite, us
Be not soe hasty to convay
My soule into eternall night.
Where itt shall ne're behold bright day.
O doe not frowne ; thy angry looke,
..Hath "all my soule with horror shooke." no
Vcr. 120. MS. llatit made my breath my life forsookc.
196 QUEEN DIDO.
But, woe is me ! all is in vaine,
And bootless is my dismall crye ;
Time will not be recalled againe,
Nor thou surcease before I dye.
0 lett me live, and make amends 125
To some of thy most deerest friends.
But seeing thou obdurate art,
And wilt no pittye on me show.
Because from thee I did depart,
And left unpaid what I did owe : 130
1 must content myselfe to take
What lott to me thou wilt partake.
And thus, as one being in a trance,
A multitude of uglye feinds
- About this woffull prince did dance ; 135
He had no helpe of any friends :
His body then they tooke away.
And no man knew his dying day.
XXHI.
THE WITCHES' SONG
J ROM Ben Jonson's Masque of Queens presented at
Whitehall, Feb. 2, 1609.
The editor thought it incumbent on him to insert
some old pieces on the popular superstition concerning
witches, hobgoblins, fairies, and ghosts. The last of these make
their appearance in most of the tragical ballads ; and in the fol-
lowing songs will be found some description of the former.
It is true, this song of the Witches, falling from the learned pen
of Ben Jonson, is rather an extract from the various incantations
of classical antiquity, than a display of the opinions of our own
vulgar. But let it be observed, that a parcel of learned wiseacres
had just before busied themselves on this subject, in compliment
THE WITCHES' SONG. 197
to K. James I. whose weakness on this head is well known : and
these had so ransacked all writers, ancient and modern, and so
blended and kneaded together the several superstitions of different
times and nations, that those of genuine EngHsh growth could no
longer be traced out and distinguished.
By good luck the whimsical belief of fairies and goblins could
furnish no pretences for torturing our fellow-creatures, and therefore
we have this handed dowTi to us pure and unsophisticated.
1 Witch.*
;t?f^)^ HAVE been all day lookinof after
$-^ A raven leeding upon a quarter ;
f^/ And, soone as she turn'd her beak to the
south,
I snatch'd this morsell out of her mouth.
2 Witch.
I have beene gathering wolves haires, 5
The madd dogges foames, and adders cares ;
The spurging of a deadmans eyes :
And all since the eveninof starre did rise.
3 Witch.
I last night lay all alone
O' the ground, to heare the mandrake grone ; 10
And pluckt him up, though he grew full low:
And, as I had done, the cocke did crow.
4 Witch.
And I ha' bcenc chusing out this scull
From charncll houses that were full ;
[• These witches arc called Hags by Jonson.J
T98 THE WITCHES' SONG.
From private grots, and publike pits ; 15
And frighted a sexton out of his wits.
5 Witch.
Under a cradle I did crepe
By day ; and, when the childe was a-sleepe
At night, I suck'd the breath ; and rose,
And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the nose. 20
6 Witch.
I had a dagger : what did I with that ?
Killed an infant to have his fat.
A piper it got at a church-ale,^
I bade him again blow wind i' the taile.
7 Witch.
A murderer, yonder, was hung in chaines ; 25
The sunne and the wind had shrunke his veines :
I bit off a sinew ; I clipp'd his haire ;
I brought off his ragges, that danc'd i' the ayre.
8 Witch.
The scrich-owles egges and the feathers blacke,
The bloud of the frogge, and the bone in his backe 30
I have been getting ; and made of his skin
A purset, to keep sir Cranion'^ in.
9 Witch.
And I ha' beene plucking (plants among)
Hemlock, henbane, adders-tongue.
Night-shade, moone-wort, libbards-bane'^ ; 35
And twise by the dogges was like to be tane.
\} a wake or feast in commemoration of the dedication of a
church. '^ skull. ^ ^^ j^g^.^ wolfbane.]
THE WITCHES' SONG. 199
10 Witch.
I from the jawes of a gardiner's bitch
Did snatch these bones, and then leap'd the ditch :
Yet went I back to the house againe,
Kill'd the blacke cat, and here is the braine. 40
1 1 Witch.
I went to the toad, breedes under the wall,
I charmed him out, and he came at my call ;
I scratch'd out the eyes of the owle before ;
I tore the batts wing : what would you have more ?
Dame.*
Yes : I have brought, to helpe your vows, 45
Horned poppie, cypresse boughes.
The fig-tree wild, that growes on tombes,
And juice, that from the larch-tree comes,
The basiliskes bloud, and the viper's skin :
And now our orgies let's begin. so
XXIV.
ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW,
'UAS Pucke, alias Hobgoblin, in the creed of ancient
A sujjerstition, was a kind of merry sprite, whose character
y<j and atchievements are recorded in this balhid, and in
^^ those well-known lines of Milton's L' Allegro, which the
antiquarian Peck supposes to be owing to it :
" Tells how the drudging Goblin swet
To earn his creame-bowle duly set ;
When in one night ere glimpse of morne.
His shadowy Hail hath ihrcsh'd the corn
• [Jonson meant the Dame to represent Ate or the goddess of
Mischief]
200 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW.
That ten day-labourers could not end ;
Then lies him down the lubber fiend,
And stretch'd out all the chimneys length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength,
And crop-full out of doors he flings.
Ere the first cock his matins rings."
The reader will observe that our simple ancestors had reduced
all these whimsies to a kind of system, as regular, and perhaps
more consistent, that many parts of classic mythology : a proof of
the extensive influence and vast antiquity of these superstitions.
Mankind, and especially the common people, could not every
where have been so unanimously agreed concerning these arbi-
trary notions, if they had not prevailed among them for many
ages. Indeed, a learned friend in Wales assures the Editor, that
the existence of Fairies and Goblins is alluded to by the most
ancient British Bards, who mention them under various names,
one of the most common of which signifies. The spirits of the
mountaijis. See also Preface to Song XXV.
This song, which Peck attributes to Ben Jonson, (tho' it is not
found among his works) is chiefly printed from an ancient black-
letter copy in the British Museum. It seems to have been ori-
ginally intended for some Masque.
It is intitled, in the old black-letter copies. The mad merry
Prankes of Robin Goodfellow. To the XvlXiq oi Dulcina, &c. (See
No. XIII. above.)
To one, if not more of the old copies, are prefixed two wooden
cuts, said to be taken from Bulwer's Artificial Changelings &=€.,
which, as they seem to correspond with the notions then enter-
tained of the whimsical appearances of this fantastic spirit, and
perhaps were copied in the dresses in which he was formerly ex-
hibited on the stage, are, to gratify the curious, engraven below.
[The copy in the Roxburghe Collection (ed. Chappell, vol. ii.
pi. i. p. 80) is printed by H[enry] G[osson], who was a contem-'
porary of Ben Jonson. Some little books in prose on Robin Good-
fellow, written in the seventeenth century, were printed for the
Percy Society by Mr. J. P. Collier.]
ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 201
fJROM Obcron, in fairye land, "^
The kino- of ohosts and shadowes there,
j\Iad Robin I, at his command,
Sy^ Am sent to viewe the night-sports here.
What revell rout 5
Is kept about,
In every corner where I go,
I will o'ersee.
And merry bee.
And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho ! 10
More swift than lightening can I flye \y^
About this aery welkin soone, ^y^
And, in a minutes space, descrye
Each thing that's done belowe the moone.
There's not a hag 15
Or ghost shall wag.
Or cry, ware Goblins ! where I go ;
But Robin I
Their feates will spy.
And send them home, with ho, ho, ho ! 20
Whene'er such wanderers I meete.
As from their night-sports they trudge home ; ^
With counterfeiting voice I greete
And call them on, with me to roame
Thro' woods, thro' lakes, 25 y
Thro' bogs, thro' brakes ;
Or else, unseene, with them I go.
All in the nicke
To play some tricke
And frolicke it, with ho, ho, ho ! 30
Sometimes I meete them like a man ; y
Sometimes, an ox, sometimes, a hound;
And to a horse I turn me can ;
'\i) trip and trot about them round.
202 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW.
But if, to ride, 3S
My backe they stride, \/
More swift than wind away I go,
Ore hedge and lands,
Thro' pools and ponds
I whirry, laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 4°
When lads and lasses merry be,
With possets and with juncates fine ; V
Unseene of all the company,
I eat their cakes and sip their wine ;
An4, to make sport, 45
I fart and snort ;
And out the candles I do blow :
The maids I kiss ;
They shrieke — Who's this ?
I answer nought, but ho, ho, ho I so
Yet now and then, the maids to please,
At midnight I card up their wooll ;
And while they sleepe, and take their ease.
With wheel to threads their flax 1 pull.
I grind at mill ss
Their malt up still ;
I dress their hemp, I spin their tow.
If any 'wake,
And would me take,
I wend me, laughing, ho, ho, ho ! 6o
When house or harth doth sluttish lye,
I pinch the maidens blacke and blue ;
The bed-clothes from the bedd pull I,
And lay them naked all to view.
'Twixt sleepe and wake, 65
I do them take,
[Ver. 6 1 . this begins the second part in the Roxburghe copy.]
ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW. 20
a
And on the key-cold floor them throw. \/^
If out they cry,
Then forth 1 fly,
And loudly laugh out, ho, ho, ho ! 70
When any need to borrowe ought,
We lend them what they do require ;
And for the use demand we nought ;
Our owne is all we do desire.
If to repay, 75
They do delay,
Abroad amonirst them then I oro,
And night by night,
I them afl'ritrht
With pinchings, dreames, and ho, ho, ho ! 80
W hen lazie queans have nought to do,
But study how to cog and lye ;
To make debate and mischief too,
'Twixt one another secretlye :
I marke their gloze, 85
And it disclose.
To them whom they have wronged so ;
When I have done,
I get me gone,
And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho ! 90
When men do traps and engins set
In loop-holes, where the vermine crccpe.
Who from their foldes and houses, get
Their duckcs and geese, and lambes and sheepe :
I spy the gin, 95
And enter in,
And seeme a vermine taken so ;
But when they there
Approach me neare,
I leap out laughing, ho, ho, ho! 100
204 ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW.
By wells and rills/ in meadowes greene,
We nightly dance our hey-day guise ;^
And to our fairye king, and queene,
We chant our moon-light minstrelsies.
When larks 'gin sing, 105
Away we fling ;
And babes new borne steal as we go,
And else in bed,
We leave instead.
And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho !
no
From hag-bred Merlin's time have I
Thus nightly revell'd to and fro :
And for my pranks men call me by
The name of Robin Good-fellow.
Fiends, ghosts, and sprites, . 115
Who haunt the nightes,
The hags and goblins do me know ;
And beldames old
My feates have told ;
So Vale, Vale; ho, ho, ho !
120
XXV.
THE FAIRY QUEEN.
^E have here a short display of the popular belief con-
cerning Fairies. It will afford entertainment to a con-
templative mind to trace these whimsical opinions up
to their origin. Whoever considers, how early, how
extensively, and how uniformly, they have prevailed in these
[^ gills = rivulets, lioxb. copy.
2 a misprint for heydegies=rustic dances. The word occurs in
Lily's Endymion, 1591, and in Wm. Bulleyn's Dialogue, 1564,
where the minstrel daunces " Trenchmore " and " Heie de gie." —
Chappell^,
THE FAIRY QUEEN. 205
nations, will not readily assent to the hypothesis of those, who
-fetch them from the east so late as the time of the Croisades.
Whereas it is well known that our Saxon ancestors, long before
they left their German forests, believed the existence of a kind of
diminutive demons, or middle species between men and spirits,
whom they called Diicrgar or Dioarfs, and to whom they attri-
buted many wonderful performances, far exceeding human art.
Vid. Her\'arer Saga Olaj Verelj. 1675. Hickes' Thesaur., &c.
This Song is given (with some corrections by another copy)
from a book intitled, The Mysteries of Love and Eloquence, ^'c.
Lond. 165S, 8vo.
[Dr. Rimbault points out that this song occurs in a rare tract
published more than twenty years before the book mentioned
above. It is entitled, A description of the King and Queen of the
Fayries, their habit, f^ >'<"■, abode, pomp and state, being very delightful
to the sense and fu/i of mirth. London, 1635. The song was to
be sung to the tune of the Spanish Gypsic, which began —
" O follow, follow me
For we be gypsies three."
Martin Parker wrote a sort of parody called The three merry
Cobblers, comqiencing —
" Come follow, follow me
To the alehouse we'll march all three ;
Leave awl, last, thread and leather,
And let's go all together." t
Mr. Chappell prints the first, eighth, fourteenth and last stanzas
(^Popular Music, vol. i. p. 272.)]
OME, follow, follow me,
You, fairy elves that be :
Which circle on the c^reene,
Come follow Mah your queenc.
Hand in hand let's dance around,
For this place is fairye ground.
P5
2o6 THE FAIRY QUEEN.
When mortals are at rest,
And snoring in their nest ;
Unheard, and un-espy'd,
Through key-holes we do glide ; lo
Over tables, stools, and shelves.
We trip it with our fairy elves.
And, if the house be foul *
With platter, dish or bowl.
Up stairs we nimbly creep, is
And find the sluts asleep :
There we pinch their armes and thighes;
None escapes, nor none espies.
But if the house be swept.
And from uncleanness kept, ^o
We praise the household maid,
And duely she is paid :
For we use before we goe
To drop a tester^ in her shoe.
Upon a mushroomes head as
Our table-cloth we spread ;
A grain of rye, or wheat,
Is manchet,^ which we eat ;
Pearly drops of dew we drink
In acorn cups fiU'd to the brink. 3"
The brains of nightingales.
With unctuous fat of snailes,
[* Puck's speech in Midsummer Nighfs Dream (act v. sc. 2) —
" I am sent with broom before
To sweep the dust behind the door,"
illustrates the delight of the fairies in cleanliness, which is dwelt
upon in this and the following song.
^ tester or teston= sixpence. ^ best kind of white bread.]
THE FAIRY QUEEN. 207
Between two cockles stew'd,
Is meat that's easily chew'd ;
Tailes of wormes, and marrow of mice 35
Do make a dish, that's wonderous nice.
The grashopper, gnat, and fly,
Serve for our minstrelsie ;
Grace said, we dance a while,
And so the time beguile ; 40
And if the moon doth hide her head,
The cfloe-worm liofhts us home to bed.
On tops of dewie grasse
So nimbly do we passe,
The young and tender stalk 45
Ne'er bends when we do walk :
Yet in the morning may be seen
Where we the night before have been.
XXVI.
THE FAIRIES FAREWELL.
HIS humorous old song fell from the hand of the witty
Dr. Corbet (afterwards bishop of Norwich, &c.) and is
printed from his Poetica Stromata, 1648, i2mo. (com-
pared with the third edition of his poems, 1672.) It
is there called, A proper new Ballad, intitled, The Fairies Farewell^
or God-a-mercy Will, to be siitii^ or whistled to the tune of The Med-
dow brow, by tlie learned ; by the unlearned, to the tune of P'ortune.
The departure of Fairies is here attributed to the abolition of
monkery : Chaucer has, with ecjual humour, assigned a cause the
very reverse, in his Wife of Bath's Tale.
" In olde dayes of the king Artour,
(Jf which that liretons sjjeken gret honour,
All was this lond fulfilled of faerie ;
The elf-(iuene, with hire joly comijagnie
2o8 THE FAIRIES FAREWELL.
Danced ful oft in many a grene mede.
This was the old opinion as I rede;
I speke of many hundred yeres ago ;
But now can no man see non elves mo,
For now the grete charitee and prayeres
Of limitoures and other holy freres,
That serchen every land and every streme,
As thikke as motes in the sonne beme,
Blissing halles, chambres, kichenes, and boures,
Citees and burghes, castles high and toures,
Thropes and bernes, shepenes and dairies,
This maketh that ther ben no faeries :
For ther as wont to walken was an elf,
Ther Avalketh now the limitour himself,
In undermeles and in morweninges,
And sayth his Matines and his holy thinges,
As he goth in his limitatioun.
Women may now go safely up and doun,
In every bush, and under every tree,
Ther is non other incubus but he,
And he ne will don hem no dishonour."
Tyrwhitt's Chaucer^ i. p. 255.
Dr. Richard Corbet, having been bishop of Oxford about three
years, and afterwards as long bishop of Norwich, died in 1635,
.^tat. 52.
lAREWELL rewards and Fairies !
Good housewives now may say ;
For now foule sluts in dairies,
Doe fare as well as they :
And though they sweepe their hearths no less 5
Than mayds were wont to doe,
Yet who of late for cleaneliness
Finds sixe-pence in her shoe ?
Lament, lament old Abbies,
The fairies lost command ; 10
They did but change priests babies,
But some have chang'd your land :
THE FAIRIES FAREWELL. 209
And all your children stoln from thence
Are now growne Puritanes,
Who live as chancrelino-s ever since, 15
For love of your demaines.
At morning and at evening both
You merry were and glad,
So little care of sleepe and sloth,
These prettie ladies had. *o
When Tom came home from labour,
Or Ciss to milking rose.
Then merrily went their tabour,
And nimbly went their toes.
Witness those rings and roundelayes 15
Of theirs, which yet remaine ;
Were footed in queene Maries dayes
On many a grassy playne.
But since of late Elizabeth
And later James came in ; 3c
They never danc'd on any heath,
As when the time hath bin.
By which wee note the fairies
Were of the old profession :
Their songs were Ave Maries, 35
Their dances were procession.
But now, alas ! they all are dead,
Or gone beyond the seas.
Or farther for religion fled,
Or else they take their ease. 40
A tell-tale in their company
They never could endure ;
And whoso kept not secretly
Their mirth, was punishVl sure :
2IO THE FAIRIES FAREWELL.
It was a just and christian deed 45
To pinch such blacke and blue:
O how the common-welth doth need
Such justices, as you !
Now they have left our quarters ;
A Register they have, 50
Who can preserve their charters ;
A man both wise and grave.
An hundred of their merry pranks
By one that I could name
Are kept in store ; con twenty thanks 55
To William for the same.
To William Churne of Staffordshire
Give laud and praises due,
Who every meale can mend your cheare
With tales both old and true : 60
To William all give audience,
And pray yee for his noddle :
For all the fairies evidence
Were lost, if it were addle.
*^* After these Songs on the Fairies, the reader may be curious
to see the manner in which they were formerly invoked and bound
to human service. In Ashmole's Collection of MSS. at Oxford
(Num. 8259. 1406. 2), are the papers of some alchymist, which
contain a variety of Incantations and Forms of Conjuring both
Fairies, Witches, and Demons, principally, as it should seem, to
assist him in his Great Work of transmuting Metals. Most of
them are too impious to be reprinted : but the two following may
be very innocently laughed at.
Whoever looks into Ben Jonson's Alchymist, will find that these
impostors, among their other secrets, affected to have a power over
Fairies : and that they were commonly expected to be seen in a
christal glass appears from that extraordinary book, The Relation
of Dr. John Dee's actions with Spirits, 1659, folio.
" An excellent way to gett a Fayrie. (For myself I call Margarett
Barrance; but this will obteine any one that is not allready
bownd.)
THE FAIRIES FAREWELL. 211
" First, gett a broad square christall or Venice glasse, in length
and breadth 3 inches. Then lay that glasse or christall in the
bloud of a white henne, 3 Wednesdayes, or 3 Fridayes. Then
take it out, and wash it with holy aq. and fumigate it. Then take
3 hazle sticks, or wands of an yeare groth : pill them f;iyre and
white ; and make ' them ' soe longe, as you write the Spiritts
name, or Fayries name, which you call, 3 times on every sticke
being made flatt on one side. Then bury them under some
hill, whereas you suppose Fayries haunt, the ^Vednesday before
you call her : and the Friday followinge take them uppe, and call
her at 8 or 3 or 10 of the clocke, which be good planetts and
houres for that turne : but when you call, be in cleane life, and
turne thy face towards the east. And when you have her, bind
her to that stone or glasse."
" An Unguent to annoynt under the Eyelids, and upon the
Eyelids eveninge and morninge : but especially when you call ;
or find your sight not perfect.
" R. A pint of sallet-oyle, and put it into a viall glasse : but
first wash it with rose-water, and marygold-water ; the flowers 'to'
be gathered towards the east. Wash it till the oyle come white ;
then put it into the glasse, ut supra: and then put thereto the
budds of holyhocke, the flowers of marygold, the flowers or toppes
of wild thime, ,the budds of young hazle : and the thime must be
gathered neare the side of a hill where Fayries use to be : and
' take ' the grasse of a fayrie throne, there. All these put into the
oyle, into the glasse : and set it to dissolve 3 dayes in the sunne,
and then keep it for thy use ; ut supra.''
After this receipt for the unguent follows a form of incantation,
wherein the alchymist conjures a fairy, named F/aby Gai/jon, to
appear to him in that chrystal glass, meekly and mildly ; to resolve
him truly in all manner of questions ; and to be obedient to all his
commands, under pain of damnation, &c.
One of the vulgar opinions about fairies is, that they cannot be
seen by human eyes, without a particular charm exerted in favour
of the person who is to see them : and that they strike with blind-
ness such as having the gift of seeing them, take notice of them
mal-a-propos.
As to the hazle sticks mentioned above, they were to be pro-
bably of that species called the witch hazle ; which received its
name from this manner of applying it in incantations.
THE END OF BOOK THE .SECOND.
RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.
SERIES THE THIRD.
BOOK III.
r
repute.
I.
THE BIRTH OF ST. GEORGE.
HE incidents in this, and the other ballad of Sf. George
and the Dragon, are chiefly taken from the old story-
^"^ book of the Seven Champions of Christendome ; which,
tho' now the play-thing of children, was once in high
Bp. Hall in his Satires, published in 1597, ranks
" St. George's sorell, and his cross of blood,"
among the most popular stories of his time : and an ingenious
critic thinks tjiat Spencer himself did not disdain to borrow hints
from it ; * tho' I much doubt whether this popular romance were
written so early as the Faery Queen.
The author of this book of the Se-oen Champions was one Richard
Johnson, who lived in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, as we
collect from his other publications : viz. — The nine worthies of
London: 1592, 4to. — The pleasant 7ualks of Moor fields \ 1607,
4to. — A cro7vn garland of Goulden Roses, gathered, ^'c. 16 12, 8vo.
— The life and death of Rob. Cecill, E. of Salisbury: 16 12, 4to. —
The Hist, of Tom of Lincoln, 4to. is also by R. J. who likewise
reprinted Don Florcs of Greece, 4to.
The Seven Champions, tho' written in a wild inflated style, con-
tains some strong Gothic painting ; which seems, for the most
part, copied from the metrical romances of former ages. At least
the story of .SV. George and the fair Sabra is taken almost verbatim
from the old poetical legend of Syr Bans of ILampton.
This very antique poem was in great fame in Chaucer's time
(see above, pag. 107.), and so continued till the introduction of
printing, when it ran thro' several editions; two of which arc in
• Mr. Warton. Vid. Observations on the Fairy Queen, 2 vol.
I 762, i2mo. passim.
2i6 THE BIRTH OF
black letter, 4to. "imprinted by Wyllyam Copland," without date;
containing great variations.
As a specimen of the poetic powers of this very old rhimist, and
as a proof how closely the author of the Set'en Champions has fol-
lowed him, take a description of the dragon slain by sir Bevis.
" — Whan the dragon, that foule is,
Had a syght of syr Bevis,
He cast up a loude cry,
As it had thondred in the sky;
He turned his bely towarde the son ;
It was greater than any tonne :
His scales was bryghter then the glas,
And harder they were than any bras :
Betwene his shulder and his tayle,
Was forty fete withoute fayle.
He waltred out of his denne,
And Bevis pricked his stede then,
And to hym a spere he thraste
That all to shyvers he it braste :
The dragon then gan Bevis assayle.
And smote syr Bevis with his tayle ;
Then downe went horse and man,
And two rybbes of Bevis brused than."
After a long fight, at length, as the dragon was preparing to fly,
sir Bevis
" Hit him under the wynge,
As he was in his flyenge,
There he was tender without scale.
And Bevis thought to be his bale.
He smote after, as I you saye,
With his good sword Morglaye.
Up to the hikes Morglay yode
Through harte, lyver, bone, and bloude :
To the ground fell the dragon,
Great joye syr Bevis begon.
Under the scales al on hight
He smote off his head forth right,
And put it on a spere: &c."
Sign. K. iv.
Sir Bevis's dragon is evidently the parent of that in the Seven
Champums, see chap, iii., viz. " The dragon no sooner had a sight
of him (St. George) but he gave such a terrible peal, as though it
had thundered in the elements. . . . Betwixt his shoulders and his
ST. GEORGE. 217
tail were fifty feet in distance, his scales glistering as bright as
silver, but far more hard than brass ; his belly of the colour of
gold, but bigger than a tun. Thus weltered he from his den, &c.
. . . The champion . . . gave the dragon such a thrust with his
spear, that it shivered in a thousand pieces : whereat the furious
dragon so fiercely smote him with his venomous tail, that down
fell man and horse : in which fall two of St. George's ribs were so
bruised, (S:c. — At length ... St. George smote the dragon under
the wing where it was tender without scale, whereby his good
sword Ascalon with an easie passage went to the very hilt through
both the dragon's heart, liver, bone, and blood.— Then St. George
— cut oft' the dragon's head and pitcht it upon the truncheon of a
spear, &c."
The History of the Sr,'en Champions, being written just before
the decline of books of chivalry, was never, I believe, translated
into any foreign language : But Le Ro>na?i de Beiives of JIantonnc
was published at Paris in 1502, 4to. Let. Gothique.
The learned Selden tell us, that about the time of the Norman
invasion was Bevis famous ^^•ith the title of Earl of Southampton,
whose residence was at Duncton in Wiltshire ; but he observes,
that the monkish enlargements of his story have made his very
existence doubted. See Notes o?i Poly-Olbion, Song iii.
This hath also been the case of St. George himself; whose
martial history is allowed to be apocryphal. But, to prove that
there really exisfed an orthodox saint of this name (altho' little or
nothing, it seems, is known of his genuine story) is the subject of
Ati Historical and Critical Inquiry into the Existence and Character
of St. George, c^c. By the Rev. J. Milner, F.S.A. 1792, 8vo.
The equestrian figure worn by the Knights of the Garter, has
been understood to be an emblem of the Christian warrior, in his
spiritual armour, vanquishing the old serpent.
But on this subject the inquisitive reader may consult A Disser-
tation on the Original of the Equestrian Figure of the George and of
the Garter, ensigns of the 7nost noble order of that name. Illustrated
with copper-plates. By John Petingal, A.M., Fellow of the Society
of Antiquaries, London, 1753, 4to. This learned and curious work
the author of the Historical and Critical Inquiry would have done
well to have seen.
It cannot be denied, but that the following ballad is for the
most part modern : for which reason it would have been thrown
to the end of the volume, had not its subject procured it a place
here.
[In respect to the last paragraph, Ritson writes, " It may be
safely denied, however, that the least part of it is ancient."]
2i8 THE BIRTH OF
ISTEN, lords, in bower and hall,
I sing the wonderous birth y
Of brave St. George, whose valorous arm \/
Rid monsters from the earth :
Distressed ladies to relieve 5
He travell'd many a day ;
In honour of the christian faith,
Which shall endure for aye.
In Coventry sometime did dwell
A knight of worthy fame, 10
High steward of this noble realme ;
Lord Albert was his name.
He had to wife a princely dame,
Whose beauty did excell.
This virtuous lady, being with child, 15
In sudden sadness fell :
For thirty nights no sooner sleep
Had clos'd her wakeful eyes,
But, lo ! a foul and fearful dream
Her fancy would surprize :
She dreamt a drao-on fierce and fell
Conceiv'd within her womb ;
Whose mortal fangs her body rent
Ere he to life could come.
All woe-begone, and sad was she ; 25
She nourisht constant woe :
Yet strove to hide it from her lord,
Lest he should sorrow know.
In vain she strove, her tender lord,
Who watch'd her slightest look, 30
Discover'd soon her secret pain.
And soon that pain partook.
ST. GEORGE. 219
And when to him the fearful cause
She weeping did impart,
With kindest speech he strove to heal 35
The anguish of her heart.
Be comforted, my lady dear,
Those pearly drops refrain ;
Betide me w^eal, betide me woe,
I'll try to ease thy pain. 40
And for this foul and fearful dream,
That causeth all thy woe,
Trust me I'll travel far away
But I'll the meanino- knowe.
fc.
Then giving many a fond embrace, 45
And shedding many a teare,
To the weird lady of the woods -^
He purpos'd to repaire.
To the'weird lady of the woods, '"'"'^
Full long and many a day, 50
Thro' lonely shades, and thickets rough
He winds his weary way.
At length he reach'd a dreary dell
With dismal yews o'erhung ;
Where cypress spred it's mournful boughs, 55
And pois'nous nightshade sprung.
No chearful gleams here pierc'd the gloom,
He hears no chearful sound ;
But shrill night-ravens' yelling scream.
And serpents hissing round. 60
The shriek of fiends, and damned ghosts
Ran howling thro' his ear :
A chilhng horror froze his heart,
Tho' all unus'd to fear.
220 THE BIRTH OF
J
Three times he strives to win his way, 65
And pierce those sickly dews :
Three times to bear his trembHng corse
His knocking knees refuse.
At length upon his beating breast
He signs the holy crosse ; 70
And, rouzing up his wonted might,
He treads th' unhallow'd mosse. •
Beneath a pendant craggy cliff,
All vaulted like a grave.
And opening in the solid rock, / 75
He found the inchanted cave.
An iron gate clos'd up the mouth,
All hideous and forlorne ;
And, fasten'd by a silver chain,
Near huno- a brazed home. 80
&
Then offering up a secret prayer,
' Three times he blowes amaine :
Three times a deepe and hollow sound
Did answer him againe.
" Sir knight, thy lady beares a son, 85
" Who, like a dragon bright,
" Shall prove most dreadful to his foes,
" And terrible in fight.
" His name advanc'd in future times
" On banners shall be worn : 90
" But lo ! thy lady's life must passe
" Before he can be born."
All sore opprest with fear and doubt
Long time lord Albert stood ;
At length he winds his doubtful way 95
Back thro' the dreary wood.
ST. GEORGE. 221
Eager to clasp his lovely dame
Then fast he travels back :
But when he reach'd his castle gfate,
His gate was hung with black. 100
In every court and hall he found
A sullen silence reigne ;
Save where, amid the lonely towers,
He heard her maidens 'plaine ;
And bitterly lament and weep, 105
With many a grievous grone :
Then sore his bleeding heart misgave,
His lady's life was gone.
With faultering step he enters in,
Yet half affraid to goe ; no
With trembling voice asks why they grieve,
Yet fears the cause to knowe.
y Three -times the sun hath rose and set ;"
They said, then stopt to weep :
"Since heaven hath laid thy lady deare 115
"In death's eternal sleep.
" For, ah ! in travel sore she fell,
" So sore that she must dye ;
" Unless some shrewd and cunning leech
" Could ease her presentlye. no
" But when a cunning leech was fet,
" Too soon declared he,
" She, or her babe must lose its life ;
" Both saved could not be.
" Now take my life, thy lady said, 115
" My little infant save :
" And O commend me to my lord,
" When I am laid in grave.
222 THE BIRTH OF
" O tell him how that precious babe
"Cost him a tender wife : 130
" And teach my son to lisp her name,
" Who died to save his life.
" Then calling still upon thy name,
" And praying still for thee ;
"Without repining or complaint, 135
" Her Pfentle soul did flee."
What tongue can paint lord Albret's woe,
The bitter tears he shed.
The bitter pangs that wrung his heart,
To find his lady dead ? 140
He beat his breast : he tore his hair;
And shedding many a tear,
At length he askt to see his son ;
The son that cost so dear.
New sorrowe selz'd the damsells all : 145
At length they faultering say ;
*' Alas ! my lord, how shall we tell ?
" Thy son is stoln away.
" Fair as the sweetest flower of spring,
" Such was his infant mien : 150
" And on his little body stampt
J' Three wonderous marks were seen :
" A blood-red cross was on his arm ;
" A dragon on his breast :
" A little garter all of gold ^ 155
" Was round his leg exprest.
\
Three carefull nurses we provide
" Our little lord to keep :
" One gave him sucke, one gave him food,
" And one did lull to sleep. 160
ST. GEORGE. 223
" But lo ! all in the dead of night,
" We heard a fearful sound :
" Loud thunder clapt ; the castle shook ;
" And liorhtninor llasht around.
o o
" Dead with affright at first we lay ; 165
" But rousing up anon,
"We ran to see our little lord :
" Our little lord was gone !
" But how or where we could not tell ;
" For lying on the ground, / 170
" In deep and magic slumbers laid,
" The nurses there we found."
O Qrrief on orief ! lord Albret said :
No more his tongue cou'd say,
When falling in a deadly swoone, 175
Long time he lifeless lay.
At length restor'd to life and sense
He nourisht endless woe.
No future joy his heart could taste,
No future comfort know. 180
So withers on the mountain top
A fair and stately oake,
Whose vigorous arms are torne away,
By some rude thunder-stroke.
At length his castle irksome grew, 185
He loathes his wonted home ;
His native country he forsakes
In foreign lands to roame.
There up and downe he wandered lar.
Clad in a palmer's gown ; 190
Till his brown locks grew white as wool.
His beard as thistle down.
224
ST. GEORGE AND
At length, all wearied, down in death
He laid his reverend head.
Meantime amid the lonely wilds
His litttle son was bred.
195
There the weird lady of the woods
Had borne him far away,
And train'd him up in feates of armes,
And every martial play.
/
*
lOO
II.
ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON.
HE following ballad is given (with some corrections)
from two ancient black-letter copies in the Pepys Col-
lection: one of which is in i2mo., the other in folio.
[The story of St. George and the Dragon is found in many
forms in the northern languages.]
F Hector's deeds did Homer sing;
And of the sack of stately Troy,
What griefs fair Helena did bring.
Which was sir Paris' only joy :
And by my pen I will recite
St. George's deeds, and English knight.
Against the Sarazens so rude
Fought he full long and many a day ;
Where many gyants he subdu'd,
In honour of the christian way :
And after many adventures past
To Egypt land he came at last.
10
THE DRAGON. 225
Now, as the story plain doth tell,
Within that countrey there did rest
A dreadful dragon fierce and fell, is
Whereby they were full sore opprest ;
Who by his poisonous breath each day,
Did many of the city slay.
The Qrief whereof did orrow so ereat
Throughout the limits of the land, 20
That they their wise-men did intreat
To shew their cunning out of hand;
What way they might this fiend destroy,
That did the countrey thus annoy.
The wise-men all before the king 25
This answer fram'd incontinent;
The dragon none to death might bring
By any means they could invent :
His skin more hard than brass was found,
That sword nor spear could pierce nor wound. 30
When this the people understood,
They cryed out most piteouslye.
The dragon's breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they dye :
Among them such a plague it bred, 35
The living scarce could bury the dead.
No means there were, as they could hear.
Vox to appease the dragon's rage,
But to present some virgin clear,
Whose blood his fury might asswage ; 40
Each day he would a maiden cat,
F"or to allay his hunger groat.
This tiling by art the wise-men found.
Which truly must observed be ;
Wherefore throughout the city round 45
A virgin pure of good degree
3 Q
226 ST. GEORGE AND
Was by the king's commission still
Taken up to serve the dragon's will.
Thus did the dragon every day
Untimely crop some virgin flowr, 50
Till all the maids were worn away,
And none were left him to devour :
Saving the king's fair daughter bright,
Her father's only heart's delight.
Then came the officers to the king 55
That heavy message to declare,
Which did his heart with sorrow sting ;
She is, quoth he, my kingdom's heir :
O let us all be poisoned here.
Ere she should die, that is my dear. 60
Then rose the people presently.
And to the king in rage they went ;
They said his daughter dear should dye.
The dragon's fury to prevent:
Our daughters all are dead, quoth they, 65
And have been made the dragon's prey :
And by their blood we rescued were.
And thou hast sav'd thy life thereby ;
And now in sooth it is but faire.
For us thy daughter so should die. 70
O save my daughter, said the king ;
And let me feel the dragon's sting.
Then fell fair Sabra on her knee.
And to her father dear did say,
O father, strive not thus for me, 75
But let me be the dragon's prey ;
It may be, for my sake alone
This plague upon the land was thrown.
THE DRAGON. 227
TIs better I should dye, she said,
Than all your subjects perish quite ; 80
Perhaps the dragon here was laid,
For my oftence to work his spite :
And after he hath suckt my gore,
Your land shall feel the grief no more.
What hast thou done, my daughter dear, 85
For to deserve this heavy scourge ?
It is my fault, as may appear,
Which makes the gods our state to purge ;
Then ought I die, to stint the strife,
And to preserve thy happy life. 90
Like mad-men, all the people cried,
Thy death to us can do no good ;
Our safety only doth abide
In making- her the drao^on's food.
Lo ! here I am, I come, quoth she, 95
Therefore do what you will with me.
Nay stay, dear daughter, quoth the queen,
And as thou art a virgin bright.
That hast for vertue famous been,
So let me cloath thee all in white ; 100
And crown thy head with flowers sweet,
An ornament for virgins meet.
And when she was attired so.
According): to her mother's mind.
Unto the stake then did she go ; 105
To which her tender limbs they bind :
And being bound to stake a thrall
She bade farewell unto them all.
Farewell, my father dear, quoth she.
And my sweet mother meek and mild ; no
Take you no th(jught nor wcc]) for me,
For you may have another child :
228 ST. GEORGE AND
Since for my country's good I dye,
Death I receive most willinglye.
The king and queen and all their train us
With weeping eyes went then their way,
And let their daughter there remain,
To be the hungry dragon's prey :
But as she did there weeping lye,
Behold St. George came riding by. 120
And seeing there a lady bright
So rudely tyed unto a stake,
As well became a valiant knight.
He straight to her his way did take :
Tell me, sweet maiden, then quoth he, 125
What caitif thus abuseth thee ?
And, lo ! by Christ his cross I vow,
Which here is figured on my breast,
I will revenge it on his brow.
And break my lance upon his chest : 130
And speaking thus whereas he stood,
The dragon issued from the wood.
The lady that did first espy
The dreadful dragon coming so,
Unto St. George aloud did cry, 13s
And willed him away to go ;
Here comes that cursed fiend, quoth she;
That soon will make an end of me.
St. George then looking round about.
The fiery dragon soon espy'd, 140
And like a knight of courage stout,
Against him did most fiercely ride ;
And with such blows he did him greet,
He fell beneath his horse's feet.
THE DRAGON. 229
For with his launce that was so strong, 145
As he came gaping in his face,
In at his mouth he thrust along ;
For he could pierce no other place :
And thus within the lady's view
This mighty dragon straight he slew. 150
The savour of his poisoned breath
Could do this holy knight no harm.
Thus he the lady sav'd from death.
And home he led her by the arm ;
Which when king Ptolemy did see, 155
There was great mirth and melody.
When as that valiant champion there
Had slain the dragon in the field,
To court he brought the lady fair,
Which to their hearts much joy did yield. 1 60
He in the court of Egypt staid
Till he most falsely was betray'd.
That lady dearly lov'd the knight,
He counted her his only joy ; 165
But when their love was brought to light
It turn'd unto their great annoy :
Til' Morocco king was in the court.
Who to the orchard did resort,
Dayly to take the pleasant air, 170
For pleasure sake he us'd to walk.
Under a wall he oft did hear
St. George with lady Sabra talk :
Their love he shew'd unto the king,
Which to St. George great woe did bring. 175
Those kinors tocrether did devise
To make the christian knight away,
With letters him in curteous wise
They straightway sent to Persia :
230 ST. GEORGE AND
But wrote to the sophy him to kill, i8o
And treacherously his blood to spill.
Thus they for good did him reward
With evil, and most subtilly
By much vile meanes they had regard
To work his death most cruelly ; 185
Who, as through Persia land he rode,
With zeal destroy'd each idol god.
For which offence he straight was thrown
Into a dungeon dark and deep ;
Where, when he thought his wrongs upon, 190
He bitterly did wail and weep :
Yet like a knight of courage stout.
At length his way he digged out.
Three grooms of the king of Persia
By night this valiant champion slew, 195
Though he had fasted many a day ;
And then away from thence he flew
On the best steed the sophy had ;
Which when he knew he was full mad.
Towards Christendom he made his flight, 200
But met a gyant by the way,
With whom in combat he did fight •
Most valiantly a summer's day :
Who yet, for all his bats of steel,
Was forc'd the sting of death to feel. 205
Back o'er the seas with many bands
Of warlike souldiers soon he past.
Vowing upon those heathen lands
To work revenge ; which at the last.
Ere thrice three years were gone and spent, 210
He wrought unto his heart's content.
THE DRAGON. 231
Save onely Egypt land he spar'd
For Sabra bright her only sake,
And, ere for her he had regard,
He meant a tr}'al kind to make : 215
Mean while the kinor o'ercome in field
Unto saint George did quickly yield.
Then straight Morocco's kin"" he slew.
And took fair Sabra to his wife,
But meant to try if she were true 220
Ere with her he would lead his life :
And, tho' he had her in his train,
She did a virgin pure remain.
Toward England then that lovely dame
The brave St. George conducted strait, 225
An eunuch also with them came,
Who did upon the lady wait ;
These three from Egypt went alone.
Now roark St. George's valour shown.
When as they in a forest were, 230
The lady did desire to rest ;
Mean while St. George to kill a deer,
For their repast did think it best :
Leavincr her with the eunuch there,
Whilst he did go to kill the deer. 235
But lo ! all in his absence came
Two hungry lyons fierce and fell,
And tore the eunuch on the same
In pieces small, the truth to tell ;
Down by the lady then they laid, 240
Whereby they shew'd, she was a maid.
But when he came from hunting back,
And did behold this heavy chance.
Then fi)r his lovely virgin's sake
His courage strait he did advance, 245
232 LOVE WILL FIND
And came into the lions sight,
Who ran at him with all their might.
Their rage did him no whit dismay,
Who, like a stout and valiant knight,
Did both the hungry lyons slay 250
Within the lady Sabra's sight :
Who all this while sad and demure.
There stood most like a virgin pure.
Now when St. George did surely know
This lady was a virgin true, 255
His heart was glad, that erst was woe,
And all his love did soon renew :
He set her on a palfrey steed,
And towards England came with speed.
Where being in short space arriv'd 260
Unto his native dwelling-place;
Therein with his dear love he liv'd,
And fortune did his nuptials grace :
They many years of joy did see.
And led their lives at Coventry. 265
HI.
LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY.
HIS excellent song is ancient : but we could only give
it from a modern copy.
[Earlier editions of this spirited song are printed in
Evans's Old Ballads, iii. 282 (1810), and Rimbault's Little Book
of Songs and Ballads, p. 137. It is quoted in Brome's Sparagus
Garden, acted in 1635, and Shirley's Constant Maid y^a.?, republished
in 166 1, under the title o^ Love will find out the Way, by T. B.
Dr. Rimbault has the following note in his Musical Illustrations,
" The old black-letter copy of this ballad is called ' Truth's Integrity:
OUT THE WAY. 233
or, a atrious Northerne Ditty, called Love ^cillfinde out the Way. To
a pleasant new Tune Printed at London for F. Coules, dwelling in
the Old Bailey.' There is a second part consisting of six stanzas,
which Percy has not reprinted. The tune is here given (translated
from the Tablature) from Miisicks Recreation on the Lyra Viol, pub-
hshed by Playford in 1652. It is also preserved in Forbes's Cantiis,
1662 ; in Mustek's Delight on the Cithren, 1666 ; and in D'Urfey's
Pills to Purge Melancholy, 17 19. 'Y\\q. Pepysian Collection contains
several ballads to this tune."
Mr. Chappell writes, "The air is still current, for in the summer
of 1S55, Mr. Jennings, Organist of All Saints' Church, Maidstone,
noted it down from the wandering hop-pickers singing a song to
it on their entrance into that town." Popular Music, vol. i.
p. 304.]
^VER the mountains,
And over the waves ;
Under the fountains,
And under the graves ;
Under the floods that are deepest, 5
Which Neptune obey;
Over rocks that are steepest,
Love will find out the way.
Where there is no place
For the glow-worm to lye ; 10
Where there is no space
For receipt of a fly ;
Where the midge dares not venture,
Lest herself fast she lay ;
If love come, he will enter, 15
And soon find out his way.
You may esteem him
A child for his might;
Or you may deem him
A coward from his flight ; so
as
234 LORD THOMAS AND
But if she, whom love doth honour,
Be conceal'd from the day,
Set a thousand guards upon her,
Love will find out the way.
Some think to lose him,
By having him confin'd ;
And some do suppose him.
Poor thing, to be blind ;
But if ne'er so close ye wall him.
Do the best that you may, 30
Blind love, if so ye call him,
Will find out his way.
You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist ;
Or you may inveigle 35
The phenix of the east ;
The lioness, ye may move her
To give o'er her prey ;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover :
He will find out his way.
IV.
LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ANNET,
A Scottish Ballad,
^EEMS to be composed (not without improvements) out
of two ancient English ones, printed in the former part
of this volume. See book i. ballad xv. and book ii.
ballad iv. — If this had been the original, the authors of
those two ballads would hardly have adopted two such different
stories : besides, this contains enlargements not to be found in
either of the others. It is given with some corrections, from a
MS. copy transmitted from Scotland.
FAIR AN NET. 235
[Jamieson prints a version of this ballad which was taken do\vn
from the recitation of Mrs. W. Arrot of Aberbrothick, and is en-
titled Swcd Willie and Fair Annie. He contends that it is " pure
and entire," and expresses his opinion that the text of Percy's
copy had been " adjusted " previous to its leaving Scotland.]
tT-^
ORD Thomas and fair Annet
Sate a' day on a hill ;
;;p Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
^^ They had not talkt their fill.
Lord Thomas said a word in jest, 5
Fair Annet took it ill :
A' ! I will nevir wed a wife
Against my ain friends will.
Gif ye wuU nevir wed a wife,
A wife wuU neir wed yee. 10
Sae he is hame to tell his mither.
And knelt upon his knee :
O rede, O rede, mither, he says,
A gude rede gie to mee :
O sail I tak the nut-browne bride, 15
And let faire Annet bee ?
The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear.
Fair Annet she has gat nane ;
And the little beauty fair Annet has,
O it wull soon be ganc ! 20
And he has till his brother gane :
Now, brother, rede ye mee ;
A' sail I marrie the nut brownc bride,
And let fair Annet bee ?
236 LORD THOMAS AND
The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother, 25
The nut-browne bride has kye ;
I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
And cast fair Annet bye.
Her oxen may dye i' the house, Billie,
And her kye into the byre ; 30
And I sail hae nothing to my sell,
Bot a fat fadge^ by the fyre.
And he has till his sister gane :
Now, sister, rede ye mee ;
O sail I marrie the nut-browne bride, 35
And set fair Annet free ?
Ise rede ye tak fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the browne bride alane ;
Lest ye sould sigh and say, Alace !
What is this we brought hame ? 40
No, I will tak my mithers counsel,
And marrie me owt o' hand ;
And I will tak the nut-browne bride ;
Fair Annet may leive the land.
Up then rose fair Annets father 45
Twa hours or it wer day.
And he is gane into the bower.
Wherein fair Annet lay.
Rise up, rise up, fair Annet, he says.
Put on your silken sheene ; 50
Let us gae to St. Maries kirke.
And see that rich weddeen.
My maides, gae to my dressing roome,
And dress to me my hair ;
Whair-eir yee laid a plait before, 55
See yee lay ten times mair.
[' bundle of sticks.]
FAIR ANNET. 237
My maids, gae to my dressing room,
And dress to me my smock ;
The one half is o' the holland fine,
The other o' needle-work. 60
The horse fair Annet rade upon.
He amblit like the wind,
Wi' siller he was shod before,
\Vi' burninor crowd behind.
Four and twanty siller bells 65
Wer a' tyed till his mane,
And yae tift^ o' the norland wind,
They tinkled ane by ane.
Four and twanty gay gude knichts
Rade by the fair Annets side, 70
And four and twanty fair ladies,
As gin she had bin a bride.
And whan she cam to Maries kirk.
She- sat on Maries stean :
The cleading that fair Annet had on 75
It skinkled in their een.
And whan she cam into the kirk,
She shimmer'd like the sun ;
The belt that was about her waist,
Was a' wi' pearles bedone. 80
She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they wer sae clear.
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
Whan fair Annet she drew near.
He had a rose into his hand, 85
And he gave it kisses three.
And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annets knee
\} gust of wind.]
238 LORD THOMAS.
Up than spak the nut-browne bride,
She spak wi' meikle spite ; 90
And whair gat ye that rose-water,
That does mak yee sae white ?
O I did get the rose-water,
Whair ye wull neir get nane,
For I did get that very rose-water 95
Into my mithers wame.
The bride she drew a long bodkin,
Frae out her gay head-gear,
And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word she nevir spak mair. 100
Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee :
But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,
A' wood-wroth^ wexed hee.
He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, 105
That was sae sharp and meet,
And drave into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.
Now stay for me, dear Annet, he sed.
Now stay, my dear, he cry'd ; no
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell deid by her side.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',
Fair Annet within the quiere ;
And o' the tane thair grew a birk, 115
The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw.
As they wad faine be neare ;
And by this ye may ken right weil,
They ware twa luvers deare. 120
[^ furiously enraged.]
UNFADING BEAUTY.
239
V.
UNFADING BEAUTY.
'HIS little beautiful sonnet is reprinted from a small
volume of " Poems by Thomas Carciu, Esq. one of the
-_ gentlemen of the privie-chamber, and sewer in ordinary
^4*:^ to his majesty (Charles I.) Lond. 1640." This elegant,
and almost-forgotten writer, whose poems have been deservedly
revived, died in the prime of his age, in 1639.
In the original follows a third stanza ; which, not being of
general application, nor of equal merit, I have ventured to omit.
[Dr. Rimbault informs us that the original music was composed
by Henry Lawes, and is included in his Ayres and Dialogues for
one, two and three Fojces, 1653.]
;EE, that loves a rosic cheeke,
Or a corall lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seeke
Fuell to maintaine his fires,
As old time makes these decay.
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and stedfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calmc desires,
Hearts with equal love combin'd
Kindle never-dying fires :
Where these are not I despise
Lovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes.
*****
10
240 GEORGE BARNWELL.
VI.
GEORGE BARNWELL.
'HE subject of this ballad is sufficiently popular from
the modern play which is founded upon it. This was
written by Geoi-ge Lillo, a jeweller of London, and first
acted about 1730. — As for the ballad it was printed at
least as early as the middle of the last century.
It is here given from three old printed copies, which exhibit a
strange intermixture of Roman and black letter. It is also col-
lated with another copy in the Ashmole Collectmi at Oxford,
which is thus intitled, " An excellent ballad of George Barnwell, an
apprentice of London, who . . . thrice robbed his master and mur-
dered his uncle in Ludlow." The tune is The Merchant.
This tragical narrative seems to relate a real fact • but when it
happened I have not been able to discover.
[Ritson writes as follows concerning certain improvements made
by Percy in the following \iz}iSz.A{A7icietit Songs, 1829, vol. ii. p. 165,
note): — "Throughout this 'second part' (except in a single in-
stance) the metre of the first line of each stanza is in the old
editions lengthened by a couple of syllables, which are, occa-
sionally at least, a manifest interpolation. The person also is
for the most part changed from the first to the third, with evident
impropriety. Dr. Percy has very ingeniously restored the measure
by ejecting the superfluous syllables, and given consistency to the
whole by the restoration of the proper person \ and as it is now
highly improbable that any further ancient copy will be found, and
those which exist are manifestly corrupt, it seemed justifiable to
adopt the judicious emendations of this ingenious editor."
Dr. Rimbault observes, " This curious tune {The Menha7if)
which has been quite overlooked by antiquaries, is found, together
with the original ballad, The Merchant a?id the Fiddler's Wife, in
D'Urfey's Fills to Furge Melajicholy, vol. v. p. 77, edit. 17 19."
The former great popularity of the story of the wicked young
prentice is shown by James Smith's parody in the Rejected Ad-
dresses and Thackeray's caricature romance — George de Barnwell.']
GEORGE BARNWELL. 241
The First Part.
^^^LL youths of fair England
i^^^ That dwell both far and near,
Regard my story that I tell,
And to my song give ear.
A London lad I was, 5
A merchant's prentice bound ;
]\Iy name George Barnwell; that did spend
My master many a pound.
Take heed of harlots then,
And their enticing trains ; 10
For by that means I have been brought
To hancr alive in chains.
As I, upon a day,
Was walkinor throuQrh the street
About my master's business, 15
A wanton I did meet.
A gallant dainty dame,
And sumptuous in attire ;
With smiling look she greeted me,
And did my name require. 20
Which when I had declar'd,
She gave me then a kiss.
And said, if I would come to her,
I should have more than this.
r'air mistress, then quoth I, «5
If 1 the place may know,
This evening I will \m\ with you,
For I abroad must go
3 R
242 GEORGE BARNWELL.
To gather monies in,
That are my master's due : 30
And ere that I do home return,
I'll come and visit you.
Good Barnwell, then quoth she.
Do thou to Shoreditch come.
And ask for Mrs. Millwood's house, 35
Next door unto the Gun.
And trust me on my truth.
If thou keep touch with me.
My dearest friend, as my own heart
Thou shalt right welcome be. 40
Thus parted we in peace,
And home I passed right ;
Then went abroad, and gathered in,
By six o'clock at night,
An hundred pound and one : +5
With bag under my arm
I went to Mrs. Millwood's house.
And thought on little harm ;
And knocking at the door,
Straightway herself came down ; 50
Rustling in most brave attire,
With hood and silken gown.
Who, through her beauty bright.
So gloriously did shine,
That she amaz'd my dazzling eyes, 55
She seemed so divine.
She took me by the hand,
And with a modest grace,
Welcome, sweet Barnwell, then quoth she,
Unto this homely place. 60
GEORGE BARNWELL. 243
And since I have thee found
As good as thy word to be :
A homely supper, ere we part,
Thou shalt take here with me.
0 pardon me, quoth I, 65
Fair mistress, I you pray ;
For why, out of my master's house,
So long I dare not stay.
Alas, good Sir, she said,
Are you so strictly ty'd, 70
You may not with your dearest friend
One hour or two abide?
Faith, then the case is hard :
If it be so, quoth she,
1 would I were a prentice bound, 75
To live along with thee :
Therefore, my dearest George,
List well what I shall say.
And do not blame a woman much,
Her fancy to bewray. 80
Let not affection's force
Be counted lewd desire ;
Nor think it not immodesty,
I should thy love require.
With that she turn'd aside, 85
And with a blushing red,
A mournful motion she bewray'd
By hanging down her head.
A handkerchief she had.
All wrought with silk and gold : 90
Which she to stay her trickling tears
iJcfore her eyes did hold.
244 GEORGE BARNWELL.
This thing unto my sight
Was wondrous rare and strange ;
And in my soul and inward thought 95
It wrought a sudden change :
That I so hardy grew,
To take her by the hand :
Saying, Sweet mistress, why do you
So dull and pensive stand ? 100
Call me no mistress now.
But Sarah, thy true friend.
Thy servant, Millwood, honouring thee,
Until her life hath end.
If thou wouldst here alledge, 105
Thou art in years a boy ;
So was Adonis, yet was he
Fair Venus' only joy.
Thus I, who ne'er before
Of woman found such grace, no
But seeing now so fair a dame
Give me a kind embrace,
I supt with her that night,
With joys that did abound ;
And for the same paid presently, 115
In money twice three pound.
An hundred kisses then,
For my farewel she gave ;
Crying, Sweet Barnwell, when shall I
Again thy company have? 120
O stay not hence too long.
Sweet George, have me in mind.
Her words bewicht my childishness,
She uttered them so kind :
GEORGE BARNWELL. 245
So that I made a vow, 125
Next Sunday without fail,
With my sweet Sarah once again
To tell some pleasant tale.
When she heard me say so,
The tears fell from her eye ; 130
O George, quoth she, if thou dost fail.
Thy Sarah sure will dye.
Though long, yet loe ! at last,
The appointed day was come,
That I must with my Sarah meet ; 135
Having a mighty sum
Of money in my hand,*
Unto her house went I,
Whereas my love upon her bed
In saddest sort did lye. mo
What ails my heart's delight.
My Sarah dear ? quoth I ;
Let not my love lament and grieve,
Nor sighing pine, and die.
But tell me, dearest friend, 145
What may thy woes amend,
And thou shalt lack no means of help,
Though forty pound I spend.
With that she turn'd her head.
And sickly thus did say, 150
Oh me, sweet George, my grief is great.
Ten pound I have to pay
• The having a sum of money with him on Sunday, &c. shews
this narrative to have been jK-nned before the civil wars: the strict
observance of the sabbath was owing to the change of manners
at that period.
246 GEORGE BARNWELL.
Unto a cruel wretch ;
And God he knows, quoth she,
I have it not. Tush, rise, I said, 135
And take it here of me.
Ten pounds, nor ten times ten.
Shall make my love decay.
Then from my bag into her lap,
I cast ten pound straightway. 160
All blithe and pleasant then.
To banqueting we go ;
She proffered me to lye with her,
And said it should be so.
And after that same time, 165
I gave her store of coyn,
Yea, sometimes fifty pound at once ;
All which I did purloyn.
And thus I did pass on ;
Until my master then 170
Did call to have his reckoning in
Cast up among his men.
The which when as I heard,
I knew not what to say :
For well I knew that I was out 175
Two hundred pound that day.
Then from my master straight
I ran in secret sort ;
And unto Sarah Millwood there
My case I did report.
" But how she us'd this youth.
In this his care and woe,
And all a strumpet's wiley ways,
The SECOND TART may showe."
ISO
GEORGE BARNWELL. 247
The Second Part.
OUNG Barnwell comes to thee,
Sweet Sarah, my delight ;
I am undone unless thou stand
My faithful friend this night.
Our master to accompts, 5
Hath just occasion found ;
And I am caught behind the hand,
Above two hundred pound :
And now his wrath to 'scape,
My love, I fly to thee, 10
Hoping some time I may remaine
In safety here with thee.
With that she knit her brows,
And looking all aquoy,^
Quoth she, What should I have to do 15
With any prentice boy ?
And seeing you have purloyn'd
Your master's goods away.
The case is bad, and therefore here
You shall no longer stay. ao
Why, dear, thou knowst, I said.
How all which I could get,
I gave it, and did spend it all
Upon thee every whit.
Quoth she, Thou art a knave, 15
To charge me in this sort.
Being a woman of credit fair.
And known of good report :
[1 coy, shy.J
248 GEORGE BARNWELL.
Therefore I tell thee flat,
Be packing with good speed ; 3a
I do defie thee from my heart,
And scorn thy filthy deed.
Is this the friendship, that
You did to me protest?
Is this the great affection, which 35
You so to me exprest ?
Now fie on subtle shrews !
The best is, I may speed
To get a lodging any where,
For money in my need. 40
False woman, now farewell,
Whilst twenty pound doth last.
My anchor in some other haven
With freedom I will cast.
When she perceiv'd by this, 45
I had store of money there :
Stay, George, quoth she, thou art too quick :
Why, man, I did but jeer :
Dost think for all my speech,
That I would let thee go ? 50
Faith no, said she, my love to thee
I wiss is more than so.
You scorne a prentice boy,
I heard you just now swear.
Wherefore I will not trouble you. 55
Nay, George, hark in thine ear ;
Thou shalt not go to-night,
What chance so e're befall :
But man we'll have a bed for thee,
O else the devil take all. 60
GEORGE BARNWELL. 249
So I by wiles bewitcht,
And snar'd with fancy still,
Had then no power to 'get' away,
Or to withstand her will.
For wine on wine I call'd, 65
And cheer upon good cheer ;
And nothincr in the world I thought
For Sarah's love too dear.
70
Whilst in her company,
I had such merriment ;
All, all too little I did think,
That I upon her spent.
A fig for care and thought !
When all my gold is gone,
In faith, my girl, we will have more, 75
Whoever I light upon.
My .father's rich, why then
Should I want store of ofold ?
Nay with a father sure, quoth she,
A son may well make bold. 80
I've a sister richly wed,
I'll rob her ere I'll want.
Nay, then quoth Sarah, they may well
Consider of your scant.
Nay, I an uncle have; 85
At Ludlow he doth dwell :
He is a grazier, which in wealth
Doth all the rest excell.
Ere I will live in lack,
And have no coyn for thee : 90
I'll rob his house, and murder him.
Why should you not ^ quoth she :
250 GEORGE BARNWELL.
Was I a man, ere I
Would live in poor estate ;
On father, friends, and all my kin, 95
I would my talons grate.
For without money, George,
A man is but a beast :
But bringing money, thou shalt be
Always my welcome guest. 100
For shouldst thou be pursued
With twenty hues and cryes,
And with a warrant searched for
With Argus' hundred eyes,
Yet here thou shalt be safe ; 105
Such privy ways there be.
That if they sought an hundred years.
They could not find out thee.
And so carousing both
Their pleasures to content : no
George Barnwell had in little space
His money wholly spent.
Which done, to Ludlow straight
He did provide to go.
To rob his wealthy uncle there ; "S
His minion would it so.
And once he thought to take
His father by the way.
But that he fear'd his master had
Took order for his stay*. "o
Unto his uncle then
He rode with might and main,
Who with a welcome and good cheer.
Did Barnwell entertain.
* i.e. for stopping, and apprehending him at his father's.
GEORGE BARNWELL. 251
One fortnight's space he stayed, us
Until it chanced so,
His uncle with his cattle did
Unto a market go.
His kinsman rode with him,
Where he did see right plain, 1 3°
Great store of money he had took :
When coming home again,
Sudden within a wood.
He struck his uncle down,
And beat his brains out of his head ; 1 3s
So sore he crackt his crown.
Then seizing fourscore pound,
To London straight he hyed,
And unto Sarah Millwood all
The cruell fact descryed. ho
Tush, 'tis no matter, George,
So we the money have
To have good cheer in jolly sort,
And deck us fine and brave.
Thus lived in filthy sort, 145
Until their store was gone :
When means to get them any more,
I wis, poor George, had none.
Therefore in railing sort.
She thrust him out of door : 150
Which is the just reward of those,
Who spend upon a whore.
O ! do mc not disgrace
In this my need, quoth he.
She call'd him thief and murderer, 15s
With all the spight might be:
252 GEORGE BARNWELL,
To the constable she sent,
To have him apprehended ;
And shewed how far, in each degree,
He had the laws offended. 160
When Barnwell saw her drift,
To sea he got straightway ;
Where fear and sting of conscience
Continually on him lay.
Unto the lord mayor then, 165
He did a letter write ;
In which his own and Sarah's fault
He did at large recite.
Whereby she seized was.
And then to Ludlow sent : 170
Where she was judg'd, condemn'd, and hang'd.
For murder incontinent.
There dyed this gallant quean,
Such was her greatest gains :
For murder in Polonia, 17s
Was Barnwell hang'd in chains,
Lo ! here's the end of youth.
That after harlots haunt ;
Who in the spoil of other men,
About the streets do flaunt. 180
THE
STEDFAST SHEPHERD. 253
VII.
THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD.
-^^HESE beautiful stanzas were written by George Wither,
^;p of whom some account was given in the former part of
fS2^ this vokime ; see the song intitled, The Shcphcnfs
^A Resolution, book ii. song xxi. In the first edition of this
work only a small fragment of this sonnet was inserted. It was
afterwards rendered more compleat and intire by the addition of
five stanzas more, extracted from Wither's pastoral poem, intitled,
The Mistress of Fhi/arete, of which this song makes a part. It is
now given still more correct and perfect by comparing it with
another copy, printed by the author in his improved edition of
77ie Shephcnfs Hunting, 1620, 8vo.
[The Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 360) con-
tains only the fifth and .sixth stanzas slightly varied, which were
printed in the first edition of the Rcliques, with the title of The
Aspiring Shepherd. ~\
ENCE away, thou Syren, leave me,
Pish ! iinclaspe these wanton armes ;
Sugred words can ne'er deceive me,
(Though thou prove a thousand
charmes).
Fie, fie, forbeare ; 5
No common snare
Can ever my affection chaine :
Thy painted baits,
And poore deceits,
Are all bestowed on me in vaine. 10
I'mc no slave to such, as you be ;
Neither shall that snowy brest,
Rowling eye, and lip of ruby
Ever robb mc of my rest :
254 THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD.
Goe, go display 15
Thy beauties ray
To some more soone-enamour'd swaine ;
Those common wiles
Of sighs and smiles
Are all bestowed on me in vaine. 20
I have elsewhere vowed a dutie ;
Turne away thy tempting eye :
Shew not me a painted beautie ;
These impostures I defie :
My spirit lothes 15
Where gawdy clothes
And fained othes may love obtaine :
I love her so,
Whose looke sweares No ;
That all your labours will be vaine. 30
Can he prize the tainted posies,
Which on every brest are worne ;
That may plucke the virgin roses
From their never-touched thorne ?
I can goe rest 35
On her sweet brest,
That is the pride of Cynthia's trainc :
Then stay thy tongue ;
Thy mermaid song
Is all bestowed on me in vaine. 40
Hee's a foole, that basely dallies,
Where each peasant mates with him :
Shall I haunt the thronged vallies,
Whilst ther's noble hills to climbe ?
No, no, though clownes 45
Are scar'd with frownes,
I know the best can but disdaine ;
And those He prove :
So will thy love
Be all bestowed on me in vaine. 50
THE STEDFAST SHEPHERD. 255
I doe scorne to vow a dutie.
Where each lustfull lad may wooe :
Give me her, whose sun-like beautie
Buzzards dare not soar unto :
Shee, shee it is 55
Affoords that blisse
For which I would refuse no paine :
But such as you.
Fond fooles, adieu ;
You seeke to captive me in vaine. 60
Leave me then, you Syrens, leave me ;
Seeke no more to worke my harmcs :
Craftie wiles cannot deceive me,
Who am proofe against your charmes :
You labour may 65
To lead astray
The heart, that constant shall remaine :
And I the while
Will sit and smile
To see you spend your time in vaine. 70
VIII.
THE SPANISH VIRGIN, ok EFFECTS
OF JEALOUSY.
'HE subject of this ballad is taken from a folio collection
of tragical stories, inlitlod. The theatre of God's Judg-
ments, by Dr. Beard and Dr. Taylor, 1642. Pt. ii. p. 89.
— The text is given (with corrections) from two copies ;
one of them in black-letter in the Pcjiys collection. In this every
btanza is accompanied with the following distich by way of burden :
" Oh jealousie ! thou art nurst in hell :
Depart from hence, and therein dwell."
2 56 THE SPANISH VIRGIN,
;LL tender hearts, that ake to hear
Of those that suffer wrong ;
All you, that never shed a tear,
Give heed unto my song.
Fair Isabella's tragedy 5
My tale doth far exceed :
Alas ! that so much cruelty
In female hearts should breed!
In Spain a lady liv'd of late,
Who was of high degree ; lo
Whose wayward temper did create
Much woe and misery.
Strange jealousies so fill'd her head
With many a vain surmize.
She thought her lord had wrong'd her bed, 15
And did her love despise.
A gentlewoman passing fair
Did on this lady wait ;
With bravest dames she might compare ;
Her beauty was compleat. _ ao
Her lady cast a jealous eye
Upon this gentle maid ;
And taxt her with disloyaltye ;
And did her oft upbraid.
In silence still this maiden meek 25
Her bitter taunts would bear,
While oft adown her lovely cheek
Would steal the falling tear.
In vain in humble sort she strove
Her fury to disarm ; 30
As well the meekness of the dove
The bloody hawke might charm.
OR EFFECTS OF JEALOUSY. 257
Her lord of humour light and gay,
And innocent the while,
As oft as she came in his way, 35
Would on the damsell smile.
And oft before his lady's face.
As thinking her her friend,
He would the maiden's modest grace
And comeliness commend.
40
+5
All which incens'd his lady so
She burnt with wrath extreame ;
At length the fire that long did glow.
Burst forth into a flame.
For on a day it so befell,
When he was gone from home,
The lady all with rage did swell,
And to the damsell come.
And charorinor her with orreat offence,
And many a grievous fault ; 50
She bade her servants drag her thence,
Into a dismal vault.
That lay beneath the common-shore :
A dungeon dark and deep :
Wher(* they were wont, in days of yore, 55
Offenders great to keep.
There never light of chearful day
Dispers'd the hideous gloom ;
But dank and noisome vapours play
Around the wretched room : 60
And adders, snakes, and toads therein.
As aft('r\vards was known,
Long in this loathsome vault had bin,
And were to monsters grown.
3 s
258 THE SPANISH VIRGIN,
Into this foul and fearful place, 65
The fair one innocent
Was cast, before her lady's face ;
Her malice to content.
This maid no sooner enter'd is,
But strait, alas ! she hears 70
The toads to croak, and snakes to hiss :
Then grievously she fears.
Soon from their holes the vipers creep,
And fiercely her assail :
Which makes the damsel sorely weep, 75
And her sad fate bewail.
With her fair hands she strives in vain
Her body to defend :
With shrieks and cries she doth complain.
But all is to no end. 80
A servant listning near the door.
Struck with her doleful noise.
Strait ran his lady to implore ;
But she'll not hear his voice.
With bleeding heart he goes agen 85
To mark the maiden's groans ;
And plainly hears, within the den,
How she herself bemoans.
-Again he to his lady hies
With all the haste he may : 90
She into furious passion flies,
And orders him away.
Still back again does he return
To hear her tender cries ;
The virgin now had ceas'd to mourn ; 95
Which fill'd him with surprize.
OR EFFECTS OF J EALOUSY. 259
In grief, and horror, and affright,
He Hstens at the walls ;
But finding all was silent quite.
He to his lady calls. 100
Too sure, O lady, now quoth he,
Your cruelty hath sped ;
Make hast, for shame, and come and see ;
I fear the virgin's dead.
She starts to hear her sudden fate, 105
And does with torches run :
But all her haste was now too late.
For death his worst had done.
The door being open'd strait they found
The virgin stretch'd along
110
Two dreadful snakes had wrapt her round,
Which her to death had stuncf.
One round her legs, her thighs, her waist
Had twin'd his fatal wreath :
The other close her neck embrac'd, us
And stopt her gentle breath.
The snakes, being from her body thrust,
Their bellies were so fill'd.
That with excess of blood they burst.
Thus with their prey were kill'd. no
The wicked lady at this sight.
With horror strait ran mad ;
So raving dy'd, as was most right,
'Cause she no pity had.
Let me advise you, ladies all, 125
Of jealousy beware :
It causcth many a one to fall.
And is the devil's snare.
26o
JEALOUSY TYRANT.
IX.
JEALOUSY TYRANT OF THE MIND.
^
HIS Song is by Dryden, being inserted in his Tragi-
comedy of Love Triumphant, &c. — On account of
the subject it is inserted here.
HAT state of life can be so blest,
As love that warms the gentle brest ;
Two souls in one ; the same desire
To grant the bliss, and to require ?
If in this heaven a hell we find,
Tis all from thee,
O Jealousie !
Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind.
All other ills, though sharp they prove,
Serve to refine and perfect love :
In absence, or unkind disdaine.
Sweet hope relieves the lovers paine :
But, oh, no cure but death we find
To sett us free
From jealousie.
Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind.
False in thy glass all objects are,
Some sett too near, and some too far :
Thou art the fire of endless night.
The fire that burns, and gives no light.
All torments of the damn'd we find
In only thee,
O Jealousie ;
Thou tyrant, tyrant of the mind.
lO
IS
20
CONSTANT PENELOPE. 261
X.
CONSTANT PENELOPE.
'HE ladies are indebted for the following notable docu-
ments to the Pepys collection, where the original is
preserved in black-letter, and is intitled, A looking-
glass for ladies, or a mirroiir for fnarried women. Tune
Queen Dido, or Troy town.
HEN Greeks and Trojans fell at strife,
And lords in armour bright were seen ;
When many a gallant lost his life
About fair Hellen, beauty's queen;
Ulysses, general so free, 5
Did leave his dear Penelope.
When she this wofull news did hear,
That he would to the warrs of Troy ;
For grief she shed full many a tear,
At parting from her only joy ; 10
Her ladies all about her came.
To comfort up this Grecian dame.
Ulysses, with a heavy heart,
Unto her then did mildly say,
The time is come that we must part ; 15
My honour calls me hence away ;
Yet in my absence, dearest, be
My constant wife, Penelope.
Let me no longer live, she sayd,
Then to my lord I true remain ; 20
My honour shall not be bctray'd
Until I sec my love again ;
For I will ever constant prove,
As is the loyal turtle-dove.
262 CONSTANT PENELOPE.
Thus did they part with heavy chear, as
And to the ships his way he took ;
Her tender eyes dropt many a tear ;
Still casting many a longing look :
She saw him on the surges glide,
And unto Neptune thus she cry'd : 30
Thou god, whose power is in the deep,
And rulest in the ocean main,
My loving lord in safety keep
Till he return to me again :
That I his person may behold, 35
To me more precious far than gold.
Then straight the ships with nimble sails
Were all convey'd out of her sight :
Her cruel fate she then bewails.
Since she had lost her hearts delight. 40
Now shall my practice be, quoth she,
True vertue and humility.
My patience I will put in ure,^
My charity I will extend ;
Since for my woe there is no cure, 45
The helpless now I will befriend :
The widow and the fatherless
I will relieve, when in distress.
Thus she continued year by year
In doing good to every one ; 5°
Her fame was noised every where.
To young and old the same was known,
That she no company would mind,
Who were to vanity inclin'd.
S} use.]
CONSTANT PENELOPE. 263
Mean while Ulysses fought for fame, 55
'Mongst Trojans hazarding his life :
Yountr o-allants, hearinof of her name,
Came (locking for to tempt his wife :
For she was lovely, young, and fair,
No lady might with her compare. 60
With costly gifts and jewels fine,
They did endeavour her to win ;
With banquets and the choicest wine,
For to allure her unto sin :
Most persons were of high degree, 65
Who courted fair Penelope.
With modesty and comely grace,
Their wanton suits she did denye ;
No tempting charms could e'er deface
Her dearest husband's memorye ; 70
But constant she would still remain,
Hopeing to see him once again.
Her book her dayly comfort was.
And that she often did peruse ;
She seldom looked in her glass ; 75
Powder and paint she ne'er would use.
I wish all ladies were as free
From pride, as was Penelope.
She in her needle took delight.
And likewise in her spinning-wheel ; 80
Her maids about her every night
Did use the distaff, and the reel :
The spiders, that on rafters twine.
Scarce spin a thread more soft and fine.
Sometimes she would bewail the loss 85
And absence of her dearest love :
Sometimes she thought the seas to cross,
Her fortune on the waves to prove.
264 CONSTANT PENELOPE. ■
I fear my lord is slain, quoth she,
He stays so from Penelope. 90
At length the ten years siege of Troy
Did end : in flames the city burn'd ;
And to the Grecians was great joy.
To see the towers to ashes turn'd :
Then came Ulysses home to see 95
His constant, dear, Penelope.
O blame her not if she was glad,
When she her lord again had seen.
Thrice-welcome home, my dear, she said,
A long time absent thou hast been : 100
The wars shall never more deprive
Me of my lord whilst I'm alive.
Fair ladies all example take ;
And hence a worthy lesson learn,
All youthful follies to forsake, 105
And vice from virtue to discern :
And let all women strive to be,
As constant as Penelope.
XL
TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE
WARS.
Y Col. Richard Lovelace : from the volume of his
poems, intitled Lucasta, (Lond. 1649. izmo.). The
elegance of this writer's manner would be more admired,
if it had somewhat more of simphcity.
[Percy's admirers would be glad to expunge the above unjust
judgment. Some of Lovelace's poems may be affected, but that
charge cannot be brought against these exquisite verses, the last
two of which have become a world-famed quotation.]
TO LU CASTA. 265
^^^''^^ELL me not, sweet, I am unkinde,
That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde,
To warre and armes I the.
True, a new mistresse now I chase, s
The first foe in the field ;
And with a strons^er faith imbrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you too shall adore ; 10
I could not love thee, deare, so much,
Lov'd I not honour more.
XII.
VALENTINE AND URSINE.
'HE old story-book of Valentine and Orson (which sug-
gested the plan of this tale, but it is not strictly fol-
lowed in it) was originally a translation from the
French, being one of their earliest attempts at ro-
mance. See Le Bibliothhjuc de Rovuins, ^'c.
The circumstance of the bridge of bells is taken from the old
metrical legend of Sir Bevis, and has also been copied in the
Seven Champions. The original lines are,
" Over the dyke a bridge there lay.
That man and beest might passe away :
Under the brydge were sixty belles ;
Right as the Romans telles ;
That there might no man passe in.
But all they rang wth a gyn."
Sign. E. iv.
In the Editor's folio MS. was an old poem on this subject, in a
wretched corrupt state, unworthy the press: from which were
taken such particulars as could be adopted.
266 VALENTINE AND URSINE.
[The poem entitled The Empcrour and the Childe in the Folio
MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 390) only suggested the
subject of the present ballad. It commences—
Within the Grecyan land some time did dwell
an Emperour, whose name did ftar excell ;
he tooke to wiffe the lady B[e]llefaunt,
the only sister to the kinge of ffrance,
with whome he liued in pleasure and delight
vntill that ffortune came to worke them spighte.
There are no particular signs of " corruption," and the piece is
probably superior to Percy's own effusion.
Percy's trumpery commencement is an echo of the beginning
of the printed copies of Si7- Andi-etu Barton.
The name Ursine, like that of Orson, is derived from Fr. Ourson,
the diminutive of Ours, a bear (Latin, ursus.)~\
Part the First.
,f^asc^^> HEN Flora 'gins to decke the fields
With colours fresh and fine,
Then holy clerkes their mattins sing
To good Saint Valentine !
The king of France that morning fair 5
He would a hunting ride :
To Artois forest prancing forth
In all his princelye pride.
To grace his sports a courtly train
Of gallant peers attend ; 10
And with their loud and cheerful cryes
The hills and valleys rend.
Through the deep forest swift they pass,
Through woods and thickets wild ;
When down within a lonely dell 15
They found a new-born child ;
VALENTINE AND URSINE. 267
All in a scarlet kercher lay'd
Of silk so fine and thin :
A golden mantle wrapt him round
Pinn'd with a silver pin. ' 20
The sudden sight surpriz'd them all ;
The courtiers gather'd round ;
They look, they call, the mother seek ;
No mother could be found.
At length the king himself drew near, 25
And as he gazing stands,
The pretty babe look'd up and smil'd.
And stretch'd his little hands.
Now, by the rood, king Pepin says,
This child is passing fair : 30
I wot he is of gentle blood ;
Perhaps some prince's heir.
Goe bear him home unto my court
With all the care ye may :
Let him be christen'd Valentine, 35
In honour of this day :
And look me out some cunning nurse ;
Well nurtured let him bee;
Nor ought be wanting that becomes
A bairn of hi<di deofree. 40
They look'd him out a cunning nurse ;
And nurtur'd well was hee ;
Nor oui^ht was wantin<»; that became
A bairn of hii/h de</ree.
Thus grewe the little Valentine 45
Pjelov'd of king and peers ;
And shew'd in all he spake or did
A w it beyond his years.
268 VALENTINE AND URSINE.
But chief in gallant feates of arms
He did himself advance, 50
That ere he grewe to man's estate
He had no peere in France.
And now the early downe began
To shade his youthful chin ;
When Valentine was dubb'd a knight, 55
That he might glory win.
A boon, a boon, my gracious liege,
I beg a boon of thee !
The first adventure, that befalls,
May be reserv'd for mee. 60
The first adventure shall be thine ;
The king did smiling say.
Nor many days, when lo ! there came
Three palmers clad in graye.
Help, gracious lord, they weeping say'd ; 65
And knelt, as it was meet :
From Artoys forest we be come.
With weak and wearye feet.
W^ithin those deep and drearye woods
There wends a savage boy ; 70
Whose fierce and mortal rage doth yield
Thy subjects dire annoy.
'Mone ruthless beares he sure was bred ;
He lurks within their den :
With beares he hves; with beares he feeds ; 75
And drinks the blood of men.
To more than savage strength he joins
A more than human skill :
For arms, ne cunning may suffice
His cruel rage to still : 80
VALENTINE AND URSINE. 269
Up then rose sir Valentine,
And claim'd that arduous deed.
Go forth and conquer, say'd the king,
And great shall be thy meed.
Well mounted on a milk-white steed, 85
His armour white as snow ;
As well beseem'd a virgin knight,
Who ne'er had fought a foe ;
To Artoys forest he repairs
With all the haste he may ; 90
And soon he spies the savage youth
A rending of his prey.
His unkempt hair all matted hung
His shaggy shoulders round :
His eager eye all fiery glow'd : 95
His face with fury frown'd.
Like eagles' talons grew his nails :
His limbs were thick and strong ;
And dreadful was the knotted oak
He bare with him along. 100
Soon as sir Valentine approach'd,
He starts with sudden spring;
And yelling forth a hideous howl,
He made the forests ring.
As when a tyger fierce and fell 105
Hath spyed a passing roe,
And leaps at once upon his throat ;
So sprung the savage foe ;
So lightly leap'd with furious force
The gentle knight to seize : no
But mc^t his tall uplifted spear,
Which sunk him on his knees.
270 VALENTINE AND URSINE.
A second stroke so stiff and stern
Had laid the savage low ;
But springing up, he rais'd his club, us
And aim'd a dreadful blow.
The watchful warrior bent his head,
And shun'd the coming stroke ;
Upon his taper spear it fell,
And all to shivers broke. 120
Then lighting nimbly from his steed,
He drew his burnisht brand :
The savage quick as lightning flew
To wrest it from his hand.
Three times he grasp'd the silver hilt ; 125
Three times he felt the blade ;
Three times it fell with furious force ;
Three ghastly wounds it made.
Now with redoubled rage he roared ;
His eye-ball flash'd with fire ; 130
Each hairy limb with fury shook ;
And all his heart was ire.
Then closing fast with furious gripe
He clasp'd the champion round,
And with a strong and sudden twist 135
He laid him on the ground.
But soon the knight, with active spring,
O'erturn'd his hairy foe :
And now between their sturdy fists
Past many a bruising blow. 140
They roll'd and grappled on the ground,
And there they struggled long :
Skilful and active was the knight ;
The savage he was strong.
VALENTINE AND
URSINE. 271
But brutal force and savacfe strenfrth
To art and skill must yield :
Sir Valentine at lenoth prevail'd,
And won the well-fouoht held.
Then binding strait his conquer'd foe
Fast with an iron chain,
He tyes him to his horse's tail,
And leads him o'er the plain.
To court his hair)- captive soon
Sir Valentine doth brine ;
And kneeling downe upon his knee.
Presents him to the kine.
With loss of blood and loss of strength,
The savage tamer grew ;
And to sir Valentine became
A servant try'd and true.
And 'cause with beares he erst was bred,
Ursine they call his name ;
A name which unto future times
The Muses shall proclame.
»+s
150
Jf5
160
Part the Second.
X high renown with prince and pcere
Now liv'd sir Valentine :
His high renown with prince and pecre
Made envious hearts repine.
It chanc'd the king upon a day
Prepar'd a sumjjtuous feast :
And there came h^rds, and dainty dames,
And many a noble guest.
272 VALENTINE AND URSINE.
Amid their cups, that freely flow'd,
Their revelry, and mirth ; lo
A youthful knight tax'd Valentine
Of base and doubtful birth.
The foul reproach, so grossly urg'd,
His generous heart did wound :
And strait he vow'd he ne'er would rest i s
Till he his parents found.
Then bidding king and peers adieu,
Early one summer's day,
With faithful Ursine by his side,
From court he took his way. 20
O'er hill and valley, moss and moor,
For many a day they pass ;
At length upon a moated lake,
They found a bridge of brass.
Beyond it rose a castle fair 25
Y-built of marble stone :
The battlements were gilt with gold.
And glittred in the sun.
Beneath the bridge, with strange device,
A hundred bells were hung ; 30
That man, nor beast, might pass thereon,
But strait their larum rung.
This quickly found the youthful pair.
Who boldly crossing o'er,
The jangling sound bedeaft their ears, 35
And rung from shore to shore.
Quick at the sound the castle gates
Unlock'd and opened wide.
And strait a gyant huge and grim
Stalk'd forth with stately pride. 4°
Ver. 23. i.e. a lake that served for a moat to a castle.
VALENTINE AND URSINE. 273
Now yield you, caytifts, to my will ;
He cried with hideous roar;
Or else the wolves shall eat your flesh,
And ravens drink your gore.
Vain boaster, said the youthful knight, 45
I scorn thy threats and thee :
I trust to force thy brazen gates,
And set thy captives free.
Then putting spurs unto his steed,
He aim'd a dreadful thrust : so
The spear against the gyant glanc'd,
And caus'd the blood to burst.
Mad and outrageous with the pain.
He whirl'd his mace of steel :
The very wind of such a blow 55
Had made the champion reel.
It haply mist ; and now the knight
His glittering sword display'd,
And riding round with whirlwind speed
Oft made him feel the blade. 60
As when a larcre and monstrous oak
Unceasing axes hew :
So fast around the gyant's limbs
The blows quick-darting flew.
As when the boughs with hideous fall 65
Some hapless woodman crush :
With such a force the enormous foe
Did on the champion rush.
A fearful blow, alas ! there came,
Ijoth horse and knight it took, 70
And laid them senseless in the dust;
So fatal was the strcjke.
3 T
2 74 VALENTINE AND URSINE.
Then smiling forth a hideous grin,
The gyant strides in haste,
And, stooping, aims a second stroke : 75
" Now caytiff breathe thy last ! "
But ere it fell, two thundering blows
Upon his scull descend :
From Ursine's knotty club they came,
Who ran to save his friend. 80
Down sunk the gyant gaping wide,
And rolling his grim eyes :
The hairy youth repeats his blows :
He gasps, he groans, he dies.
Quickly sir Valentine reviv'd 85
- With Ursine's timely care :
And now to search the castle walls
The venturous youths repair.
The blood and bones of murder'd knigfhts
They found where'er they came : 90
At length within a lonely cell
They saw a mournful dame.
Her gentle eyes were dim'd with tears ;
Her cheeks were pale with woe :
And long sir Valentine besought 95
Her doleful tale to know.
*' Alas ! young knight," she weeping said,
" Condole my wretched fate :
A childless mother here you see ;
A wife without a mate. 100
" These twenty winters here forlorn
I've drawn my hated breath ;
Sole witness of a monster's crimes.
And wishing aye for death.
VALENTINE AND URSINE. 275
" Know, I am sister of a king; 105
And in my early years
Was married to a mighty prince,
The fairest of his peers.
"With him I sweetly Hv'd in love
A twelvemonth and a day : no
When, lo ! a foul and treacherous priest
Y-wrought our loves' decay.
" His seeming goodness wan him pow'r ;
He had his master's ear :
And long to me and all the world 115
He did a saint appear.
" One day, when we were all alone,
He proffer'd odious love :
The wretch with horrour I repuls'd,
And from my presence drove. no
" He feign'd remorse, and piteous beg d
His crime I'd not reveal :
Which, for his seeming penitence,
I promis'd to conceal.
" With treason, villainy, and wrong 125
My goodness he repay'd :
With jealous doubts he fill'd my lord,
And me to woe betray'd.
" He hid a slave within my bed.
Then rais'd a bitter cry. 130
My lord, possest with rage, condemn'd
Me, all unheard, to dye.
" Hut 'cause I then was great with child,
At length my life he spar'd ;
But bade me instant ([uit tlie realme, 13s
One trusty knight my guard.
2 76 VALENTINE AND URSINE.
" Forth on my journey I depart,
Opprest with grief and woe ;
And tow'rds my brother's distant court,
With breaking heart, I goe. 14-0
" Long time thro' sundry foreign lands
We slowly pace along :
At length within a forest wild
I fell in labour strong :
" And while the knight for succour sought, 14-5
And left me there forlorn,
My childbed pains so fast increast
Two lovely boys were born.
" The eldest fair, and smooth, as snow
That tips the mountain hoar : 150
The younger's little body rough
With hairs was cover'd o'er.
" But here afresh begin my woes :
While tender care I took
To shield my eldest from the cold, 155
And wrap him in my cloak ;
*' A prowling bear burst from the wood,
And seiz'd my younger son :
Affection lent my weakness wings,
And after them I run. 160
" But all forewearied, weak and spent,
I quickly swoon'd away ;
And there beneath the greenwood shade
Long time I lifeless lay.
" At length the knight brought me relief, 165
And rais'd me from the ground :
But neither of my pretty babes
Could ever more be found.
VALENTINE AND URSINE. 277
" And, while in search we wander'd far,
We met that gyant grim ; 170
Who ruthless slew my trusty knight,
And bare me off with him.
" But charm'd by heav'n, or else my griefs,
He offer'd me no wrong ;
Save that within these lonely walls 17s
I've been immur'd so long."
Now, surely, said the youthful knight,
You are lady Bellisance,
Wife to the Grecian emperor :
Your brother's king of France. 180
For in your royal brother's court
Myself my breeding had ;
Where oft the story of your woes
Hath made my bosom sad.
If so, know your accuser's dead, 185
And dying own'd his crime ;
And long your lord hath sought you out
Thro' every foreign clime.
And when no tidings he could learn
Of his much-wronged wife, 190
He vow'd thenceforth within his court
To lead a hermit's life.
Now heaven is kind ! the lady said ;
And dropt a joyful tear :
Shall I once more behold my lord ? 195
That lord I love so dear?
But, madam, said sir Valentine,
And knelt ujion his knee ;
Know you the cU^ak that wrapt your babe,
If you the same should see .■* aoo
2 78 VALENTINE AND URSINE.
And pulling forth the cloth of gold,
In which himself was found ;
The lady gave a sudden shriek,
And fainted on the ground.
But by his pious care reviv'd, 205
His tale she heard anon ;
And soon by other tokens found,
He was indeed her son.
But who's this hairy youth ? she said ;
He much resembles thee : aio
The bear devour'd my younger son.
Or sure that son were he.
Madam, this youth with bears was bred,
And rear'd within their den.
But recollect ye any mark 215
To know you son agen ?
Upon his little side, quoth she,
Was stampt a bloody rose.
Here, lady, see the crimson mark
Upon his body grows ! 220
Then clasping both her new-found sons
She bath'd their cheeks with tears ;
And soon towards her brother's court
Her joyful course she steers.
What pen can paint king Pepin's joy, 225
His sister thus restor'd !
And soon a messenger was sent
To cheer her drooping lord :
Who came in haste with all his peers.
To fetch her home to Greece ; 230
Where many happy years they reign'd
In perfect love and peace.
VALENTINE AND URSINE. 279
To them sir Ursine did succeed,
And long the scepter bare.
Sir Valentine he stay'd in France, 435
And was his uncle's heir.
*
XIII.
THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY.
'HIS humourous song (as a former Editor* has well ob-
served) is to old metrical romances and ballads of
chivalry, what Don Quixote is to prose narratives of
that kind: — a lively satire on their extravagant fictions.
But altho' the satire is thus general, the subject of this ballad is
local and peculiar : so that many of the finest strokes of humour
are lost for want of our knowing the minute circumstances to
which they allude. Many of them can hardly now be recovered,
altho' we have been fortunate enough to learn the general subject
to which the .satire referred, and shall detail the information, with
which we have been favoured, at the end of this introduction.
In handling his subject, the Author has brought in most of
the common incidents which occur in romance. The description
of the dragon t — his outrages — the people flying to the kniglit
for succour — his care in chusing his armour — his being drest for
fight by a young damsel — and most of the circumstances of the
battle and victory (allowing for the burles(|ue turn given to them)
are what occur in every book of chivalry, whether in prose or
verse.
If any one piece, more than other, is more particularly levelled
at, it seems to be the old rhiming legend of sir Hevis. There a
Dragon is attacked from a Well in a manner not very remote from
this of the ballad: —
There was a well, so have I W3mne,
And Bevis stumbled ryght therein.
* * * ♦
Than was he glad without fayle,
And rested a whyle for his avayle ;
* Collection of Historical Ballads in 3 vol. 1727.
t See above, pp. 108, 216.
28o THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY.
And dranke of that water his fyll ;
And then he lepte out, with good wyll,
■ And with Morglay his brande
He assayled the dragon, I understande :
On the dragon he smote so faste.
Where that he hit the scales braste :
The dragon then faynted sore,
And cast a galon and more
Out of his mouthe of venim strong,
And on syr Bevis he it flong:
It was venymous y-wis.
This seems to be meant by the Dragon of Wantley's stink,
ver. no. As the poHtick knight's creeping out, and attacking the
dragon, &c. seems evidently to allude to the following :
Bevis blessed himselfe and forth yode,
And lepte out with haste full good ;
And Bevis unto the dragon gone is ;
And the dragon also to Bevis.
Longe, and harde was that fyght
Betwene the dragon, and that knyght :
But ever whan syr Bevis was hurt sore,
He went to the well, and washed him thore ;
He was as hole as any man,
Ever freshe as whan he began.
The dragon sawe it might not avayle
Besyde the well to hold batayle ;
He thought he would, wyth some wyle,
Out of that place Bevis begyle ;
He woulde have flowen then awaye,
But Bevis lepte after with good Morglaye,
And hyt him under the wynge,
As he was in his flyenge, &c.
Sign. M. jv. L. j. &c.
After all, perhaps the writer of this ballad was acquainted with
the above incidents only thro' the medium of Spenser, who has
assumed most of them in his Faery Queen. At least some parti-
culars in the description of the Dragon, &c. seem evidently bor-
rowed from the latter. See book i. canto ii, where the Dragon's
" two wynges like sayls — huge long tayl — with stings — his cruel
rending clawes — and yron teeth — his breath of smothering smoke
and sulphur " — and the duration of the fight for upwards of two
days, bear a great resemblance to passages in the following ballad ;
though it must be confessed that these particulars are common to
all old writers of romance.
THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 281
Altho' this ballad must have been ^\Titten early in the last
century, we have met with none but such as were comparatively
modern copies. It is here printed from one in Roman letter,
in the Pepys collection, collated with such others as could be
procured.
A description of the supposed scene of this ballad, which was
communicated to the Editor in 1767, is here given in the words
of the relater : —
" In Yorkshire, 6 miles from Rotherliam, is a village, called
Worthy, the seat of the late JVortky Montague, Esq. About a
mile from this village is a lodge, named Warncliff Lodge, but
vulgarly called IVant/ey : here lies the scene of the song. I was
there about forty years ago : and it being a woody rocky place,
my friend made me clamber over rocks and stones, not telling me
to what end, till I came to a sort of a cave ; then asked my
opinion of the place, and pointing to one end, says, Here lay the
dragon killed by Moor of Moor-/iail : here lay his head; here
lay his tail ; and the stones we came over on the hill, are those he
could not crack ; and yon white house you see half a mile olT, is
Moor-halL I had dined at the lodge, and knew the man's name
was Matthew, who was a keeper to Mr. Wortley, and, as he en-
deavoured to persuade me, was the same Matthew mentioned in
the song : In the house is the picture of the Dragon and Moor of
Moor-hall, and near it a well, which, says he, is the well described
in the ballad."
Since the former editions of this humorous old song were printed,
the following Key to the Satire hath been communicated by God-
frey Bosville, Esq. of Thorp, near Malton, in Yorkshire; who, in
the most obliging manner, gave full permission to adjoin it to the
poem.
Warnclijfe Lodge, and Warneliffe Wood (vulgarly pronounced
Wantley), are in the parish of Penniston, in Yorkshire. The
rectory of Penniston was part of the dissolved monastery of
St. Stephen's, Westminster; and was granted to the Duke of
Norfolk's family : who therewith endowed an hosjjital, which he
built at Sheffield, for women. The trustees let the impropriation
of the great Tythes of Penniston to the Wortley family, who got a
great deal by it, and wanted to get still more; for Mr. Nicholas
VV^ortley attempted to take the tythes in kind, but Mr. Francis
Bosville opposed him, and there was a decree in favour of the
Modus in 37th KHz. The vicarage of Penniston did not go along
with the rectory, but with the cojjyhold rents, and was part of a
"large purchase made by Raljjh IJosville, Kscj. from Qu. Elizabeth,
in the 2d year of her reign: and that part he sold in 12th Eliz. to
his elder brother (Godfrey, the father of Francis ; who left it, with
the rest of his estate, to his wife, for her life, and then to Raij)!!,
282 THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY.
3d son of his uncle Ralph. The widow married Lyonel Rowle-
stone, lived eighteen years, and survived Ralph.
This premised, the ballad apparently relates to the law-suit
carried on concerning this claim of tythes made by the Wortley
family. " Houses and churches, were to him geese and turkeys : "
which are tytheable things, the dragon chose to live on. Sir
Francis Wortley, the son of Nicholas, attempted again to take
the tythes in kind : but the parishioners subscribed an agreement
to defend their Modus. And at the head of the agreement was
Lyonel Rowlestone, who is supposed to be one of " the Stones,
dear Jack, which the Dragon could not crack." The agreement
is still preserved in a large sheet of parchment, dated ist of James I.,
and is full of names and seals, which might be meant by the coat
of armour, " with spikes all about, both within and without."
More of More-hall was either the attorney, or counsellor, who
conducted the suit. He is not distinctly remembered, but More-
hall is still extant at the very bottom of Wandey [Warnclifif]
Wood, and lies so low, that it might be said to be in a well : as
the dragon's den [Warncliff Lodge] was at the top of the wood,
" with Matthew's house hard by it." The keepers belonging to
the Wortley family were named, for many generations, Matthew
Northall : the last of them left this lodge, within memory, to be
keeper to the Duke of Norfolk. The present owner of More-hall
still attends Mr. Bosville's Manor-Court at Oxspring, and pays a
rose a year. " More of More-hall, with nothing at all, slew the
Dragon of Wantley." He gave him, instead of tythes, so small a
Modus, that it was in eftect nothing at all, and was slaying him
with a vengeance. " The poor children three," &c. cannot surely
mean the three sisters of Francis Bosville, who would have been
coheiresses, had he made no will ? The late Mr. Bosville had a
contest with the descendants of two of them, the late Sir Geo.
Saville's father, and Mr. Copley, about the presentation to Pen-
niston, they supposing Francis had not the power to give this part
of the estate from the heirs at law; but it was decided against
them. The dragon (Sir Francis Wortley) succeeded better with
his cousin Wordesworth, the freehold lord of the manor (for it is
the copyhold manor that belongs to Mr. Bosville) having per-
suaded him not to join the refractory parishioners, under a pro-
mise that he would let him his tythes cheap : and now the estates
of Wortley and Wordesworth are the only lands that pay tythes in
the parish.
N.B. "Two days and a night," mentioned in ver. 125, as the
duration of the combat, was probably that of the trial at law.
[In Cough's edidon of Camden's Britannia we learn that " Sir
Thomas Wortley, who was knight of the body to Edward IV.,
THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 283
Richard III., Henry VII, and VIII., built a lodge in his chace
of Wamcliffe, and had a house and park there, disi^arked in the
Civil War."
Mr. GilfiUan has the following note in his edition of the RcUqucs,
" A legend current in the Wortley family states the dragon to have
been a formidable drinker, drunk dead by the chieftain of the oppo-
site moors. Ellis thinks it was a wolf or some other fierce animal
hunted down by More of More-hall." A writer in the Notes ami
Queries (3rd S. ix. 29), who signs himself " Fitzhopkins," expresses
his disbelief in the above explanation communicated to Percy by
Godfrey Bosville.J
LD Stories tell how Hercules
A dragon slew at Lerna,
With seven heads, and fourteen eyes,
To see and well discern-a :
But he had a club, this dragon to drub.
Or he had ne'er done it, I warrant ye :
But More of More-Hall, with nothing at all.
He slew the dragon of Wantley.
This dragon had two furious wings,
Each one upon each shoulder ; 10
With a sting in his tayl as long as a flayl,
Which made him bolder and bolder.
He had long claws, and in his jaws
Four and forty teeth of iron ;
With a hide as tough, as any buff, is
Which did him round environ.
Have you not heard how the Trojan horse
Held seventy men in his belly ^
This dragon was not cjuite so big,
But very near, I'll tell ye. 20
Devoured he poor children three.
That could ntjt with him grai)[)le ;
And at one sup he eat them iij),
As one would eat an aj^jjle.
284 THE DRAGON OF WANT LEY.
All sorts of cattle this dragon did eat. 25
Some say he ate up trees,
And that the forests sure he would
Devour up by degrees :
For houses and churches were to him geese and
turkies ;
He ate all, and left none behind, 30
But some stones, dear Jack, that he could not crack,
Which on the hills you will find.
In Yorkshire, near fair Rotherham,^
The place I know it well ;
Some two or three miles, or thereabouts, 35
I vow I cannot tell.
But there is a hedge, just on the hill edge.
And Matthew's house hard by it ;
O there and then was this dragon's den,
You could not chuse but spy it. 40
Some say, this dragon was a witch ;
Some say, he was a devil.
For from his nose a smoke arose,
And with it burning snivel ;
Which he cast off, when he did cough, 45
In a well that he did stand by ;
Which made it look, just like a brook
Running with burning brandy.
Hard by a furious knight there dwelt,
Of whom all towns did ring ; 5°
For he could wrestle, play at quarter-staff, kick,
cuff, and huff.
Call son of a whore, do any kind of thing :
Ver. 29. were to him gorse and birches. Other Copies.
\} Wharncliffe is about six miles from Rotherham.]
THE DRAGON OF WANT LEY. 285
By the tail and the main, with his hands twain
He swung a horse till he was dead ;
And that which is stranger, he for very anger 55
Eat him all up but his head.
These children, as I am told, being eat ;
Men, w^omen, girls and boys,
Sighing and sobbing, came to his lodging,
And made a hideous noise : 60
O save us all, More of More- Hall,
Thou peerless knight of these woods ;
Do but slay this dragon, who won't leave us a rag on,
We'll give thee all our goods.
Tut, tut, quoth he, no goods I want ; 65
But I want, I want, in sooth,
A fair maid of sixteen, that's brisk, and keen,
With smiles about the mouth ;
Hair black as sloe, skin white as snow,
With blushes her cheeks adorning ; 70
To anoynt me o'er night, ere I go to fight,
And to dress me in the mornincj.
'&■
This being done, he did engage
To hew the dragon down;
But first he went, new armour to 75
Bespeak at Sheffield town ;
With spikes all about, not within but without,
Of steel so sharp and strong ;
Both behind and before, arms, legs, and all o'er
Some five or six inches long. 80
Had you but seen him in this dress,
How fierce he look'd and how big,
You would have thought him for to be
Some Egyptian porcupig :
286 THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY.
He frighted all, cats, dogs, and all, 85
Each cow, each horse, and each hog :
For fear they did flee, for they took him to be
Some strange outlandish hedge-hog.
To see this fight, all people then
Got up on trees and houses, 90
On churches some, and chimneys too ;
But these put on their trowses,
Not to spoil their hose. As soon as he rose,
To make him strong and mighty.
He drank by the tale, six pots of ale, 95
And a quart of aqua-vitae.
It is not strength that always wins,
For wit doth strength excell ;
Which made our cunning champion
Creep down into a well ; 100
Where he did think, this dragon would drink.
And so he did in truth ;
And as he stoop'd low, he rose up and cry'd, boh !
And hit him in the mouth.
O, quoth the dragon, pox take thee, come out, 105
Thou disturb'st me in my drink :
And then he turn'd, and s ... at him ;
Good lack how he did stink !
Beshrew thy soul, thy body's foul,
Thy dung smells not like balsam ; no
Thou son of a whore, thou stink'st so sore,
Sure thy diet is unwholesome.
Our politick knight, on the other side,
Crept out upon the brink,
And gave the dragon such a douse, 115
He knew not what to think :
By cock, quoth he, say you so : do you see ?
And then at him he let fly
THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY. 287
With hand and with foot, and so they went to't ;
And the word it was, Hey boys, hey ! izo
Your words, quotli the dragon, I don't under-
stand :
Then to it they fell at all,
Like two wild boars so fierce, if I may.
Compare great things with small.
Two days and a night, with this dragon did fight 125
Our champion on the ground ;
Tho' their strength it was great, their skill it was
neat.
They never had one wound.
At length the hard earth began to quake.
The dragon gave him a knock, 130
Which made him to reel, and straltway he thought,
To lift him as high as a rock.
And thence let him fall. But More of More-Hall,
Like a valiant son of Mars,
As he came like a lout, so he turn'd him about, 135
And hit him a kick on the a . . .
Oh, quoth the dragon, with a deep sigh.
And turn'd six times together,
Sobbing and tearing, cursing and swearing
Out of his throat of leather ; 140
More of More- Hall ! O thou rascal !
Would I had seen thee never ;
With the thing at thy foot, thou hast prick'd my
a . .gut,
And I'm quite undone for ever.
Murder, murder, the dragon cry'd, 145
Alack, alack, for grief;
1 lad you but mist that place, you could
Have done me no mischief.
288 THE DRAGON OF WANTLEY.
Then his head he shaked, trembled and quaked,
And down he laid and cry'd ; 150
First on one knee, then on back tumbled he,
So groan'd, kickt, s . . ., and dy'd.
XIV.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
The First Part.
^S the former song is in ridicule of the extravagant inci-
dents in old ballads and metrical romances ; so this is
a burlesque of their style ; particularly of the rambling
transitions and wild accumulations of unconnected
parts, so frequent in many of them.
This ballad is given from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys
collection, "imprinted at London, 1612." It is more ancient
than many of the preceding ; but we place it here for the sake
of connecting it with the Second Part.
S^Saint George that, Of did break the dragon's heart is one of the
ballads offered for sale by Nightingale, the ballad-singer in Ben
Jonson's coTnedy oi Bartholo?new Fair {■SiCtW. sc. i), and according
to Fielding's Tom Jones, St. George, he was for England, was one
of Squire Western's favourite tunes.
This ballad is printed in several collections, and Mr. Chappell
notices a modernization subscribed S. S. and " printed for W.
Gilbertson in Giltspur Street," about 1659, which commences —
" What need we brag or boast at all
Of Arthur and his knights."]
HY doe you boast of Arthur and his
knightes,
Knowing ' well ' how many men have en-
dured fightes .-*
For besides king Arthur, and Lancelot du lake,
Or sir Tristram de Lionel, that fought for ladies
sake ;
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 289
Read in old histories, and there you shall see
How St. George, St. George the dragon made to
flee.
St. George he was for England ; St, Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Hani soit qici mal y pcnse.
Mark our father Abraham, when first he resckued
Lot
Onel)- with his household, what conquest there he
got :
David was elected a prophet and a king,
He slew the great Goliah, with a stone within a
sling :
Yet these were not knightes of the table round ;
Nor St. George, St. George, who the dragon did
confound.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, 'Honi soit qui mal y pcnse.
Jcphthah and Gideon did lead their men to fight,
They conquered the Amorites, and put them all to
lliirht:
Hercules his labours 'were' on the plaines of Basse;
And Sampson slew a thousand with the jawbone of
an asse.
And eke he threw a temple downe, and did a
mighty spoyle :
But St. George, St. George he did the dragon foylc.
St. George he was for England; St. Dennis was for
1'" ranee ;
Sing, Jloni soit qui mat y pcnse.
The warres of ancient monarchs it were too lonc;^ to
tell,
And likewise of the Romans, how farre they did
excell ;
X u
290 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
Hannyball and Scipio in many a fielde did fighte :
Orlando Furioso he was a worthy knighte :
Remus and Romulus, were they that Rome did
builde :
But St. George, St. George the dragon made to
yielde.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qzci mal y pe?ise.
The noble Alphonso, that was the Spanish king,
The order of the red scarffes and bandrolles in did
bring :*
He had a troope of mighty knightes, when first he
did begin,
Which sought adventures farre and neare, that con-
quest they might win :
The ranks of the Pagans he often put to flight :
But St. George, St . George did with the dragon fight.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qui mal y pense.
Many 'knights' have fought with proud Tamber-
laine.
Cutlax the Dane, great warres he did maintaine :
Rowland of Beame, and good ' sir ' Olivere
In the forest of Aeon slew both woolfe and beare:
Besides that noble Hollander, 'sir' Goward with
the bill :
But St. George, St. George the dragon's blood did
spill.
* This probably alludes to " An Ancient Order of Knighthood,
called the Order of the Band, instituted by Don Alphonsus, king
of Spain, ... to wear a red riband of three fingers breadth," &c.
See Ames Typog. p. 327.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 291
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qui mal y peuse.
Valentine and Orson were of king Pepin's blood :
Alfride and Henry they were brave knightes and
good :
The four sons of Aymon,that follow'd Charlemaine:
Sir Hughon of Bordeaux, and Godfrey of Bullaine :
These were all French knightes that lived in that
age:
But St. Georo^e, St. Georore the drao^on did assuaire.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qui mal y pense.
Bevis conquered Ascapart, and after slew the boare,
And then he crost beyond the seas to combat with
the moore :
Sir Isejibras, and Eglamore they were knightes
most bold ;
And good Sir John Mandeville of travel much hath
told:
There were many English knights that Pagans did
convert :
But St. George, St. George pluckt out the dragon's
heart.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Iloni soil qui mal y pcnse.
The noble earl of Warwick, that was call'd sir Guy,
The infidels and pagans stoutlie did dciie ;
I ieslew the giant Brandimore,and after wasthc death
Of that most ghastly dun cowe, the divell of Duns-
more heath ;
Pjcsides his noble deeds all done beyond the seas :
But St. George, St. George the dragon did appease.
292 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.
Richard Coeur-de-Hon erst king of this land,
He the lion gored with his naked hand :*
The false duke of Austria nothing did he feare ;
But his son he killed with a boxe on the eare ;
Besides his famous actes done in the holy lande :
But St. George, St. George the dragon did with-
stande.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.
Henry the fifth he conquered all France,
And quartered their arms, his honour to advance :
He their cities razed, and threw their castles downe,
And his head he honoured with a double crowne :
He thumped the French-men, and after home he
came :
But St. George, St. George he did the dragon tame.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soit qui mal y perise.
St. David of Wales the Welsh-men much advance :
St. Jaques of Spaine, that never yet broke lance :
St. Patricke of Ireland, which was St. Georges boy,
Seven yeares he kept his horse, and then stole hirti
away :
For which knavish act, as slaves they doe remaine :
But St. George, St. George the dragon he hath
slaine.
* Alluding to the fabulous exploits attributed to this king in
the old romances. See the dissertation affixed to this volume.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 29
003
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soit qui inal y pensc.
XV.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
The Second Part
IAS \\Titten by John Grubb, M.A. of Christ Church,
>^^ Oxford. The occasion of its being composed is said
to have been as follows. A set of gentlemen of the
university had formed themselves into a club, all the
members of which were to be of the name of George: Their anni-
versary feast was to be held on St. George's day. Our author
solicited strongly to be admitted ; but his name being unfortunately
John, this disqualification was dispensed with only upon this con-
dition, that he would compose a song in honour of their Patron
Saint, and would every year produce one or more new stanzas,
to be sung on their annual festival. This gave birth to the fol-
lowing humorous performance, the several stanzas of which were
the produce of many successive anniversaries.*
This diverting poem was long handed about in manuscript, at
length a friend of Grubb's undertook to get it printed, who, not
keeping pace with the impatience of his friends, was addressed in
the following whimsical macaronic lines, which, in such a collection
as this, may not improperly accompany the poem itself
£xpostuIatiunai/a, sive Qucrimoniuucula ad Antoiiium ^Athcrto}i\
ob VoQvcxdi Johannis Grubb, Viri tov iraw ingeniosissimi in lucem
nondum editi.
Toni ! Tune sipes divina poemata Grubbi
Intomb'd in secret thus still to remain any longer,
'Vovvo^ia aov shall last, H Vpvj]ftt cmfnrtptr utt,
Grubbe tuum nomen vivet dum nobilis ale-a
• To this circumstance it is owing that the editor has never met
with two copies, in which the stanzas are arranged alike, he has
294 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
Efficit heroas, dignamque heroe puellam.
Est genus heroum, quos nobilis efficit alea-a
Qui pro niperkin clamant, quaternque liquoris
Quem vocitant Homines Brandy, Superi Cherry-brandy.
Ssepe illi longcut, vel small-cut flare Tobacco
Sunt soliti pipos. Ast si generosior herba
(Per varies casus, per tot discrimina rerum)
Mundungus desit, turn non funcare recusant
Brown-paper tosta, vel quod fit arundine bed-mat.
Hie labor, hoc opus est heroum ascendere sedes !
Ast ego quo rapiar ! quo me feret entheus ardor
Grubbe, tui memorem ? Divinum expande poema.
Qu» mora ? quae ratio est, quin Grubbi protinus anser
Virgilii, Flaccique simul canat inter olores ?
At length the importunity of his friends prevailed, and Mr.
Grubb's song was published at Oxford, under the following title :
The British Heroes.
A New Poem in honour of St. George,
By Mr. John Grubb,
School-master of Christ-Church,
Oxon. 1688.
Favete linguis : carmina non prius
Audita, musarum sucerdos
Canto. — HoR.
Sold by Henry Clements. Oxon.
igs^)iC=Q!Ca<:i<:;>
HE Story of king Arthur old
Is very memorable,
The number of his valiant knights,
And roundness of his table :
The knio-hts around his table in 5
A circle sate d'ye see :
And altogether made up one
Large hoop of chivalry.
therefore thrown them into what appeared the most natural order.
The verses are properly long Alexandrines, but the narrowness of
the page made it necessary to subdivide them : they are here
printed with many improvements.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 295
He had a sword, both broad and sharp,
Y-clepd Cahburn, 10
Would cut a flint more easily,
Than pen-knife cuts a corn ;
As case-knife does a capon carve,
So would it carve a rock,
And split a man at single slash, is
From noddle down to nock.
As Roman Augur's steel of yore
Dissected Tarquin's riddle,
So this would cut both conjurer
And whetstone thro' the middle. 20
He was the cream of Brecknock,
And flower of all the Welsh :
But George he did the dragon fell,
And gave him a plaguy squelsh.^
St. Georcre he was for Enoland ; St. Dennis was for
France ; 25
Sing, Honi soit qui maly pcnse.
Pendragon, like his father Jove,
Was fed with milk of goat ;
And like him made a noble shield
Of she-goat's shaggy coat : 30
On top of burnisht helmet he
Did wear a crest of leeks ;
And onions' heads, whose dreadful nod
Drew tears down hostile cheeks.
Itch, and Welsh blood did make him hot, 35
And very prone to ire ;
H' was ting'd with brimstone, like a match,
And would as soon take fire.
y\s brimstone he took inwardly
When scurf gave him occasion, 4°
His postern puff of wind was a
Sulphureous exhalation.
[' l)l0W.]
296 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
The Briton never tergivers'd,
But was for adverse drubbino-,
And never turn'd his back to aught, 45
But to a post for scrubbing.
His sword would serve for battle, or
For dinner, if you please ;
When it had slain a Cheshire man,
'Twould toast a Cheshire cheese. 50
He wounded, and, in their own blood,
Did anabaptize Pagans :
But George he made the dragon an
Example to all dragons.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ; 55
Sing, Honi soil qui mal y pejise.
Brave Warwick Guy, at dinner time,
Challeng'd a gyant savage ;
And streight came out the unweildy lout
Brim-full of wrath and cabbage : 60
He had a phiz of latitude,
And was full thick i' th' middle ;
The chekes of puffed trumpeter.
And paunch of squire Beadle.*
But the knight fell'd him, like an oak, 65
And did upon his back tread ;
The valiant knight his weazon cut.
And Atropos his packthread.
Besides he fought with a dun cow,
As say the poets witty, 70
A dreadful dun, and horned too.
Like dun of Oxford city :
The fervent dog-days made her mad.
By causing heat of weather.
* Men of bulk answerable to their places, as is well known at
Oxford.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 297
Syrius and Procyon baited her, 75
As bull-doij^s did her father :
Grafters, nor butchers this fell beast,
E'er of her frolick hindered ;
John Dosset* she'd knock down as Hat,
As John knocks down her kindred : 80
Her heels would lay ye all along",
And kick into a swoon;
Frewin'sf cow-heels keep up your corpse,
But hers would beat you down.
She vanquisht many a sturdy wight, 85
And proud was of the honour ;
Was pufft by mauling butchers so.
As if themselves had blown her.
At once she kickt, and pusht at Guy,
But all that would not fright him ; 90
Who wav'd his winyard o'er sir-loyn,
As if he'd gone to knight him.
He let her blood, frenzy to cure,
And eke he did her gall rip ;
His trenchant blade, like cook's long spit, <;s
Ran thro' the monster's bald-rib :
He rear'd up the vast crooked rib.
Instead of arch triumphal :
But George hit th' dragon such a pelt,
As made him on his bum fall. 100
St. Georfre he was for Enijland ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qui mat y pcnse.
Tamerlain, with Tartarian bow.
The Turkish squadrons slew ;
And fetch'd the pagan crescent down, 105
With half-moun made of yew :
♦ A butcher tliat then served the rollcge.
t A cook, who on fust nights was famous for selling cow-heel
and tripe.
298 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
His trusty bow proud Turks did gall,
With showers of arrows thick,
And bow-strings, without strangling, sent
Grand Viziers to old Nick : nc
Much turbants, and much Pagan pates
He made to humble in dust;
And heads of Saracens he fixt
On spear, as on a sign-post :
He coop'd in cage Bajazet the prop 115
Of Mahomet's religion,
As if 't been the whispering bird,
That prompted him ; the pigeon.
In Turkey leather scabbard, he
Did sheathe his blade so trenchant : 120
But George he swinged the dragon's tail,
And cut off every inch on't.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qui mal y pense.
The amazon Thalestris was 12s
Both beautiful, and bold ;
She sear'd her breasts with iron hot.
And bang'd her foes with cold.
Her hand was like the tool, wherewith
Jove keeps proud mortals under : 130
It shone just like his lightning,
And batter'd like his thunder.
Her eye darts lightning, that would blast
The proudest he that swagger'd,
And melt the rapier of his soul, 135
In its corporeal scabbard.
Her beauty, and her drum to foes
Did cause amazement double ;
As timorous larks amazed are
With light, and with a low-bell : 140
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 299
With beauty, and that lapland-charm,*
Poor men she did bewitch all ;
Still a blind whining- lover had,
As Pallas had her scrich-owl.
She kept the chastness of a nun 145
In armour, as in cloyster :
But George undid the dragon just
As you'd undo an oister.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qui inal y pense.
ISO
Stout Hercules, was offspring of
Great Jove, and fair Alcmene :
One part of him celestial was,
One part of him terrene.
To scale the hero's cradle walls 155
Two fiery snakes combin'd.
And, curling into swaddling cloaths,
About the infant twin'd :
But he put out these dragons' fires.
And did their hissing stop; 160
As red-hot iron with hissing noise
Is quencht in blacksmith's shop.
He cleans'd a stable, and rubb'd down
The horses of new-comers ;
And out of horse-dung he rais'd fame, 165
As Tom Wrench t does cucumbers.
He made a river help him through ;
Alpheus was under-groom ;
The stream, disgust at office mean.
Ran murmuring thro' the room : 170
This liquid ostler to prevent
Being tired with that long work,
• The drum.
t \Vlio kept Paradise gardens at Oxford.
300 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
His father Neptune's trident took,
Instead of three-tooth'd dung-fork.
This Hercules, as soldier, and 175
As spinster, could take pains ;
His club would sometimes spin ye flax,
And sometimes knock out brains :
H' was forc'd to spin his miss a shift
By Juno's wrath and her-spite ; 180
Fair Omphale whipt him to his wheel,
As cook whips barking turn-spit.
From man, or churn he well knew how
To get him lasting fame :
He'd pound a giant, till the blood, 185
And milk till butter came.
Often he fought with huge battoon,
. And oftentimes he boxed ;
Tapt a fresh monster once a month.
As Hervey* doth fresh hogshead. 190
He gave Anteus such a hug,
As wrestlers give in Cornwall :
But George he did the dragon kill,
As dead as any door-nail.
St, George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ; 195
Sing, Ho7ii soil qui mal y pense.
The Gemini, sprung from an ^^g,
Were put into a cradle :
Their brains with knocks and bottled ale,
Were often-times full addle : 200
And, scarcely hatch'd, these sons of him,
That hurls the bolt trisulcate,
With helmet-shell on tender head,
Did tustle with red-ey'd pole-cat.
* A noted drawer at the Mermaid tavern in Oxford.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. :;oi
o*
205
2 10
2 I
220
Castor a horseman, Pollux tho'
A boxer was, I wist :
The one was fam'd for iron heel ;
Th' other for leaden fist.
Pollux to shew he was god,
When he was in a passion
With fist made noses fall down Hat
By way of adoration :
This fist, as sure as French disease,
Demolish'd noses' ridijes :
He like a certain lord * was famd'
For breaking: down of bridees.
Castor the fiame of fiery steed.
With well-spur'd boots took down ;
As men, with leathern buckets, quench
A fire in country town.
His famous horse, that liv'd on oats,
Is sung on oaten quill ;
By bards' immortal provender
The nag surviveth still.
This shelly brood on none but knaves 223
Employ 'd their brisk artillery :
And tlcw as naturally at rogues,
As eggs at thief in pillory. t
Much sweat they spent in furious fight,
Much blood they did effund : 230
Their whites they vented thro' the pores ;
Their yolks thro' gaping wound :
* Lord Lovelace broke down the bridges about Oxford, at the
beginning of the Revolution. See on this subject a IJallad in
.Smith's I'eoms, p. 102. Loniion, 17 13.
t It has been suggested by an ingenious correspondent that
this was a popular subject at that lime : —
Not carted bawd, or Dan de Foe,
In wooden rulf ere bluslcrM so.
Smith's Poems, p. 117.
302 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
Then both were cleans'd from blood and dust
To make a heavenly sign ;
The lads were, like their armour, scowr'd, 235
And then hung up to shine ;
Such were the heavenly double-Dicks,
The sons of Jove and Tyndar :
But George he cut the dragon up,
As he had bin duck or windar.^ a+o
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.
Gorgon a twisted adder wore
For knot upon her shoulder :
She kemb'd her hissing periwig, 245
And curling snakes did powder.
These snakes they made stiff changelings
Of all the folks they hist on ;
They turned barbars into hones,
And masons into free-stone: 250
Sworded magnetic Amazon
Her shield to load-stone changes;
Then amorous sword by magic belt
Clunof fast unto her haunches.
This shield long village did protect, 255
And kept the army from-town.
And chang'd the bullies into rocks.
That came t' invade Long-Compton.*
She post-diluvian stores unmans,
And Pyrrha's work unravels ; 260
And stares Deucalion's hardy boys
Into their primitive pebbles.
* See the account of Rolricht Stones, in Dr. Plott's H/sL of
Oxfordshire.
[' perhaps a contraction of windhover, a kind of hawk.]
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 303
Red noses she to rubies turns,
And noddles into bricks :
But George made dragon laxative ; 265
And gave him a bloody flix.
St. Georee he was for Eno-land ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soil qui mal y pcnsc.
By boar-spear Meleager got,
An everlasting name, 270
And out of haunch of basted swine,
He hew'd eternal fame.
This beast each hero's trouzers ript,
And rudely shew'd his bare-breech,
Prickt but the wem, and out there came 275
Heroic euts and ofarbadcje.
Legs were secur'd by iron boots
No more, than peas by pcascods :
Brass helmets, with inclosed sculls,
Woii'd crackle in's mouth like chest-
nuts. 280
His tawny hairs erected were
By rage, that was resistless ;
And wrath, instead of cobler's wax,
Did stiffen his rising bristles.
His tusk lay'd dogs so dead asleep, 285
Nor horn, nor whip cou'd wake 'um :
It made them vent both their last blood,
And their last album-grecum.
But the knight gor'd him with his spear.
To make of him a tame one, 290
And arrows thick, instead of cloves,
He stuck in monster's gammon.
For monumental pillar, that
I lis victory might Ix: known.
He rais'd uj), in c)lindric form, ags
A collar of the brawn.
304 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
He sent his shade to shades below,
In Stygian mud to wallow :
And eke the stout St. George eftsoon,
He made the dragon follow. 300
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honisoit qui nial y pense.
Achilles of old Chiron learnt
The great horse for to ride ;
H' was taught by th' Centaur's rational part, 305
The hinnible to bestride.
Bright silver feet, and shining face
Had that stout hero's mother;
As rapier's silver'd at one end,
And wounds you at the other. 310
Her feet were bright, his feet were swift.
As hawk pursuing sparrow :
Her's had the metal, his the speed
Of Braburn's* silver arrow.
Thetis to double pedagogue 315
Commits her dearest boy ;
Who bred him from a slender twig
To be the scourge of Troy :
But ere he lash't the Trojans, h' was
In Stygian waters steept ; 320
As birch is soaked first in piss.
When boys are to be whipt.
With skin exceeding hard, he rose
From lake, so black and muddy,
As lobsters from the ocean rise, 325
With shell about their body :
And, as from lobster's broken claw.
Pick out the fish you might :
* Braburn, a gentleman commoner of Lincoln college, gave a
silver arrow to be shot for by the archers of the university of
Oxford.
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND, ^o
J^D
So might you from one unshell'd heel
Dig- pieces of the kniglit. 330
His myrmidons robb'd Priam's barns
And hen-roosts, says the song;
Carried away both corn and eggs,
Like ants from whence they sprung.
Himself tore Hector's pantaloons. 335
And sent him down bare-breech'd
To pedant Radamanthus, in
A posture to be switch'd.
But George he made the dragon look,
As if he had been bewitch'd. 34.0
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Ho7ii soil qui vial y paise.
Full fatal to the Romans was
The Carthafrinian Hanni-
bal ; him I mean, who gave them such 345
A devilish thump at Cannae :
Moors thick, as goats on Penmenmure,
Stood on the Alpes's front :
Their one-eyed guide,* like blinking mole,
Bor'd thro' the hindring mount : 350
Who, baffled by the massy rock,
Took vinegar for relief;
Like plowmen, when they hew their way
Thro' stubborn rump of beef.
As dancing louts from humid toes 35s
Cast atoms of ill favour
To blinking Hyatt, t when on vile crowd
He merriment does endeavour,
* Hannibal had but one eye.
\ A one-cycfl fellow, who |)rctcnflcd to make fiddles, as well as
play on them ; well known at that tunc in (Jxfurd.
3 X
3o6 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
And saws from suffering timber out
Some wretched tune to quiver : 360
So Romans slunk and squeak'd at sight
Of Affrican carnivor.
The tawny surface of his phiz
Did serve instead of vizzard :
But George he made the dragon have 365
A grumbHng in his gizzard.
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi soit qui mal y pense.
The valour of Domitian,
It must not be forgotten ; 370
Who from the jaws of worm-blowing flies,
Protected veal and mutton.
A squadron of flies errant,
Against the foe appears ;
With regiments of buzzing knights, 375
And swarms of volunteers :
The warlike wasp encourag'd 'em,
With animating hum ;
And the loud brazen hornet next.
He was their kettle-drum : 380
The Spanish don Cantharido
Did him most sorely pester,
And rais'd on skin of vent'rous knight
Full many a plaguy blister.
A bee whipt thro' his button hole, 385
As thro' key hole a witch,
And stabb'd him with her little tuck
Drawn out of scabbard breech :
But the undaunted knight lifts up
An arm both big and brawny, 390
And slasht her so, that here lay head,
And there lay bag and honey :
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 307
Then 'mongst the rout he flew as swift,
As weapon made by Cyclops,
And bravely quell'd seditious buz, 395
By dint of massy fly-flops.
Surviving flies do curses breathe,
And matrcrots too at Caesar :
But George he shav'd the dragon's beard,
And Askelon* was his razor. 400
St. George he was for England ; St. Dennis was for
France ;
Sing, Honi so it qui mal y pense.
John Grubb, the facetious \\Titer of the foregoing song, makes a
distinguished figure among the Oxford wits so humorously enu-
merated in the following distich :
Alma novem genuit ce'lebres Rhedycina poetas
Bub, Stubby Grubb, Crabb, Trap, Young, Carey, Tickel, Evans.
These were Bub Dodington (the late lord Melcombe), Dr. Stubbes,
our poet Grubl>, Mr. Crabb, Dr. Trapp the poetry-professor, Dr.
Edw. Young, the autlior of Night-Thoughts, Walter Carey, Thomas
Tickel, Esq., and Dr. Evans the epigrammatist.
As for our poet Grubb, all that we can learn further of him is
contained in a few extracts from the University Register, and from
his epitaph. It appears from the former that he was matricu-
lated in 1667, being the son of John Grubb, " de Acton Burnt-/ in
comitatu Salop, pauperis" He took his degree of 15achelor of Arts,
June 28, 1C71 : and became Master of Arts, June 28, 1675. He
was appointed Head Master of the Grammar School at Christ
Churcii : and afterwards chosen into the same employment at
Gloucester, where he died in 1697, as ai)pears from his monument
in the church of St. Mary dc Crypt in Gloucester, which is inscribed
with the following epitaj^h : —
H. S. E.
Johannes Grubb, A. M.
Natus apud Acton Burncl in agro Salopicnsi
Anno Dom. 1645.
The name of St. George's sword.
3o8 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND.
Cujus variam in linguis notitiam,
et felicem erudiendis pueris industriam,
grata adliuc memoria testatur Oxonium :
Ibi enim ^di Christi initiatus,
artes excoluit ;
Pueros ad easdem mox excolendas
accurate formavit :
Hue demum
unanimi omnium consensu accitus,
eandem suscepit provinciam,
quam feliciter adeo absolvit,
ut nihil optandum sit
nisi ut diutius nobis interfuisset :
Fuit enim
propter festivam ingenij suavitatem,
simplicem monun candorem, et
prascipuam erga cognatos benevolentiam,
omnibus desideratissimus.
Obiit 2do die Aprilis, Anno Dni. 1697.
^tatis sure 51.
XVI.
MARGARET'S GHOST.
^S5V=»>^ii
I'HIS ballad, which appeared in some of the public news-
papers in or before the year 1724, came from the pen
of David Mallet, Esq. who in the edition of his poems,
3 vols. 1759, informs us that the plan was suggested
by the four verses quoted above in page 124, which he supposed
to be the beginning of some ballad now lost.
" These Hues, says he, naked of ornament and simple, as they
are, struck my fancy ; and bringing fresh into my mind an unhappy
adventure much talked of formerly, gave birth to the following
poem, which was written many years ago."
The two introductory lines (and one or two others elsewhere)
had originally more of the ballad simplicity, viz.
" When all was wrapt in dark midnight,
And all were fast asleep," &c.
In a late publication, intitled. The Friends, &c. Lond. 1773,
2 vols. i2mo. (in the first volume, p. 71) is inserted a copy of
MARGARETS GHOST. 309
the foregoing ballad, with very great variations, which the editor
of that work contends was the original ; and that Mallet adopted
it for his OA\-n and altered it, as here given. — But the superior
beauty and simplicity of the present copy, gives it so much more
the air of an original, that it will rather be believed that some
transcriber altered it from Mallet's, and adapted the lines to his
own taste ; than which nothing is more common in popular songs
and ballads.
[This ballad, more generally known as William and Margaret,
is supposed to have been printed for the first time in Aaron Hill's
Plain Dealer (Xo. 36, July 24, 1724), when the author was a very
young man. Hill introduced it to the reader as the work of an
old poet, and wTote, " I am sorry I am not able to acquaint my
readers with his name to whom we owe this melancholy piece of
finished poetry under the humble title of a ballad." In the fol-
lowing month the editor announced that " he had discovered the
author to be still alive." The verses were probably written in
1723, in the August of which year Mallet left Scotland, for Allan
Ramsay, in his Stanzas to Mr. David Mallock on his departure from
Scotland, alludes to them :—
*' But he that could, in tender strains.
Raise Margaret's plaining shade,
i^nd paints distress that chills the veins,
While William's crimes are red."
The ballad at once became popular, and was printed in several
collections, undergoing many alterations for the worse by the
way. Sundry attempts were made to rob Mallet of the credit of
his song. Besides the one mentioned above by Percy, Captain
Thompson, the editor of Andrew Marvell's Works, claimed it for
Marvell, but this claim was even more ridiculous than those he
set up against Addison and Watts. Although Mallet doubtless
knew the ballads Fair Margaret and Sioeet William (l)ook ii.
No. 4) and Sweet Willianis Ghost (No. 6), he is said to have
founded his own upon a true story which came under his obser-
vation. A daughter of Professor James Gregory of St. Andrews,
and afterwards of Edinburgh, was seduced by a son of Sir William
Sharp of Strathyruni, who had promised to marry her, but heart-
lessly deserted her.
The ballad has been e.xtravagantly praised : Ritson observes,
" It may be questioned whether any I'^nglish writer has j^roduced
so fine a ballad as Willinm and Afargaret." Percy describes it as
one of the most beautiful Ijaliads in our own or any other language;
and Allan Ram.say writes, " I know not where to seek a finer
mi.xture of pathos and terror in the whole range of (Jothic ro-
mance." Scott, on the other hand, was of opinion that " 'Ihe
o
lo MARGARETS GHOST.
ballad, though the best of Mallet's writing, is certainly inferior to
the original, which I presume to be the very fine and terrific old
Scottish tale, beginning
' There came a ghost to Margaret's door.' "
The extreme popularity of the poem is seen by the various paro-
dies, one of which, Watty arid Madge, is printed in Ramsay's Tea
Table Miscellany (vol. iii.)- It commences — >
" 'Twas at the shining mid-day hour,"
and each succeeding verse is parodied in the same manner. Vin-
cent Browne imitated the original in Latin verse, and a German
version was published as Wilhelm iind Gretchen.
Mallet was a native of Crieff in Perthshire, and is believed to
have been born in the year 1702. He was sometime tutor to the
Montrose family, through whose influence he was introduced into
public life. He changed his name from Malloch to Mallet when
he settled in London, and in 1742 he was appointed Under Secre-
tary to the Prince of Wales. He died on the 21st of April, 1765.
Mallet is a writer Httle cared for now, but he can hardly be said
to be neglected, for in 1857 Mr. Frederick Dinsdale published an
illustrated edition of his Ballads and Songs, chiefly made up of
copious notes on William and Margaret and Edwin and Em?na.~]
'^^^^^WAS at the silent solemn hour,
When night and morning meet;
In glided Margaret's grimly ghost,
And stood at William's feet.
Her face was like an April morn, 5
Clad in a wintry cloud :
And clay-cold was her lily hand,
That held her sable shrowd.
So shall the fairest face appear.
When youth and years are flown : 10
Such is the robe that kings must wear,
When death has reft their crown.
MARGARETS GHOST. -xii
o
Her bloom was like the springing flower,
That sips the silver dew ;
The rose was budded in her cheek, 15
Just opening to the view.
But love had, like the canker worm,
Consum'd her early prime :
The rose grew pale, and left her cheek ;
She dy'd before her time. ao
" Awake !" she cry'd, " thy true love calls,
Come from her midnicrht or^ave ;
Now let thy pity hear the maid.
Thy love refus'd to save.
" This is the dark and dreary hour, »5
When injur'd ghosts complain ;
Now yawning graves give up their dead.
To haunt the faithless swain.
" Bethmk thee, William, of thy fault.
Thy pledge, and broken oath : 30
And give me back my maiden vow.
And give me back my troth.
" Why did you promise love to me.
And not that promise keep ?
Why did you swear mine eyes were bright, 35
Yet leave those eyes to weep ?
" How could you say my face was fair.
And yet that face forsake ?
How could you win my virgin heart.
Yet leave that heart to break ? 4^
" Why did )'ou say my lip was sweet,
And made the scarlet pale ?
And why did I, young witless maid,
H('lieve the flattering tale ?
312 MARGARETS GHOST.
" That face, alas ! no more is fair ; 45
These lips no longer red :
Dark are my eyes, now clos'd in death,
And every charm is fled.
" The hungry worm my sister is ;
This winding-sheet I wear : 50
And cold and weary lasts our night,
Till that last morn appear.
" But hark ! the cock has warn'd me hence !
A long and last adieu !
Come see, false man, how low she lies, 55
Who dy'd for love of you."
The lark sung loud ; the morning smil'd,
With beams of rosy red :
Pale William shook in ev'ry limb.
And raving left his bed. 60
He hyed him to the fatal place.
Where Margaret's body lay ;
And stretch'd him on the grass-green turf,
That wrapt her breathless clay :
And thrice he call'd on Margaret's name, 65
And thrice he wept full sore :
Then laid his cheek to her cold grave,
And word spake never more.
XVII.
LUCY AND COLIN
'AS written by Thomas Tickell, Esq. the celebrated friend
of Mr. Addison, and editor of his works. He was son
of a clergyman in the north of England, had his educa-
tion at Queen's college, Oxon, was under secretary to
Mr. Addison and Mr. Craggs, when successively secretaries of
LUCY AND COLIN. 313
state; and was lastly (in June, 1724) appointed secretary to the
Lords Justices in Ireland, which place he held till his death in
1740.* He acquired Mr. Addison's patronage by a poem in praise
of the opera of Rosamond, written while he was at the University.
It is a tradition in Ireland, that the song was wTitten at Castle-
town, in the county of Kildare, at the request of the then Mrs.
Conolly — probably on some event recent in that neighbourhood.
[Gray called Lucy and Colin " the prettiest" ballad in the world,
although he was not partial to Tickell's other poems.
The fine old melody given by Dr. Rimbault for this ballad is
taken from " 77;*? Mcny Musician ; or a Cure for the Spleen ; be-
ing a collection of the most diverting Songs and pleasant Ballads
set to Musick," 1716.]
F Leinster, fam'd for maidens fair,
Bright Lucy was the grace ;
Nor e'er did Liffy's Hmpid stream
Reflect so fair a face.
Till luckless love, and pining care 5
Impair'd her rosy hue,
Her coral lip, and damask cheek.
And eyes of glossy blue.
Oh ! have you seen a lily pale,
When beating rains descend ? 10
So droop'd the slow-consuming maid ;
Her life now near its end.
By Lucy warn'd, of flattering swains
Take heed, ye easy fair :
Of vengeance due to broken vows, 15
Ye perjured swains, beware.
Three times, all in the dead of night,
A bell was heard to ring ;
And at her window, slirieking thric(;.
The raven flap'd his wing. 20
[* Born 1 686. J
^
314 LUCY AND COLIN.
Too well the love-lorn maiden knew
That solemn boding sound ;
And thus, in dying words, bespoke
The virgins weeping round.
' I hear a voice, you cannot hear, 25
Which says I must not stay :
I see a hand, you cannot see,
Which beckons me away.
" By a false heart, and broken vows.
In early youth I die. 30
Am I to blame, because his bride
Is thrice as rich as I ?
" Ah Colin ! give not her thy vows ;
Vows due to me alone :
Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss, 35
Nor think him all thy own.
** To-morrow in the church to wed,
Impatient, both prepare ;
But know, fond maid, and know, false man.
That Lucy will be there, 40
** Then, bear my corse ; ye comrades, bear.
The bridegroom blithe to meet ;
He in his wedding-trim so gay,
I in my winding-sheet."
She spoke, she dy'd ; — her corse was borne, 45
The bridegroom blithe to meet ;
He in his wedding-trim so gay,
She in her windina--sheet.
Then what were perjur'd Colin's thoughts ?
How were those nuptials kept ? 50
The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.
LUCY AND COLIN. 315
Confusion, shame, remorse, despair
At once his bosom swell :
The damps of death bedew'd his brow, 55
He shook, he groan'd, he fell.
From the vain bride (ah bride no more !)
The varying- crimson fled,
Wlien, stretch'd before her rival's corse,
She saw her husband dead. 60
Then to his Lucy's new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling swains.
One mould with her, beneath one sod,
For ever now remains.
Oft at their grave the constant hind 65
And plighted maid are seen ;
With garlands gay, and true-love knots
They deck the sacred green.
But, swain forsworn, whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd spot forbear ; 7°
Remember Colin's dreadful fate,
And fear to meet him there.
XVIII.
THE BOY AND THE MANTLE,
AS REVISED AND ALTERED BY A MODERN HAND.
|R. WARTON, in his ingenious Observatmis on Spenser,
has given his opinion, that the fiction of the Boy and
the Mantle is taken from an old French piece intitled
Le court mantel, (juoted by M. de St. Palaye in his
< ufK^u.^ Mcmoircs sur I'ancie/i/ie Clwralerie, Paris, 1759, 2 toni.
iznio., who tells us the story resembles that of Ariosto's inchanted
cup. Tis possible our English poet may have taken the hint of
this subject from that old French romance, but he does not ajjpear
to have copied it in the manner of execution ; to which (if one
3i6 THE BOY AND
may judge. from the specimen given in the Memoires) that of the
ballad does not bear the least resemblance. After all, 'tis most
likely that all the old stories concerning K. Arthur are originally
of British growth, and that what the French and other southern
nations have of this kind, were at first exported from this island.
See Memoires de VAcad. des Inscrip. torn. xx. p. 352.
(Since this volume was printed oif, the Fabliaux ou Contes, 1781,
5 tom. i2mo., of M. le Gra7id, have come to hand: and in tom. i.
p. 54, he hath printed a modern version of the old tale Le Court
Maiitel, under a new title Le Manteau inaltaille; which contains the
story of this ballad much enlarged, so far as regards the Mantle;
but without any mention of the Knife, or the LLorni)
[See book i. No, i, for the original of this ballad.]
N Carlelle dwelt king Arthur,
A prince of passing might ;
And there maintain'd his table round,
Beset with many a knight.
And there he kept his Christmas
With mirth and princely cheare.
When, lo ! a straunge and cunning boy
Before him did appeare.
A kirtle and a mantle
This boy had him upon,
With brooches, rings, and owches^
Full daintily bedone.
He had a sarke'^ of silk
About his middle meet ;
And thus, with seemly curtesy, 15
He did king Arthur greet.
\} bosses or buttons of gold. ^ shirt.]
10
THE MANTLE. 3]/
" God speed thee, brave king Arthur,
Thus feasting in thy bowre.
And Guenever thy goodly queen,
That fair and peerlesse flowre. • 20
" Ye gallant lords, and lordings,
I wish you all take heed.
Lest, what ye deem a blooming rose
Should prove a cankred weed."
Then straitway from his bosome 25-
A little wand he drew ;
And with it eke a mantle
Of wondrous shepe, and hew.
" Now have thou here, king Arthur,
Have this here of mee, 30
And give unto thy comely queen,
All-shapen as you see.
" No' wife it shall become.
That once hath been to blame."
Then every knight in Arthur's court 35
Slye glaunced at his dame.
And first came lady Guenever,
The mantle she must trye.
This dame, she was new-fangled.
And of a roving eye. 40
When she had tane the mantle,
And all was with it cladde,
From top to toe it shiver'd down.
As tho' with sheers beshradde.
One while it was too long, 4S
Another while too short,
And wrinkled on her shoulders
In most unseemly sort.
3i8 THE ^BOY AND
Now green, now red it seemed,
Then all of sable hue. 50
" Beshrew me, quoth king Arthur,
I think thou beest not true."
Down she threw the mantle,
Ne longer would not stay ;
But storming like a fury, 55
To her chamber flung away.
She curst the whoreson weaver.
That had the mantle wrought :
And doubly curst the froward impe,
Who thither had it brous^ht. 60
t>'
" I had rather live in desarts
Beneath the green-wood tree :
Than here, base king, among thy groomes,
The sport of them and thee."
Sir Kay call'd forth his lady, 65
And bade her to come near :
" Yet dame, if thou be guilty,
I pray thee now forbear."
This lady, pertly gigling,
With forward step came on, 70
And boldly to the little boy
With fearless face is gone.
When she had tane the mantle,
With purpose for to wear :
It shrunk up to her shoulder, 75
And left her b**side bare.
Then every merry knight,
That was in Arthur's court,
Gib'd, and laught, and flouted,
To see that pleasant sport. 80
THE MANTLE. 319
Down she threw the mantle,
No longer bold or gay,
But with a face all pale and wan,
To her chamber slunk away.
Then forth came an old knight, 85
A pattering o'er his creed ;
And proffer'd to the little boy
Five nobles to his meed ;
" And all the time of Christmass
Plumb-porridge shall be thine, 90
If thou wilt let my lady fair
Within the mantle shine."
A saint his lady seemed.
With step demure, and slow,
And gravely to the mantle 95
With mincing pace doth goe.
When she the same had taken,
That was so fine and thin.
It shrivell'd all about her,
And show'd her dainty skin. 100
Ah ! little did her mincing.
Or HIS long prayers bestead ;
She had no more hung on her,
Than a tassel and a thread.
Down she threwe the mantle, 105
With terror and dismay,
And, with a face of scarlet,
To her chamber hyed away.
Sir Cradock call'd his lady.
And bade her to come nearc :
" Come win this mantle, lady,
And do inc credit hen,-.
1 10
320 THE BOY AND
" Come win this mantle, lady,
For now it shall be thine,
If thou hast never done amiss, 1,5
Sith first I made thee mine."
The lady gently blushing,
With modest grace came on.
And now to trye this wondrous charm
Courageously is gone.
120
115
130
When she had tane the mantle,
And put it on her backe.
About the hem it seemed
To wrinkle and to cracke.
" Lye still, shee cried, O mantle !
And shame me not for nought,
I'll freely own whate'er amiss.
Or blameful I have wrought.
" Once I kist Sir Cradocke
Beneathe the green wood tree :
Once I kist Sir Cradocke's mouth
Before he married me."
When thus she had her shriven.
And her worst fault had told.
The mantle soon became her
Right comely as it shold.
Most rich and fair of colour,
Like gold it glittering shone :
And much the knights in Arthur's court
Admir'd her every one. 140
Then towards king Arthur's table
The boy he turn'd his eye :
Where stood a boar's-head garnished
With bayes and rosemarye.
135
THE MANTLE. 321
When thrice he o'er the boar's head 145
His httle wand had drawne,
Quoth he, " There's never a cuckold's knife,
Can carve this head of brawne."
Then some their whittles rubbed
On whetstone, and on hone : 150
Some threwe them under the table,
And swore that they had none.
Sir Cradock had a little knife
Of steel and iron made ;
And in an instant thro' the skull
He thrust the shinincr blade.
&
15s
He thrust the shining blade
Full easily and fast :
And every knight in Arthur's court
A morsel had to taste. 160
The boy brought forth a home,
All orolden was the rim :
Said he, " No cuckolde ever can
Set mouth unto the brim.
" No cuckold can this little home 165
Lift fairly to his head ;
But or on this, or that side,
He shall the liquor shed."
Some shed it on their shoulder.
Some shed it on their thigh ; 170
And hce that could not hit his mouth.
Was sure to hit his eye.
Thus he, that was a cuckold,
Was known of every man :
lUil Cradock Hfted easily, 175
And wan the golden can.
ISO
i8S
322 THE BOY AND
Thus boar's head, horn and mantle
Were this fair couple's meed :
And all such constant lovers,
God send them well to speed.
Then down in rage came Guenever,
And thus could spightful say,
" Sir Cradock's wife most wrongfully
Hath borne the prize away.
" See yonder shameless woman,
That makes herselfe so clean :
Yet from her pillow taken
Thrice five gallants have been.
" Priests, clarkes, and wedded men
Have her lewd pillow prest : 190
Yet she the wondrous prize forsooth
Must beare from all the rest."
Then bespake the little boy.
Who had the same in hold :
" Chastize thy wife, king Arthur, 195
Of speech she is too bold :
" Of speech she is too bold.
Of carriage all too free ;
Sir king, she hath within thy hall
A cuckold made of thee.
200
" All frolick light and wanton
She hath her carriage borne :
And given thee for a kingly crown
To wear a cuckold's home."
*
*^* The Rev. Evan Evans, editor of the specimens of Welsh
Poetry, 4to. affirmed that the Boy and the Mantle is taken from
what is related in some of the old Welsh MSS. of Tegan Earfron,
one of King Arthur's mistresses. She is said to have possessed a
mantle that would not fit any immodest or incontinent woman;
THE MANTLE. 323
this, (which, the old writers say, was reckoned among the curiosities
of Britain) is frequently alluded to by the old Welsh Bards.
Carlcilc, so often mentioned in the ballads of K. Arthur, the
editor once thought might probably be a corruption of Cacr-lcoii,
an ancient British city on the river Uske, in Monmouthshire, which
was one of the places of K. Arthur's chief residence ; but he is
now convinced, that it is no other than Carlisle, in Cumberland ;
the old English minstrels, being most of them northern men,
naturally represented the hero of romance as residing in the north :
And many of the places mentioned in the old ballads are still to
be found there : As Tcanie- Wadling, See.
Near Penrith is still seen a large circle, surrounded by a mound
of earth, which retains the name of Arthur's Round Table.
[For a full statement of the claims of the "North" to be con-
sidered as the home of King Arthur, see J. S. Stuart Glennie's
Essay on Arthurian Localities, in the edition of the Prose Romance
of Merlin, published by the Early English Text Society.]
XIX.
THE ANCIENT FRAGMENT OF THE
MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE.*
*HE second poem in this volume, intitled The Marriage
of Sir Gawaine, having been offered to the reader with
large conjectural supplements antl corrections, the old
fragment itself is here literally and exactly printed from
the editor's folio MS. with all its defects, inaccuracies, and errata;
that such austere antiquaries, as comj)lain that the ancient copies
have not been always rigidly adhered to, may see how unfit for
publication many of the pieces would have been, if all the blun-
ders, corruptions, and nonsense of illiterate reciters and transcribers
had been superstitiously retained, without some attempt to correct
and emend them.
This ballad had most unfortunately suffered by having half of
every leaf in this part of the MS. torn away ; and, as al)out nine
[Printed for the first time in the fourth edition.]
324 THE MARRIAGE OF
stanzas generally occur in the half page now remaining, it is con-
cluded, that the other half contained nearly the same number of
stanzas.
[The following poem is printed in Hales' and Furnivall's edition
of the MS., vol. i. p. 105.]
INGE Arthur lines in merry Carleile,
& seemely is to see,
& there he hath w*'' him Queene Genev"",
y* bride soe bright of blee.
And there he hath w*'' him Queene Genever,
y* bride soe bright in bower,
& all his barons about him stoode
y' were both stiffe & stowre.
The K. kept a royall Christmasse
of mirth & great honor,
& when ...
\_About Nine Stanzas 'wa?itmg.']
And bring me word what thing it is
y' a woman most desire,
this shalbe thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes
for He haue noe other hier.
K. Arthur then held vp his hand
according thene as was the law ;
he tooke his leaue of the baron there,
& homward can he draw.
And when he came to Merry Carlile,
to his chamber he is gone,
& ther came to him his Cozen S"" Gawaine
as he did make his mone.
And there came to him his Cozen S' Gawaine
y' was a curteous knight,
why sigh you soe sore vnckle Arthur, he said
or who hath done thee vnright.
O peace, o peace, thou gentle Gawaine,
y' faire may thee befifall,
for if thou knew my sighing soe deepe,
thou wold not meruaile att all ;
ffor when I came to tearne wadling,
a bold barron there I fand.
S/J^ GAWAINE. 325
w"' a great club vpon his backe,
standing stifle & strong ;
And he asked me wether I wold fight,
or from him I shold be gone,
o[r] else I must him a ransome pay
& soe dep't him from.
To fight w"' him I saw noe cause,
me thought it was not meet,
ftbr he was stifle & strong w"* all,
his strokes were nothing sweete.
Therfor this is my ransome, Gawaine
I ought to him to pay
I must come againe, as I am sworne,
vpon the Newyeers day.
And I must bring him word what thing it is
\_Aboui Ni7ie Statizas wa7iting.~\
Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde
in one soe rich array
toward the foresaid Teame wadling,
y' he might keepe his day.
And as he rode over a more,
hee see a lady where shee sate
betwixt an oke & a greene hollen' :
she was cladd in red scarlett.
Then there as shold have stood her mouth,
then there was sett her eye
the other was in her forhead fast
the way that she might see.
Her nose was crooked & turnd outward,
her mouth stood foule a wry;
a worse formed lady then shee was,
neuer man saw w"' his eye.
To halch'' vpon him, k. Arthur
this lady was full faine
but k. Arthur had forgott his lesson
what he shold say againe
[Miolly. '-'salute.]
^26 THE MARRIAGE OF
o
What knight art thou, the lady sayd,
that wilt not speake to me ?
of me be thou nothing dismayd
tho I be vgly to see ;
for I haue halched you curteouslye,
& you will not me againe,
yett I may happen S' knight, shee said
to ease thee of thy paine.
Giue thou ease me, lady, he said
or helpe me any thing,
thou shalt haue gentle Gawaine, my cozen
& marry him w*"" a ring.
Why, if I helpe thee not, thou noble k. Arthur
of thy owne hearts desiringe,
of gentle Gawaine ....
{About Nine Stmizas wanting?^
And when he came to the tearne wadling
the baron there cold he fimde*
w"' a great weapon on his backe,
standing stifife & stronge
And then he tooke k. Arthur's letters in his hands
& away he cold them fling,
& then he puld out a good browne sword,
& cryd himselfe a k.
And he sayd, I haue thee & thy land, Arthur
to doe as it pleaseth me,
for this is not thy ransome sure,
therfore yeeld thee to mee.
And then bespoke him noble Arthur,
& bad him hold his hands,
& give me leave to speake my mind
in defence of all my land.
He said as I came over a More,
I see a lady where shee sate
betweene an oke & a green hoUen ;
shee was clad in red scarlett ;
* Sic MS. = finde.
SIR GAWAINE. 327
And she says a woman will haue her will,
& this is all her cheefe desire :
doe me right as thou art a baron of sckill,
this is thy ransome & and all thy hyer.
He sayes an early vengeance light on her,
she walkes on yonder more ;
it was my sister that told thee this
& she is a misshappen hore.
But heer He make mine avow^ to god
to do her an euill turne,
for an euer I may thate fowle theefe get,
in a fyer I will her burne.
\^About Nine Stanzas icanfing.']
The 2d Part.
IR Lancelot! & s' Steven bold
they rode w"' them that day,
and the formost of the company
there rode the steward Kay,
Soe did S^ Banier & S"" Bore
S"" Garrett w'*" them soe gay,
soe did S'' Tristcram y' gentle k',
to the forrest fresh & gay
And when he came to the greene forrest
vndcmeath a greene holly tree
their sate that lady in red scarlet
y* vnseemly was to see.
S' Kay beheld this Ladys face,
& looked vppon her smire"'^
whosocuer kisses this lady, he sayes
of his kisse he standes in feare.
S' Kay beheld the lady againe,
& looked vjjon her snout,
whosoeuer kisses this lady, he saies,
of his kisse he stands in doubt.
[' my vow. ^ qy. for swire =• neck. J
328 THE MARRIAGE OF
Peace coz. Kay, then said S'' Gawaine
amend thee of thy Hfe ;
for there is a knight amongst us all
y' must marry her to his wife.
What, wedd her to wiffe, then said S"" Kay,
in the diuells name anon,
gett me a wiffe where ere I may,
for I had rather be slaine.
Then soome tooke vp their hawkes in hast
& some tooke vp their hounds,
& some sware they wold not marry her
for Citty nor for towne.
And then be spake him noble k. Arthur,
& sware there by this day,
for a litle foule sight and misliking
\Aboiit Nine Stanzas wanting.']
Then shee said choose thee gentle Gawaine,
truth as I doe say,
wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse
in the night or else in the day.
And then bespake him Gentle Gawaine,
w"* one soe mild of moode,
sayes, well I know what I wold say,
god grant it may be good.
To haue thee fowle in the night
when I w"" thee shold play;
yet I had rather, if I might
haue thee fowle in the day.
What, when Lords goe w"' ther seires,* shee said
both to the Ale & wine
alas then I must hyde my selfe,
I must not goe withinne.
And then bespake him gentle gawaine,
said, Lady thats but a skill ;
And because thou art my owne lady,
thou shalt haue all thy will.
* Sic in MS. ^xofeires, i. e. Mates.
S/R GAWAINE. 329
Then she said, blesed be thou gentle Gawain
this day y' I thee see,
for as thou see me att this time,
from hencforth I wilbe :
My father was an old knight,
& yett it chanced soe
that he marryed a younge lady
y' brought me to this woe.
Shee witched me, being a faire young Lady,
to the greene forrest to dwell,
& there I must walke in womans liknesse,
most like a feend of hell.
She witched my brother to a Carlist B . . . .
[Adouf Nine Stanzas wanting^
that looked soe foule & that was wont
on the wild more to goe.
Come kisse her, Brother Kay, then said S' Gawaine,
& amend the of thy liffe ;
I 'sweare this is the same lady
y' I marryed to my wiffe.
S' Kay kissed that lady bright,
standing vpon his ffeete ;
he swore, as he was trew knight,
the spice was neuer soe sweete.
Well, Coz. Gawaine, sayes S' Kay,
thy chance is fallen arright,
for thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids
I euer saw w"" my sight.
It is my fortune, said S' Gawaine ;
for my Vnckle Arthurs sake
I am glad as grasse wold be of raine,
great loy that I may take.
S' Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme,
S' Kay tooke her by the tothcr,
they led her straight to k. Arthur
as they were brother & brother.
330 MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE,
K. Arthur welcomed them there all,
& soe did lady Geneuer his queene,
w"" all the knights of the round table
most seemly to be seene.
K. Arthur beheld that lady faire
that was soe faire & bright,
he thanked christ in trinity
for S'' Gawaine that gentle knight ;
Soe did the knights, both more and lesse,
reioyced all that day
for the good chance y* hapened was
to S' Gawaine & his lady gay. Ffins.
THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK.
APPENDIX I.
THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH,
^<&>-
APPENDIX I.
THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH.
ROM an ancient copy in black-print, in the Pep)'s
Collection. Mr. Addison has pronounced this an
excellent ballad : see the Sptxtator, No, 248.
[This ballad was printed in the third volume of the first edition
of the Rdiqucs, Book ii. No. 12, but was afterwards expunged
by Percy. Professor Child gives the following references in
his collection of English and Scottish Ballads, vol. viii. p. 152 : —
" The same story circulates among the peasantry of England and
Scotland in the form of a penny tract or chap-book, Notices of
Popular Histories, p. 16, {Percy Soc. vol. xxiii.) ; Notes and Queries,
New Series, vol. iii. p. 49. This jest is an old one. Mr. Halli-
well refers to a fabliau in Barbazan's Collection, which contains
the groundwork of this piece, Du Vilain qui Coiiquist Paradis par
Plait, Meon's ed. iv. 114."]
N Bath a wanton wife did dwelle,
As Chaucer he doth write ;
Who did in pleasure spend her dayes ;
And many a fond dehght.
Upon a time sore sicke she was
And at the leni^th did dye ;
And tlien her soul at heaven gate,
Did knocke most mightilye.
334 THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH.
First Adam came unto the gate :
Who knocketh there? quoth hee lo
I am the wife of Bath, she sayd,
And faine would come to thee.
Thou art a sinner, Adam sayd.
And here no place shalt have.
And so art thou, I trowe, quoth shee, i s
' and eke a' doting knave.
I will come in, in spight, she sayd,
Of all such churles as thee ;
Thou wert the causer of our woe,
Our paine and misery ; 20
And first broke God's commandiments,
In pleasure of thy wife.
When Adam heard her tell this tale,
He ranne away for life.
Then downe came Jacob at the gate, 25
And bids her packe to hell,
Thou false deceiving knave, quoth she
Thou mayst be there as well.
For thou deceiv'dst thy father deare,
And thine own brother too. 30
Away ' slunk' Jacob presently,
And made no more adoo.
She knockes again with might and maine,
And Lot he chides her straite,
How now, quoth she, thou drunken ass, 35
Who bade thee here to prate ?
With thy two daughters thou didst lye,
On them two bastardes got.
And thus most tauntingly she chaft
Against poor silly Lot. 40
Ver. 16. Now gip you, P.
THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH. 335
Who calleth there, quoth Judith then,
With such shrill soundino: notes ?
This fine minkes surely came not here,
Ouoth she, for cuttinor throats.
Good Lord, how Judith blush'd for shame, 45
When she heard her say soe !
King David hearing of the same,
He to the gate would goe.
Ouoth David, who knockes there so loud,
And maketh all this strife ; 30
You were more kinde, good sir, she sayd,
Unto Uriah's wife.
And when thy servant thou didst cause
In battle to be slaine ;
Thou causedst far more strife than I, 55-
Who would come here so faine.
The woman's mad, quoth Solomon,
That thus doth taunt a king.
Not half so mad as you, she sayd,
I trowe in manye a thing. 60
Thou hadst seven hundred wives at once.
For whom thou didst provide ;
And yet God wot, three hundred whores
Thou must maintaine beside :
And they made thee forsake thy God, 65
And worship stockes and stones ;
I>esides the charge they put thee to
In breeding of young bones.
Hadst thou not bin In-side thy wits,
Thou wouldst n(jt thus have vcntur'd ; 70
And therefore I do marvel much,
How thou this place hast cnter'd.
336 THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH.
I never heard, quoth Jonas then,
So vile a scold as this.
Thou whore-son run-away, quoth she, 75
Thou diddest more amiss.
' They say,' quoth Thomas, women's tongues,
Of aspen-leaves are made.
Thou unbelieving wretch, quoth she,
All is not true that's sayd. 80
When Mary Magdalen heard her then,
She came unto the gate.
Quoth she, good woman, you must think
Upon your former state.
No sinner enters in this place 85
Quoth Mary Magdalene. Then
'Twere ill for you, fair mistress mine.
She answered her agen :
You for your honestye, quoth she.
Had once been ston'd to death ; 90
Had not our Saviour Christ come by,
And written on the earth.
It was not by your occupation.
You are become divine :
Ihope my soul in Christ his passion, 95
Shall be as safe as thine.
Uprose the good apostle Paul,
And to this wife he cryed.
Except thou shake thy sins away,
Thou here shalt be denyed. 100
Remember, Paul, what thou hast done,
All through a lewd desire :
How thou didst persecute God's church,
With wrath as hot as fire.
Ver. 77. I think, P.
THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH. ZZI
Then up starts Peter at the last, 105
And to the i^ate he hies :
Fond fool, quoth he, knock not so fast.
Thou weariest Christ with cries.
Peter, said she, content thyselfe,
For mercye may be won, no
I never did deny my Christ,
As thou thyselfe hast done.
When as our Saviour Christ heard this,
With heavenly angels bright,
He comes unto this sinful soul, 115
Who trembled at his siMit.
N3
Of him for mercye she did crave.
Ouoth he, thou hast refus'd
My proffer'd grace, and mercy both.
And much my name abus'd. i^o
Sore have I sinned. Lord, she sayd.
And spent my time in vaine,
But bring me like a wandring sheepe
Into thy Hocke againe.
0 Lord my God, I will amend i^s
My former wicked vice :
The thief for one poor silly word,
Past into Paradise.
My lawes and my commandments,
Saith Christ, were known to thee ; 1 30
But of the same in any wise,
Not yet one word did yee.
1 grant the same, (J L(jrd, (juoth she ;
Most lewdly did I live :
But yet the loving father did 135
His prodigal son forgive.
3 '-
338 THE WANTON WIFE OF BATH.
So I forgive thy soul, he sayd,
Through thy repenting crye ;
Come enter then into my joy,
I will not thee denye. 140
339
APPENDIX II.
ON THE ANCIENT METRICAL
ROMANCES, &c.
I.
'^^^^'^^^HE first attempts at composition among- all
barbarous nations are ever found to be
poetry and song. The praises of their
gods, and the achievements of their heroes,
are usually chanted at their festival meetings. These
are the first rudiments of history. It is in this
manner that the savages of North America preserve
the memory of past events (a) : and the same method
is known to have prevailed among our Saxon an-
cestors before they quitted their German forests {d).
The ancient Britons had their Bards, and the Gothic
nations their Scalds or popular poets {c), whose busi-
ness it was to record the victories of their warriors,
and the genealogies of their princes, in a kind of
narrative songs, which were committed to memory,
and delivered down from one reciter to another. So
long as poetry continued a distinct profession, and
{a) Vid. Lasileau, Moeurs de Sauvages, t. ii. Dr. Browne's Hist,
of the Rise and Progress of Poetry.
{b) " (jermani celebrant carminihus antiquis ((inod unum apud
illos memoriae et annalium genus est) I'uistoneni," &c. Tacit. (Jcnn.
*c. ii.
{c) Bartli. Antiq. Dan. lilj. i. cap. x. Wormii Literatura Ruiiica,
ad finem.
340 ON THE ANCIENT
while the Bard, or Scald, was a regular and stated
officer in the prince's court, these men are thought
to have performed the functions of the historian
pretty faithfully; for though their narrations would
be apt to receive a good deal of embellishment, they
are supposed to have had at the bottom so much of
truth as to serve for the basis of more regular annals.
At least succeeding historians have taken up with
the relations of these rude men, and for the want of
more authentic records, have agreed to allow them
the credit of true history {d).
After letters began to prevail, and history assumed
a more stable form, by being committed to plain
simple prose ; these songs of the Scalds or Bards
began to be more amusing than useful. And in pro-
portion as it became their business chiefly to enter-
tain and delight, they gave more and more into
embellishment, and set off their recitals with such
marvellous fictions, as were calculated to captivate
gross and ignorant minds. Thus began stories of
adventures with giants and dragons, and witches
and enchanters, and all the monstrous extravagances
of wild imagination, unguided by judgment, and un-
corrected by art {e).
This seems to be the true origin of that species of
romance, which so long celebrated feats of chivalry,
and which at first in metre, and afterwards in prose,
was the entertainment of our ancestors, in common
with their contemporaries on the continent, till the
satire of Cervantes, or rather the increase of know-
ledge and classical literature, drove them off the
{(i) See Northertt Antiquities, or a Description of the Manners,
Customs, dre., of the ancient Danes and other Northern Nations,
tra?islated from the Fr. of M. Mallet, 1770, 2 vols. 8vo. (vol. i.
p. 49, &c.)
if) Vid. infra, pp. 341, 342, &c.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 341
stage to make room for a more refined species of
fiction, under the name of French Romances, copied
from the Greek (_/).
That our old romances of chivalry may be derived
in a lineal descent from the ancient historical sonofs
of the Gothic Bards and Scalds, will be shown below,
and indeed appears the more evident, as many of
those songs are still preserved in the north, which
exhibit all the seeds of chivalry before it became a
solemn institution {g). " Chivalry, as a distinct mili-
\.2sy order, conferred in the way of investiture, and
accompanied with the solemnity of an oath, and
other ceremonies," was of later date, and sprung out
of the feudal constitution, as an elesfant writer has
clearly shown (//), But the ideas of chivalry pre-
vailed long before in all the Gothic nations, and may
be discovered as in embriyo in the customs, manners,
and opinions of every branch of that people (/).
That fondness of going in quest of adventures, that
spirit of challenging to single combat, and that re-
spectful complaisance shewn to the fair sex, (so
different from the manners of the Greeks and Ro-
mans), all are of Gothic origin, and may be traced
up to the earliest times among all the northern
nations (/-). These existed long before the feudal
ages, though they were called forth and strengthened
in a peculiar manner under that constitution, and at
lengtli arrived to their full maturity in the times
of the Crusades, so replete with romantic adven-
tures (/).
(/; Viz. Astraa, Cassandra, Clelia, &c.
ig) Mallet, vid. Northern Antiquities, vol. i. ]>. 3/8, (5cc. 3 vol. ii.
p. 234, &c.
• (//) Ij:tters concerning CJiivalry,Zvo. 1763.
(/) (/t) Mallet.
(/) The seeds of chivalry sprung up so naturally out of the
original manners and opinions of the northern nations, that it is
342 ON THE ANCIENT
Even the common arbitrary fictions of romance
were (as is hinted above) most of them famiHar to the
ancient Scalds of the North, long before the time of
the Crusades. They believed the existence of giants
and dwarfs {iri) ; they entertained opinions not unlike
the more modern notion of fairies {ii), they were
strongly possessed with the belief of spells and in-
chantment (<?), and were fond of inventing combats
with dragons and monsters (/).
The opinion therefore seems very untenable, which
some learned and ingenious men have entertained,
that the turn for chivalry, and the taste for that species
of romantic fiction were caught by the Spaniards
from the Arabians or Moors after their invasion of
Spain, and from the Spaniards transmitted to the
not credible they arose so late as after the establishment of the
Feudal System, much less the Crusades. Nor, again, that the
romances of chivalry were transmitted to other nations, through
the Spaniards, from the Moors and Arabians. Had this been the
case the first French romances of chivalry would have been on
Moorish, or at least Spanish subjects : whereas the most ancient
stories of this kind, whether in prose or verse, whether in Italian,
French, English, &c., are chiefly on the subjects of Charlemagne
and the Paladins, or of our British Arthur and his Knights of the
Round Table, &c., being evidently borrowed from the fabulous
chronicles of the supposed Archbishop Turpin and of Jeffery of
Monmouth. Not but some of the oldest and most popular French
romances are also on Norman subjects, as Richard Sans-peiir,
Robert le Viable, &c., whereas I do not recollect so much as one
in which the scene is laid in Spain, much less among the Moors,
or descriptive of Mahometan manners. Even in Amadis de Gaul,
said to have been the first romance printed in Spain, the scene is
laid in Gaul and Britain ; and the manners are French : which
plainly shews from what school this species of fabUng was learnt
and transmitted to the southern nations of Europe.
{ni) Mallet, North. Antiquities, vol. i. p. 36 ; vol. \\. passim.
(;/) Olaus Verelius, Herv. Saga, pp. 44, 45. Hickes's Tliesaur.
vol. ii. p. 311. Northern Antiquities, vol. n. passim.
{0) Ibid. vol. i. pp. 69, 374, &c.; vol. ii. p. 216, &c.
(/) Rollof's Saga, c. 35, &c.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 343
bards of Armorica (^), and thus diffused through
Britain, France, Italy, Germany, and the North.
F"or it seems utterly incredible, that one rude people
should adopt a peculiar taste and manner of writing
{(J) It is peculiarly unfortunate that such as maintain this opinion
are obliged to take their first step from the IMoorish provinces in
Spain, without one intermediate resting place, to Armorica or
Bretagne, the province in France from them most remote, not
more in situation than in the manners, habits, and language of its
Welsh inhabitants, which are allowed to have been derived from
this island, as must have been their traditions, songs, and fables ;
being doubtless all of Celtic original. See p. 3 of the Dissertation
on the Origin of Romantic Fiction in Europe, prefixed to Mr. Tho.
Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. i. 1774, 4to. If any pen
could have supported this darling hypothesis of Dr. Warburton
that of this ingenious critic would have effected it. But under the
general term Oriental, he seems to consider the ancient inhabitants
of the north and the south of Asia, as having all the same man-
ners, traditions, and fables ; and because the secluded people of
Arabia took the lead under the religion "and empire of Mahomet,
therefore everything must be derived from them to the Northern
Asiatics in the remotest ages, &c. With as much reason under
the word Occidental, we might represent the early traditions and
fables of the north and south of Europe to have been the same ;
and that the Gothic mythology of Scandinavia, the Druidic or
Celtic of Gaul and Britain, diftered not from the classic of Greece
and Rome.
There is not room here for a full examination of the minuter
arguments, or rather slight coincidences, by which our agreeable
dissertator endeavours to maintain and defend this favourite
opinion of Dr. W., who has been himself so completely confuted
by Mr. Tyrwhitt. (See his notes on Lovers Labour Lost, &c.)
But some of his positions it will be sufficient to mention: such as
the referring the Gog and Magog, which our old Christian bards
might have had from Scripture, to the Jaguiouge and Magiouge of
the Arabians and Persians, &:c. (p. 13). That "we may venture
to affirm that this (Geoffrey of Alonmouth's) Chronicle, supposed
to contain the ideas of the Welsh bards, entirely consists of Ara-
bian inventions" (p. 13), And that, "as Geoffrey's history is the
, grand repository of the acts of Arthur, so a fabulous history
a-scribcd to Turpin is the ground-work of all the chimerical legends
which have been related concerning the conquests of Charlemagne
and his twelve peers. Its subject is the expulsion of the Saracens
344 ON THE ANCIENT
or thinking from another, without borrowing at the
same time any of their particular stories and fables,
without appearing to know anything of their heroes,
history, laws, and religion. When the Romans be-
gan to adopt and imitate the Grecian literature, they
immediately naturalized all the Grecian fables, his-
tories, and religious stories ; which became as familiar
to the poets of Rome, as of Greece itself Whereas
all the old writers of chivalry, and of that species of
romance, whether in prose or verse, whether of the
Northern nations, or of Britain, France, and Italy,
not excepting Spain itself (r), appear utterly unac-
quainted with whatever relates to the Mahometan
from Spain, and it is filled with fictions evidently congenial to
those which characterize Geoffrey's History " (p. 17). That is, as
he afterwards expresses it, " lavishly decorated by the Arabian
fablers " (p. 58). We should hardly have expected that the Ara-
bian fablers would have been lavish in decorating a history of their
enemy : but what is singular, as an instance and proof of this
Arabian origin of the fictions of Turpin, a passage is quoted from
his fourth chapter, which I shall beg leave to offer, as affording
decisive evidence, that they could not possibly be derived from a
Mahometan source. Sc. " The Christians under Charlemagne are
said to have found in Spain a golden idol, or image of Mahomet,
as high as a bird can fly — it was framed by Mahomet himself of
the purest metal, who, by his knowledge in necromancy, had
sealed up within it a legion of diabolical spirits. It held in its
hand a prodigious club ; and the Saracens had a prophetic tradi-
tion, that this club should fall from the hand of the image in that
year when a certain king should be born in France, &c." {vid.
p. 18, note.)
(r) The little narrative songs on Morisco subjects, which the
Spaniards have at present in great abundance, and which they call
peculiarly romances, (see vol. i. book iii. no. xvi. &c,), have nothing
in common with their proper romances (or histories) of chivalry,
which they call Historias de CavaUerias ; these are evidently imi-
tations of the French, and shew a great ignorance of Moorish
manners : and with regard to the Morisco, or song romances, they
do not seem of very great antiquity ; few of them appear, from
their subjects, much earlier than the reduction of Granada, in the
fifteenth century : from which period, I believe, may be plainly
METRICAL ROMANCES. 345
nations. Thus with regard to their rehgion, they
constantly represent them as worshipping idols, as
paying adoration to a golden image of Mahomet, or
else they confound them with the ancient pagans,
&c. And indeed in all other respects they are so
grossly ignorant of the customs, manners, and opin-
ions of every branch of that people, especially of
';heir heroes, champions, and local stories, as almost
amounts to a demonstration that they did not imitate
tiiem in their songs or romances : for as to dragons,
serpents, necromancies, &c., why should these be
thought only derived from the floors in Spain so
late as after the eighth century ? since notions of
this kind appear too familiar to the northern Scalds,
and enter too deeply into all the northern mythology,
to hai^e been transmitted to the unlettered Scandi-
naviais, from so distant a country, at so late a
period If they may not be allowed to have brought
these opinions with them in their original migrations
from th» north of Asia, they will be far more likely
to have sorrowed them from the Latin poets after the
Roman «onquests in Gaul, Britain, Germany. &;c.
For, I btjieve one may challenge the maintainers
of this opnion, to produce any Arabian poem or
history, tha. could possibl)' have been then known in
Spain, whic; resembles the old Gothic romances of
chivalry hal". so much as the Metamorphoses of
Ovid.
But we weLknowthat the Scythian nations situate
in the countr^s aljout Pontus, Colchis, and the
Euxine sea, wre in all times infamous for their
magic arts : anc as Odin and his followers are said
to have come prcisely from those parts of Asia ; we
can readily accoiit for the prevalence of fictions of
traced among the Spa^sh writers, a more perfect knowledge of
Moorish customs, &c.
346 ON THE ANCIENT
this sort among the Gothic nations of the North,
without fetching them from the Moors in Spain ;
who for many centuries after their irruption, hved in
a state of such constant hostility with the unsubdued
Spanish Christians, whom they chiefly pent up in the
mountains, as gave them no chance of learning their
music, poetry, or stories ; and this, together with the
religious hatred of the latter for their cruel invaders,
will account for the utter ignorance of the old
Spanish romancers in whatever relates to the Ma-
hometan nations, although so nearly their ovn
neighbours.
On the other hand, from the local customs md
situations, from the known manners and opiniors of
the Gothic nations in the north, we can easih ac-
count for all the ideas of chivalry and its peculiar
fictions {s). For, not to mention their distinguished
respect for the fair sex, so different from the manners
of the Mahometan nations (/), their national ind do-
mestic history so naturally assumes all the wonders
of this species of fabling, that almost all tleir histo-
rical narratives appear regular romances. Cne might
refer in proof of this to the old northen Sagas in
general : but to give a particular instance it will be
sufficient to produce the history of Kng Regner
Lodbrog, a celebrated warrior and pirate, who reigned
in Denmark about the year 800 (2/). This hero
signalized his youth by an exploit of gallantry, A
Swedish prince had a beautiful daupiter whom he
intrusted (probably during some extedition) to the
care of one of his officers, assigning a strong castle
for their defence. The officer fell n love with his
ward, and detained her in his castb spite of all the
{s) See Northern Antiquities, passim. (0 Ibid.
(?/) Saxon Gram. p. 152, 153. MalK, Narth. Aiitiq. vol. i.
p. 321.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 347
efforts of her father. Upon this he pubHshed a pro-
.clamation throiio"h all the neicfhbourinof countries,
that whoever would conquer the ravisher and rescue
the lady should have her in marriage. Of all that
undertook the adventure, Regner alone was so happy
as to achieve it : he delivered the fair captive, and
obtained her for his prize. It happened that the
name of this discourteous officer was Orme, which in
the Islandic language signifies serpent: Wherefore
the Scalds, to give the more poetical turn to the ad-
venture, represent the lady as detained from her
father by a dreadful dragon, and that Regner slew
the monster to set her at liberty. This fabulous
account of the exploit is given in a poem still extant,
which is even ascribed to Regner himself, who was a
celebrated poet ; and which records all the valiant
achievements of his life {x).
With marvelous embellishments of this kind the
Scalds early began to decorate their narratives : and
they were the more lavish of these, in proportion as
they departed from their original institution, but it
was a long time before they thought of delivering a
set of personages and adventures wholly feigned.
Of the great multitude of romantic tales still pre-
served in the libraries of the North, most of them
are supposed to have had some foundation in truth,
and the more ancient they are, the more they are
believed to be connected with true history {y).
It was not probably till after the historian and the
bard had been long disunited, that the latter ven-
tured at pure fiction. At length when their business
was no longer to instruct or inform, but merely to
amuse, it was no longer needful for them to adhere
(j;) See a translation of this poem, among Five pieces of Runic
Poetry, printed for Dodslcy, 1764, Svo.
{y) Viil. Mallet, Northern AniiquitieSy i)assim.
348 ON THE ANCIENT
to truth. Then succeeded fabulous songs and ro-
mances in verse, which for a long time prevailed in
France and England before they had books of chi-
valry in prose. Yet in both these countries the
minstrels still retained so much of their original in-
stitution, as frequently to make true events the sub-
ject of their songs {z) ; and indeed, as during the
barbarous ages, the regular histories were almost all
written in Latin by the monks, the memory of events
was preserved and propagated among the ignorant
laity by scarce any other means than the popular
songs of the minstrels.
II. The inhabitants of Sweden, Denmark, and
Norway, being the latest converts to Christianity,
retained their original manners and opinions longer
than the other nations of Gothic race : and there-
fore they have preserved more of the genuine com-
positions of their ancient poets, than their southern
neighbours. Hence the progress, among them, from
poetical history to poetical fiction is very discernible :
they have some old pieces, that are in effect com-
plete Romances of Chivalry (^). They have also
(as hath been observed) a multitude of Sagas (^) or
histories on romantic subjects, containing a mixture
of prose and verse, of various dates, some of them
written since the times of the Crusades, others long
before : but their narratives in verse only are esteemed
the more ancient.
(s) The editor's MS. contains a multitude of poems of this
latter kind. It was probably from this custom of the minstrels
that some of our first historians wrote their chronicles in verse, as
Rob. of Gloucester, Harding, &c.
{a) See a specimen in 2d vol. of Northern Antiquities, &c.,
p. 248, &c.
{b) Eccardi Hist. Stud. Ety?n. 171 1, p. 179, &c, Hickes's
Thesaur. vol. ii. p. 314.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 349
Now as the irruption of the Normans {c) into
France under Rollo did not take place till towards
the beginning- of the tenth century, at which time
the Scaldic art was arrived to the highest perfection
in Rollo's native country, we can easily trace the
descent of the French and English romances of
chivalr)^ from the Northern Sagas. That conqueror
doubtless carried many Scalds with him from the
north, who transmitted their skill to their children
and successors. These adopting the religion, opi-
nions, and language of the new country, substituted
the heroes of Christendom instead of those of their
pagan ancestors, and began to celebrate the feats of
Charlemagne, Roland, and Oliver ; whose true his-
tory^ they set off and embellished with the Scaldic
figments of dwarfs, giants, dragons, and enchant-
ments. The first mention we have in song- of those
heroes of chivalry is in the mouth of a Norman
warrior at the conquest of England {d) : and this
circumstance alone would sufficiently account for
the propagation of this kind of romantic poems
amoncr the French and Enq-lish.
But this is not all ; it is very certain, that both
the Ancrlo-Saxons and the Franks had brouofht with
them, at their first emigrations into Britain and Gaul,
the same fondness for the ancient sonars of their an-
cestors, which prevailed among the other Gothic
tribes (c), and that all tlicir first annals were trans-
mitted in these popular oral poems. This fondness
they even retained long after their conversion to
Christianity, as we learn from the examples of
(c) i.e. Northern men, l^eing chiefly emigrants from Norway,
JJcnmark, &c.
. {(i) .See the account of Taillefer in vol. i. Essay, and Note.
{c) " Ipsa Cannina mcmorirt; uKindabant, <S: jiro-'lia initiiri dccan-
tahant ; (jua mcnioria tani forliuni gcstorinn a majuribus jxiUa-
turum ad imitalionem animus addcTctnT."^/omam/es de Gothis.
350 ON THE ANCIENT
Charlemagne and Alfred (/"). Now poetry, being
thus the transmitter of facts, would as easily learn
to blend them with fictions in France and England,
as she is known to have done in the north, and that
much sooner, for the reasons before assigned (^).
This, together with the example and influence of
the Normans, will easily account to us, why the
first romances of chivalry that appeared both in
England and France (//) were composed in metre,
as a rude kind of epic songs. In both kingdoms
tales in verse were usually sung by minstrels to
the harp on festival occasions : and doubtless both
nations derived their relish for this sort of entertain-
ment from their Teutonic ancestors, without either
of them borrowing it from the other. Among both
people narrative songs on true or fictitious subjects
had evidently obtained from the earliest times. But
the professed romances of chivalry seem to have
been first composed in France, where also they had
their name.
The Latin tongue, as is observed by an ingenious
(/") Eginhartus de Carolo magna. " Item barbara, & anti-
quissima carmina, quibus veterum regum actus & bella canebantur,
scripsit." — c. 29.
Asserius de yElfredo magna. " Rex inter bella, &c
Saxonicos libros recitare, & maxime carmina Saxanica memoriter
discere, aliis imperare, & solus assidue pro viribus, studiosissime
non desinebat." — Ed. 1722, 8vo. p. 43.
ig) See above, pp. 340, 347.
{h) The romances on the subject of Perceval, San Graal,
Lancelot du Lac, Tristan, &c., were among the first that appeared
in the French language in prose, yet these were originally com-
posed in metre : the editor has in his possession a very old French
MS. in verse, containing L'aficien Raman de Perceval, and metrical
copies of the others may be found in the libraries of the curious.
See a note of Wanley's in Harl. Catalog. Num. 2252, p. 49, &c.
Nicholson's Eng. Hist. Library, 3rd ed. p. 91, &c. See also a
curious collection of old French romances, with Mr. Wanley's
account of this sort of pieces, in Harl. AfSS. Catal. 978, 106.
METRICAL ROMANCES. x'^i
JD
•writer (/), ceased to be spoken in France about the
ninth century, and was succeeded by what was called
the Romance tonorue, a mixture of the lan(juafre of
the Franks and bad Latin. As the songs of chivalry
became the most popular compositions in that lan-
guage, they were emphaticall)' called Romans or Ro-
mants ; though this name was at first given to any
piece of poetry. The romances of chivalry can be
traced as early as the eleventh century (/'). I know
not if the Roman de Brut written in 1 155, was such :
but if it was, it was by no means the first poem of
the kind; others more ancient are still extant(/).
And we have already seen, that, in the preceding
century, when the Normans marched dowm to the
battle of Hastings, they animated themselves, by
singing (in some popular romance or ballad) the
exploits of Roland and the other heroes of chi-
valry (w).
So early as this I cannot trace the songs of chivalry
in English,' The most ancient I have seen, is that
(/) The author of the Essay on the Genius of Pope, p. 282.
{k) Ibid. p. 283. Hist. Lit. torn. 6, 7.
(/) Voir Preface aux " Fabliaux & Contes des Poetes Francois
des xii. xiii. xiv. & xv, sil'cles, &c., Paris, 1756, 3 torn. i2mo." (a
very curious work).
(w) Vid. supra, note {d), vol. i. Essay, &c. Et vide Rapin,
Carte, &c. This song of Roland (whatever it was) continued for
some centuries to be usually sung by the French in their marches,
if we may believe a modem French writer. " Un jour qu'on
chantoit la Chanson dc Roland, comme c'etoit I'usage dans les
marches. II y a long temps, dit il (John K. of France, who died
in 1364), qu'on ne voit plus de Rolands parmi les Fran(;ois. On
y verroit encore des Rolands, lui repondit un vieux capitaine,
s'ils avoient un Charlemagne h. leur tete." Vid. tom. iii. p. 202,
des Essaies Hist, sur ]\iris, dc Af. dc Saintefoix : who gives as his
authority, lioethius in Hist. Scotorum. This author, however,
speaks of the complaint and repartee, as made in an Assembly of
the States {I'ocato senatu), and not upon any march, I'tc. Vid.
lioeth. lib. XV. fol. 327. I'^d. Paris, 1574.
352 ON THE ANCIENT
of Hornechild described below, which seems not
older than the twelfth century. However, as this
rather resembles the Saxon poetry than the French,
it is not certain that the first English romances were
translated from that language.* We have seen above,
that a propensity to this kind of fiction prevailed
among all the Gothic nations (;z); and, though after
the Norman Conquest, this country abounded wi h
French romances, or with translations from the
French, there is good reason to believe, that the
English had original pieces of their own.
The stones of King Arthur and his Round Table,
may be reasonably supposed of the growth of this
island ; both the French and the Armoricans pro-
bably had them from Britain (^). The stories of Guy
and Bevis, with some others, were probably the
invention of English minstrels (/). On the other
hand, the English procured translations of such
romances as were most current in France ; and in
the list given at the conclusion of these remarks,
many are doubtless of French original.
* See on this subject, vol. i. note, s. 2, p. 404; and in note
G g, p. 424, &c.
(;/) The first romances of chivahy among the Germans were ni
metre : they have some very ancient narrative songs (which they
call Lieder) not only on the fabulous heroes of their own country,
but also on those of France and Britain, as Tristram, Arthur,
Gawain, and the knights von der Tafel-ronde {vid. Goldasti Not. in
Eginhart. Vit. Car. Mag. 4to. 1711, p. 207.)
{0) The Welsh have still some very old romances about K.
Arthur ; but as these are in prose, they are not probably their first
pieces that were composed on that subject.
{p) It is most credible that these stories were originally of
English invention, even if the only pieces now extant should be
found to be translations from the French. What now pass for the
French originals were probably only amplifications, or enlarge-
ments of the old Enghsh story. That the French romances bor-
rowed some things from the English, appears from the word
termaga7it.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 353
The first prose books of chivalry that appeared in
our language, were those printed by Caxton (</) ; at
least, these are the first I have been able to dis-
cover, and these are all translations from the French.
Whereas romances of this kind had been long cur-
rent in metre, and were so generally admired in the
time of Chaucer, that his rhyme of Sir Thopas was
evidently written to ridicule and burlesque them(;').
He expressly mentions several of them by name
in a stanza, which I have had occasion to quote more
than once in this volume :
" Men speken of Romaunces of pris
Of Horn-Child, and of Ipotis
Of Bevis, and Sire Guy
Of Sire Libeux, and Pleindamour,
But Sire Thopas, he bereth the flour
Of real chevalrie " {s).
Most, if not all of these are still extant in MS. in
some or other of our libraries, as I shall shew in the
conclusion of this slight essay, where I shall give a
list of such metrical histories and romances as have
fallen under my observation.
As many of these contain a considerable portion
of poetic merit, and throw great light on the manners
and opinions of former times, it were to be wished
that some of the best of them were rescued from
{(]) Recuyd of the Hy story cs of Troy, 1471 ; Godfroye of Boloyne,
1481 ; Le Morte de Arthur, 1485 ; The Life of Charlcmai:;nc, 1485,
&c. As the old minstrelsy wore out, prose books of chivalry
became more admired, especially after the Spanish romances began
to be translated into English towards the end of Q. Elizabeth's
reign : then the most popular metrical romances began to be
reduced into prose, as Sir Guy, Jnn'is, &c.
{r) Sec extract from a letter, written by the editor of these
.volumes, in Mr. Warton's Obscnnitions, vol. ii. p. 139.
{s) Canterbury Tales (Tyrwhitt's edit.), vol. ii. p. 238. In all
the former editions wliich I have seen the name at the end of the
fourth line is Blandamoure.
% A A
354 ON THE ANCIENT
oblivion. A judicious collection of them accurately
published with proper illustrations, would be an im-
portant accession to our stock of ancient English
literature. Many of them exhibit no mean attempts
at epic poetry, and though full of the exploded fictions
of chivalry, frequently display great descriptive and
inventive powers in the bards, who composed them.
They are at least generally equal to any other poetry
of the same age. They cannot indeed be put in
competition with the nervous productions of so uni-
versal and commanding a genius as Chaucer, but
they have a simplicity that makes them be read with
less interruption, and be more easily understood :
and they are far more spirited and entertaining than
the tedious allegories of Gower, or the dull and
prolix legends of Lydgate. Yet, while so much
stress was laid upon the writings of these last, by
such as treat of English poetry, the old metrical
romances, though far more popular in their time,
were hardly known to exist. But it has happened
unluckily, that the antiquaries, who have revived the
works of our ancient writers, have been for the most
part men void of taste and genius, and therefore have
always fastidiously rejected the old poetical romances,
because founded on fictitious or popular subjects,
while they have been careful to grub up every petty
fragment of the most dull and insipid rhymist, whose
merit it was to deform morality, or obscure true history.
Should the publick encourage the revival of some
of those ancient epic songs of chivalry, they would
frequently see the rich ore of an Ariosto or a Tasso,
though buried it may be among the rubbish and
dross of barbarous times.
Such a publication would answer many important
uses : It would throw new light on the rise and pro-
gress of English poetry, the history of which can be
but imperfectly understood, if these are neglected :
METRICAL ROMANCES. 355
It would also serve to illustrate innumerable passages
in our ancient classic poets, which without their help
must be for ever obscure. For, not to mention
Cliaucer and Spencer, who abound with perpetual
allusions to them, I shall give an instance or two
from Shakespeare, by way of specimen of their use.
In his play oi King yoJin our great dramatic poet
alludes to an exploit of Richard I. which the reader
will in vain look for in any true history. Faulcon-
bridgc says to his mother, act i. sc. i.
" Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose . . .
Against whose furie and unmatched force,
The awlesse lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keepe his princely heart from Richard's hand :
He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts
May easily winne a woman's : "
The fact here referred to, is to be traced to its
source only in the old romance of Richard Ceur de
Lyon{t), in which his encounter with a lion makes a
very shining figure. I shall give a large extract from
this poem, as a specimen of the manner of these old
rhapsodists, and to shew that they did not in their
fictions neglect the proper means to produce the
ends, as was afterwards so childishly done in the
prose books of chivalry.
The poet tells us, that Richard, in his return from
the Holy Land, having been discovered in the habit
of " a palmer in Almayne," and apprehended as a
spy, was by the king thrown into prison. Wardrewe,
the king's son, hearing of Richard's great strength,
desires the jailor to let him have a sight of his pri-
soners. Richard being the foremost, Wardrewe asks
(/) Dr. Grey has shewn that the same story is alluded to in
Rastell's Chronicle: as it was doubtless originally had from the
romance, this is proof that the old metrical romances throw light
on our first writers in ])rose : many of our ancient historians have
recorded the fictions of romant e.
356 ON THE ANCIENT
him, " If he dare stand a buffet from his hand ?" and
that on the morrow he shall return him another.
Richard consents, and receives a blow that staggers
him. On the morrow, having previously waxed his
hands, he waits his antagonist's arrival. Wardrewe
accordingly, proceeds the story, *' held forth as a
trewe man," and Richard gave him such a blow on
the cheek, as broke his jaw-bone, and killed him on
the spot. The king, to revenge the death of his son,
orders, by the advice of one Eldrede, that a lion,
kept purposely from food, shall be turned loose upon
Richard. But the king's daughter having fallen in
love with him, tells him of her father's resolution,
and at his request procures him forty ells of white
silk " kerchers ; " and here the description of the
combat begins :
" The kever-chefes (//) he toke on honde,
And aboute his arme he wonde ;
And thought in that ylke while,
To slee the lyon with some gyle.
And syngle in a kyrtyll he stode,
And abode the lyon fyers and wode,
With that came the jaylere.
And other men that wyth him were,
And the lyon them amonge ;
His pawes were stiffe and stronge.
The chambre dore they undone,
And the lyon to them is gone.
Rycharde sayd, Helpe lorde Jesu !
The lyon made to hym venu.
And wolde hym have all to rente :
Kynge Rycharde besyde hym glente(z')
The lyon on the breste hym spurned,
That aboute he toumed.
The lyon was hongry and megre,
And bette his tayle to be egre ;
He loked aboute as he were madde ;
Abrode he all his pawes spradde.
ill) i.e. handkerchiefs. Here we have the etymology of the
word, viz, Couvre le Chef''' (v) i.e. slipt aside.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 357
He ctyed lowde, and yaned (71') wyde.
K)-nge Rychardc bethought hym that tyde
What hym was beste, and to hym sterte,
In at the throte his honde he gerte,
And hente out the herte with his honde,
Lounge and all that he there fonde.
The l)on fell deed to the grounde :
Rycharde felte no wem (a-), ne woundc.
He fell on his knees on that place,
And thanked Jesu of his grace."
*****
What follows is not so well, and therefore I shall
extract no more of this poem. — For the above feat
the author tells us, the king was deservedly called
" Stronge Rycharde Cure de Lyowne."
That distich which Shakespeare puts in the mouth
of his madman in K. Lear, act iii. sc. 4.
" Mice and Rats and such small deere
Have been Tom's food for seven long yeare,"
has excited the attention of the critics. Instead of
dccre, one of them would substitute ^<:<?;'; and another
ckcer[y). But the ancient reading is established by
the old romance of Sir Bevis, which Shakespeare
had doubtless often heard sung to the harp. This
distich is part of a description there given of the
hardships suffered by Bevis, when confined for seven
years in a dungeon :
" Rattes and myse and such small dere
Was his meate that seven yere." — Sign. F. iii.
III. In different parts of this work, the reader
will find various extracts from these old poetical
legends ; to which I refer him for farther examples
of their style and metre. 'J'o comj)lete this subject,
(lo) i.c. yaw-ned. (,v) i.e. hurt.
{y) Dr. Warburton. — Dr. Grey,
358 ON THE ANCIENT
it will be proper at least to give one specimen of
their skill in distributing and conducting their fable,
by which it will be seen that nature and common
sense had supplied to these old simple bards the
want of critical art, and taught them some of the
most essential rules of epic poetry. — I shall select
the romance of Libius Disconms{a), as being one of
those mentioned by Chaucer, and either shorter or
more intelligible than the others he has quoted.
If an epic poem may be defined, (^)" A fable re-
lated by a poet, to excite admiration, and inspire
virtue, by representing the action of some one hero,
favoured by heaven, who executes a great design, in
spite of all the obstacles that oppose him :" I know
not why we should withold the name of Epic Poem
from the piece which I am about to analyse.
My copy is divided into IX. Parts or Cantos, the
several arguments of which are as follows.
Part I.
Opens with a short exordium to bespeak attention :
the hero is described ; a natural son of Sir Gawain a
celebrated knight of king Arthur's court, who being
brought up in a forest by his mother, is kept ignorant
of his name and descent. He early exhibits marks
of his courage, by killing a knight in single combat,
who encountered him as he was hunting. This in-
spires him with a desire of seeking adventures : there-
fore cloathing himself in his enemy's armour, he goes
to K. Arthur's court, to request the order of knight-
hood. His request granted, he obtains a promise
{a) So it is intitled in the editor's MS. But the true title is Le
Beaux Disconus, or the Fair Unknown. See a note on the Canter-
bury Talcs, vol. iv. p. 333.
ip) Vid. Discours sur la Poesie Epique, prefixed to Tclcmaquc.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 359
of havlnor the first adventure assigned him that shall
offer. — A damsel named Ellen, attended by a dwarf,
comes to implore K. Arthur's assistance, to rescue a
young princess, " the Lady of Sinadone" their mis-
tress, who is detained from her rights, and confined
in prison. The adventure is claimed by the young
knight Sir Lybius : the king assents ; the messengers
are dissatisfied, and object to his youth; but are
forced to acquiesce. And here the first book closes
with a description of the ceremony of equipping him
forth.
Part II.
Sir Lybius sets out on the adventure: he is derided
by the dwarf and the damsel on account of his youth :
they come to the bridge of Perill, which none can
pass without encountering a knight called William
de la Braunch. Sir Lybius is challenged : they just
with their spears : De la Braunch is dismounted :
the battle 4s renewed on foot : Sir William's sword
breaks : he yields. Sir Lybius makes him swear to
go and present himself to K. Arthur, as the first-
fruits of his valour. The conquered knight sets out
for K.Arthur's court : is met by three knights, his kins-
men ; who, informed of his disgrace, vow revenge, and
pursue the conqueror. The next day they overtake
him : the eldest of the three attacks Sir Lybius ; but
is overthrown to the ground. The two other brothers
assault him : Sir Lybius is wounded ; yet cuts off
the second brother's arm : the third yields ; Sir
Lybius sends them all to K. Arthur. In the third
evening he is awaked by the dwarf, who has dis-
covered a fire in the wood.
Part III.
Sir Lybius arms himself, and leaps on horseback:
he finds two giants roasting a wild boar, who have
36o ON THE ANCIENT
a fair lady their captive. Sir Lybius, by favour of
the night, runs one of them through with his spear :
is assaulted by the other : a fierce battle ensues : he
cuts off the giant's arm, and at length his head. The
rescued lady (an Earl's daughter) tells him her
story ; and leads him to her father's castle ; who
entertains him with a great feast ; and presents him
at parting with a suit of armour and a steed. He
sends the giant's head to K. Arthur.
Part IV.
Sir Lybius, maid Ellen, and the dwarf, renew their
journey : they see a castle stuck round with human
heads ; and are informed it belongs to a knight called
Sir Gefferon, who, in honour of his lemman or mis-
tress, challenges all comers : He that can produce a
fairer lady, is to be rewarded with a milk-white
faulcon, but if overcome, to lose his head. Sir
Lybius spends the night in the adjoining town : In
the morning goes to challenge the faulcon. The
knights exchange their gloves : they agree to just
in the market place : the lady and maid Ellen
are placed aloft in chairs : their dresses : the supe-
rior beauty of Sir Gefferon's mistress described :
the ceremonies previous to the combat. They en-
gage : the combat described at large : Sir Gefferon
is incurably hurt ; and carried home on his shield.
Sir Lybius sends the faulcon to K. Arthur ; and
receives back a large present in florins. He stays
40 days to be cured of his wounds, which he spends
in feasting with the neighbouring lords.
Part V.
Sir Lybius proceeds for Sinadone : in the forest
he meets a knio^ht huntinor, called Sir Otes de Lisle :
maid Ellen charmed with a very beautiful dog, begs
METRICAL ROMANCES. -.61
O'
Sir Lybius to bestow him upon her : Sir Otes meets
them, and claims his doer : is refused : beino; un-
armed he rides to his castle, and summons his fol-
lowers : they go in quest of Sir Lybius : a battle
ensues : he is still victorious, and forces Sir Otes to
follow the other conquered knights to K. Arthur.
Part VI.
Sir Lybius comes to a fair city and castle by a
riverside, beset round with pavilions or tents : he is
informed, in the castle is a beautiful lady besieged
by a giant named Maugys, who keeps the bridge,
and will let none pass without doing him homage :
this Lybius refuses : a battle ensues : the giant de-
scribed : the several incidents of the battle ; which
lasts a whole summer's day ; the giant is wounded :
put to flight ; slain. The citizens come out in pro-
cession to meet their deliverer : the lady invites him
into her castle : falls in love with him ; and seduces
him to her embraces. He forgets the princess of
Sinadone, and stays with this bewitching lady a
twelvemonth. This fair sorceress, like another
Alcina, intoxicates him with all kinds of sensual
pleasure ; and detains him from the pursuit of
honour.
Part VH.
I\Laid Ellen by chance gets an opportunity of
speaking to him ; and ujjbraids him with his vice
and folly : he is filled with remorse, and escapes
the same evening. At length he arrives at the
city and castle of Sinadone : Is given to uiuler-
stand that he must challenge the constable of the
castle to single combat, before he can be n.-ceived
as a guest. They just : the constable is worsted :
.Sir Lybius is feasted in the castle : he declares his
362 ON THE ANCIENT
intention of delivering their lady ; and inquires the
particulars of her history. " Two necromancers have
built a fine palace by sorcery, and there keep her in-
chanted, till she will surrender her duchy to them,
and yield to such base conditions as they would
impose."
Part VIII.
Early on the morrow Sir Lybius sets out for the
inchanted palace. He alights in the court : enters
the hall : the wonders of which are described in
strong Gothic painting. He sits down at the high
table : on a sudden all the lights are quenched : it
thunders, and lightens ; the palace shakes ; the walls
fall in pieces about his ears. He is dismayed and
confounded : but presently hears horses neigh, and
is challenged to single combat by the sorcerers.
He gets to his steed : a battle ensues, with various
turns of fortune : he loses his weapon ; but gets a
sword from one of the necromancers, and wounds
the other with it : the edge of the sword being
secretly poisoned, the wound proves mortal.
Part IX.
He goes up to the surviving sorcerer, who is car-
ried away from him by inchantment : at length he
finds him, and cuts off his head ; he returns to the
palace to deliver the lady ; but cannot find her : as
he is lamenting, a window opens, through which
enters a horrible serpent with wings and a woman's
face : it coils round his neck and kisses him ; then
is suddenly converted into a very beautiful lady.
She tells him she is the Lady of Sinadone, and was
so inchanted, till she might kiss Sir Gawain, or some
one of his blood : that he has dissolved the charm,
and that herself and her dominions may be his re-
METRICAL ROMANCES. -,6
O^J
ward. The knight (whose descent is by this means
discovered) joyfully accepts the offer ; makes her his
bride, and then sets out with her for King Arthur's
court.
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 senti-
ments, 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 barbarous
unpolished language.
IV. I shall conclude this prolix account, with a
list of such old metrical romances as are still extant ;
beginning with those mentioned by Chaucer.
I. The romance of Home Childe is preserved in
the British Museum, where it is intitled J^e jeste of
kyng Home. See Catalog. Harl. MSS. 2253, p. 70.
The language is almost Saxon, yet from the mention
in it of Sarazens, it appears to have been written
after some of the Crusades. It bec^ins thus :
'to'
" AH heo ben bly|)e
))at to my song ylyjje :
A sonj ychulle ou sing
Of AUof fe 5ode kynje," {a) &c.
Another copy of this poem, but greatly altered,
and somewhat modernized, is preserved in the Ad-
vocates Library at Edinburgh, in a MS. quarto volume
of old English poetry [W. 4. i.] Num. XXXIV. in
seven leaves or folios ((^), intitled, Iloni-cJiild and
Maiden Rinivel, and beginning thus :
(<7) i.e. May all they be blithe that to my song listen : A song
*I shall you sing, Of AUof the good king, &c.
{b) In each full page of this volume are forty-four lines, when the
poem is in long metre : and eighty-eight when the metre is short,
and the page in two columns.
364 ON THE ANCIENT
" Mi leve frende dere,
Herken and ye may here."
2. The poem of Ipotis (or Ypotis) is preserved in
the Cotton Library, Calig. A. 2, fo. "]"], but is rather
a religious legend, than a romance. Its beginning is,
" He pat wyll of wysdome here
Herkeneth nowe ye may here
Of a tale of holy wryte
Seynt Jon the Evangelyste vvytnesseth hyt."
3. The romance of Sir Guy was written before
that of Bevis, being quoted in it(^). An account of
this old poem is given above, p. 107. To which it
may be added, that the two complete copies in MS.
are preserved at Cambridge, the one in the public
library ((7^), the other in that of Caius College, Class
A. 8. — In Ames's Typog. p. 153, may be seen the
first lines of the printed copy. — The first MS.
begins,
" Sythe the tyme that God was borne."
4. Guy and Colbronde, an old romance in three
parts, is preserved in the Editor's folio MS. (p. 349.)
[printed edition, vol. ii. p. 527.] It is in stanzas of
six lines, the first of which may be seen in vol. ii. p.
175, beginning thus :
" When meate and drinke is great plenty e."
In the Edinburgh MS. (mentioned above) are two
ancient poems on the subject of Gtiy of Warwick :
viz. Num. XVIII. containing 26 leaves, and XX.
59 leaves. Both these have unfortunately the be-
(c) Sign. K. 2. b.
(d) For this and most of the following, which are mentioned as
preserved in the Public Library, I refer the reader to the Oxon
Catalogue of MSS., 1697, vol. ii. p. 394; in Appendix to Bp.
More's MSS. No. 690, 33, since given to the University of Cam-
bridge.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 365
glnnings wanting, otherwise they would perhaps be
found to be different copies of one or both the pre-
ceding articles.
5. From the same MS. I can add another article
to this list, viz. the romance of Revibnin son of Sir
Guy ; being Num. XXI. in 9 leaves : this is properly
a continuation of the History of Guy : and in Art. 3,
the Hist, of Rembrun follows that of Guy as a neces-
sary part of it. This Edinburgh romance of Rem-
brun befjins thus :
" Jesu that erst of mighte most
Fader and sone and Holy Ghost."
Before I quit the subject of Sir Guy, I must ob-
serve, that if we may believe Dugdale in his Baroti-
agc (vol. i. p. 243, col. 2), the fame of our English
Champion had in the time of Henry IV. travelled as
far as the East, and was no less popular among the
Sarazens, than here in the West among the nations
of Christendom. In that reign a Lord Beauchamp
travelling to Jerusalem was kindly received by a
noble person, the Soldan's Lieutenant, who hearing
he was descended from the famous Guy of Warwick,
" whose story they had in books of their own lan-
guage," invited him to his palace ; and royally feast-
ing him, presented him three precious stones of great
value, besides divers cloaths of silk and gold given to
his servants.
6. The romance of Syr Bcvis is described in page
2 16 of this vol. Two manuscript copies of this poem
are extant at Cambridge, viz., in the public library
{c), and in that of Caius Coll. Class A. 9. (5.) — The
first of these begins,
" I^rdyngs lystenyth grcte and smale."
((•; iNo. O90, ^ 31. Vid. Culiiio;^. ALSS. \). y)^.
c;66 ON THE ANCIENT
o
There Is also a copy of this romance of Sir Bevis
of Hamptoun, in the Edinburgh MS. Numb. XXII.
consisting of twenty-five leaves, and beginning thus :
" Lordinges herkneth to mi tale,
Is merier than the nightengale."
The printed copies begin different from both, viz.,
" Lysten, Lordinges, and hold you styl."
7. Libeaux (Libeaus, or Lybius) Disconius is pre-
served in the Editor's folio MS. (page 317) [pr. ed.
vol. ii. p. 415], where the first stanza is,
*' Jesus Christ christen kinge,
And his mother that sweete thinge,
Helpe them at their neede.
That will listen to my tale,
Of a Knight I will you tell,
A doughtye man of deede."
An older copy is preserved in the Cotton Library
(Calig. A. 2. fob 40) but containing such innumerable
variations, that it is apparently a different translation
of some old French original, which will account for
the tide of Le Beaux Discomis, or the Fair Unknown.
The first line is,
" Jesu Christ our Savyour."
As for Pleindamour, or Blajtdamoure, no romance
with this title has been discovered ; but as the word
Blaimde77iere occurs in the romance of Libius Dis-
conius, in the Editor's folio MS. p. 319 [pr. ed. vol. ii.
p. 420], he thought the name oi Blandamoure (which
was in all the editions of Chaucer he had then seen)
might have some reference to this. But Pleinda-
mou7', the name restored by Mr. Tyrwhitt, is more
remote.
8. Le Morte Arthure is among the Harl. MSS.
2252, § 49. This is judged to be a translation from
the French ; Mr. Wanley thinks it no older than the
METRICAL ROMANCES. 367
time of Henry VII., but it seems to be quoted in
Syr Bevis, (Sign. K. ij. b.) It begins,
" Lordinges, that are lesse and deare."
In the library of Bennet Coll. Cambridge, No.
351. is a MS.intitled in the z-5i\2\o<gM^ Acta ArtJniris
Aletrico Anglicano, but I know not its contents.
9. In the Editor's folio MS. are many songs and
romances about King Arthur and his knights, some
of which are very imperfect, as King Arthur and the
King of Cornwall {^2ig& 24) [pr. ed. vol. i. p. 61], in
stanzas of four lines, beginning,
" * Come here,' my cozen Gawaine so gay."
The Turkc and Gazuain (p. 38) [pr. ed. vol. i. p. 90],
in stanzas of six lines beginning thus :
" Listen lords great and small," *
but these are so imperfect that I do not make distinct
articles of them. See also in this volume, Book I.
No. I., II., IV., V.
In the same MS. p. 203 [pr. ed. vol. ii. p. 58], is the
Greene Knight, in two parts, relating a curious adven-
ture of Sir Gawain, in stanzas of six lines, beginning
thus : —
" List : wen Arthur he was k : "
10. The Carle of Carlisle is another romantic tale
about Sir Gawain, in the same MS. p. 448 [pr. ed.
vol. iii. p. 277], in distichs :
** Listen : to me a litle stond."
In all these old poems the same set of knights
are always represented with the same manners and
• * In the former editions, after the above, followed mention of
a fragment in the same MS., intitlcd. Sir Lionel, in distichs (p. 32)
(pr. cd. vol. i. f). 75 ] ; but this being only a short ballad, and not
relating to K. Arthur, is here omitted.
368 ON THE ANCIENT
characters ; which seem to have been as well known,
and as distinctly marked among our ancestors, as
Homer's Heroes were among the Greeks : for, as
Ulysses is always represented crafty, Achilles irasci-
ble, and Ajax rough ; so Sir Gawain is ever cour-
teous and gentle. Sir Kay rugged and disobliging,
&c. " Sir Gawain with his olde curtesie " is men-
tioned by Chaucer as noted to a proverb, in his
Squires Tale. Canterb. Tales, vol. ii. p. 104.
1 1 . Syr Launfal, an excellent old romance con-
cerning another of King Arthur's knights, is preserved
in the Cotton Library, Calig, A 2, f. 33. This is a
translation from the French (/), made by one Thomas
Chestre, who is supposed to have lived in the reign
of Henry VI. (See Tanner's Biblioth.) It is in
stanzas of six lines, and begins,
" Be douyty Artours dawes."
The above was afterwards altered by some min-
strel into the romance of Sir Lambewell, in three
parts, under which title it was more generally known
{g). This is the Editor's folio MS. p. 60 [pr. ed. vol.
i. p. 144], beginning thus :
" Doughty in king Arthures dayes."
12. Eger and Grime, in six parts (in the Editor's
folio MS. p. 124) [pr. ed. vol. i. p. 354], is a well in-
vented tale of chivalry, scarce inferior to any of Ari-
osto's. This which was inadvertently omitted in the
former editions of this list, is in distichs, and begins
thus :
" It fell sometimes in the Land of Beame."
(/) The French original is preserved among the Harl. MSS.
No. 978, § 112, Lanval.
{g) See Laneham's Letter concern. Q. Eliz. entertainment at
Kiilingworih, 1575, 12 mo. p. 34.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 369
13. The romance oi Mcrlinc, in nine parts (pre-
served in the same foHo MS. p. 145 [pr. ed. vol. i.
p. 4-2]), gives a curious account of the birth, parent-
age, and juvenile adventures of this famous British
Prophet. In this poem the Saxons are called Sai'a-
zcns ; and the thrustincf the rebel ano^els out of
heaven is attributed to " ourc LadyJ' It is in- dis-
tichs and besfins thus :
" He that made with his hand.''
There is an old romance Of Art hour and of Mer-
lin, in the Edinburgh MS, of old English poems : I
know not whether it has anything in common with
this last mentioned. It is in the volume numbered
xxiii. and extends through fifty-five leaves. The
two first lines are:
" Jesu Crist, heven king
Al ous graunt gode ending."
14. Sir Iscnbras (or as it is in the MS. copies, Sir
Isnmbras), is quoted in Chaucer's R. of Thopas, v. 6.
Among Mr. Garrick's old plays is a printed copy ;
of which an account has been already given in
vol. i. book iii. No. vii. It is preserved in MS.
in the Library of Caius Coll. Camb., Class A. 9 (2),
and also in the Cotton Library, Calig. A. 12 (f. 12S).
This is extremely different from the printed copy.
E. 0-.
" God Jjat made both cr))e and hevene."
15. Emarc, a very curious and ancient romance, is
preserved in the same vol, of the Cotton Library,
f. 69. It is in stanzas of six lines, and begins thus:
"Jesu j?at ys kyng in trone."
16. Chevclcre assignc, or The Knight of the Swan,
preserved in the Cotton Library, has been alreadv
described in vol. ii. Ajjpcndix, Essay on P. Plow-
man s Metre, SiC, as hath also
3 B I'
370 ON THE ANCIENT
17. The Sege of yerlmn (or Jerusalem), which
seems to have been written after the other, and may
not improperly be classed among the romances ; as
may also the following, which is preserved in the
same volume, viz.,
18. Owaine Myles (fol. 90), giving an account of
the wonders of St. Patrick's Purgatory. This is a
translation into verse of the story related in Mat.
Paris's Hist. (sub. Ann. 1153.) It is in distichs be-
ginning thus :
" God fat ys so full of myght."
In the same manuscript are three or four other
narrative poems, which might be reckoned among
the romances, but being rather religious legends, I
shall barely mention them ; as Ttmdale, f. 1 7 ; Tren-
tale Sci Grego^'ii, f. 84; Jerome, f, 133; Etistache,
f. 136.
19. Octavian iinperator, an ancient romance of
chivalry, is in the same vol. of the Cotton Library,
f. 20. Notwithstanding the name, this old poem has
nothing in common with the history of the Roman
Emperors. It is in a very peculiar kind of stanza,
whereof i, 2, 3, & 5 rhyme together, as do the 4
and 6. It begins thus :
" Ihesu fat was with spere ystonge."
In the public library at Cambridge {Ji), is a poem
with the same title, and begins very differently :
** Lyttyll and mykyll, olde and yonge."
20. Eglamour of Artas {or Ar toys) is preserved
in the same vol. with the foregoing, "both in the
Cotton Library and Public Library at Cambridge.
It is also in the Editor's folio MS. p. 295 [pr. ed.
(//) No. 690. (30.) Vid. Oxon. Catalog. AfSS. p. 394.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 371
vol. ii. p. 341], where it is divided into six parts. A
printed copy in the Bodleian Library, C. 39. Art.
Seld., and also among Mr. Garrick's old plays, K.
vol. X. It is in distichs, and begins thus :
" Ihesu Crist of heven kyng."
21. Syr Triavioj'e (\Vi stanzas of six lines) is pre-
served in MS. in the Editor's volume, p. 210 [pr. ed.
vol. ii. p. So], and in the Public Library at Cam-
bridge (690, § 29. Vid. Cat. MSS. p. 394.) Two
printed copies are extant in the Bodleian Library,
and among Mr. Garrick's plays in the same volumes
with the last article. Both the editor's MS. and the
printed copy begin,
" Nowe Jesu Chryste our heven kynge."
The Cambridge copy thus :
" Heven blys that all shall wynne."
2 2. Sir 'Degree [Degare, or Degorc, which last
seems the true title) in five parts, in distichs, is pre-
served in the Editor's folio MS. p. 371 [pr. ed.
vol. iii. p. 20], and in the Public Library at Cambridge
(ubi supra). A printed copy is in the Bod. Library
C. 39. Art. Seld. and among Mr, Garrick's plays, K.
vol. ix. The Editor's MS. and the printed copies
begin,
" Lordinges, and you \\yl holde you styl."
The Cambridge MS. has it,
" Lystenyth, lordyngis, gente and fre."
23. Ipomydon (or Chylde Ipomydon), is preserved
among the Harl. MSS. 2252 (44). It is in distichs,
and begins,
*' Mckcly, lordyngis, gentylle and fre."
In the librar)- of Lincoln Cathedral, K k. 3, 10, is
-^^i ON THE ANCIENT
o
an old imperfect printed copy, wanting the whole
first sheet A.
24. The Sqiiyr of Lowe degre, is one of those bur-
lesqued by Chaucer in his Rhyme of Thopas {i). Mr.
Garrick has a printed copy of this, among his old
plays, K. vol. ix. It begins,
" It was a squyer of lowe degre,
That loved the kings daughter of Hungre."
25. Histojye of K. Richard Cure \Coeur\ de
Lyon. (Impr. W. de Worde, 1528, 4to.) is preservde
in the Bodleian Library, C. 39, Art. Selden. A frag-
ment of it is also remaining in the Edinburgh MS.
of old English poems ; No. xxxvi. in two leaves. A
large extract from this romance has been given
already above, p. 356. Richard was the peculiar
patron of Chivalry, and favourite of the old minstrels
and troubadours. See Warton's Observ. vol. i. p. 29,
vol. ii. p. 40.
26. Of the following I have only seen No. 27, but
I believe they may all be referred to the class of
romances.
The Knight of Courtesy and the Lady of Fagucl
(Bodl. Lib. C. 39. Art. Sheld. a printed copy).
This Mr. Warton thinks is the story of Coucy's
Heart, related in Fauchet, and in Howel's Letters,
(v. i. s. 6, L. 20, see Wart. Obs. v. ii. p. 40). The
Editor has seen a very beautiful old ballad on this
subject in French.
27. The four following are all preserved in the
MS. so often referred to in the Public Library at
Cambridge, (690. Appendix to Bp. More's MSS. in
Cat. MSS. torn. ii. p. 394), viz., The Lay of Erie of
(/■) This is alluded to by Shakespeare in his Hen. V. (Act v.),
where Fluellyn tells Pistol, he will make him a squire of low
degree, when he means, to knock him down.
METRICAL ROMANCES. 373
TJiolousc (No. 27). of which the Editor hath also a
copy from "Cod. MSS. Mus. Ashmol. Oxon." The
first Hne of both is,
" Jesu Chr}'ste in Tr}Tiyte."
28. Robcrd Kyiigc of Cysyll (or Sicih) shewing
the fall of pride. Of this there is also a copy among
the Harl. MSS. 1703 (3). The Cambridge MS.
begins,
" Princis that be prowde in prese."
29. Le bo7ie Floj'cnce of Rome, beginning thus :
" As ferre as men ride or gone."
30. Dioclcsian the Empcroiir, beginning,
" Sum tyme ther was a noble man."
o
O
I . The two knightly brothers Amys and Anicliou
(among the Harl MSS. 2386, §. 42) is an old ro-
mance of chivalry, as is also, I believe, the fragment
of the Lady Bclesant, the Dtike of Lonibardy' s fair
daiicrJitcr, mentioned in the same article. See the
catalog, vol. ii.
32. In the Edinburgh MS. so often referred to
(preserved in the Advocates Library, \V. 4. i.) might
probably be found some other articles to add to this
list, as well as other copies of some of the pieces
mentioned in it, for the whole volume contains not
fewer than thirty-seven poems or romances, some of
them very long. But as many of them have lost the
beginnings, which have been cut out for the sake of
the illuminations, and as I have not had an oppor-
tunity of examining the MS. myself, I shall be con-
tent to mention only the articles that follow (/•): viz.
{k) Some of these I give, though mutilated and divested of their
titles, because they may enable a curious inquirer to com[)lete or
improve other copies.
374 ON THE ANCIENT
An old romance about Roida^id (not I believe the
famous Paladine, but a champion named Rouland
Louth; query) being in the volume, No. xxvii. in
five- leaves, and wants the beginning.
33. Another romance that seems to be a kind of
continuation of this last, intitled, Ohiel a Knight,
(No. xxviii. in eleven leaves and a half). The two
first lines are,
" Herkneth both yinge and old,
That willen heren of battailes bold."
34. The King of Tars (No. iv. in five leaves and
a half; it is also in the Bodleyan Library, MS. Ver-
non, f. 304) beginning thus :
" Herkneth to me bothe eld and ying
For Maries love that swete thing."
35. A tale or romance (No. i. two leaves), that
wants both bemnninof and end. The first lines now
remaining are,
" Th Erl him graunted his will y-wis. that the knicht him haden.
y told.
The Baronnis that were of mikle pris. befor him thay weren
y-cald."
36. Another mutilated tale or romance (No. iii.
four leaves). The first lines at present are,
" To Mr. Steward wil y gon. and tellen him the sothe of the
Reseyved bestow sone anon, gif you ^vill serve and with hir be."
37. A mutilated tale or romance (No. xi. in thir-
teen leaves). The two first lines that occur are,
" That riche Dooke his fest gan hold
With Erls and with Baronns bold."
I cannot conclude my account of this curious manu-
script, without acknowledging that I was indebted
to the friendship of the Rev. Dr. Blair, the ingenious
METRICAL ROMANCES. 375
professor of Belles Lettres, in the University of
Edinburgh, for whatever I learned of its contents,
and for the important additions it enabled me to
make to the foreo^ointr list.
To the preceding articles two ancient metrical ro-
mances in the Scottish dialect may now be added,
which are published in Pinkerton's Scotiisli Poc^ns,
reprinted "from scarce editions," Lond, 1792, in 3
vols. 8vo. viz.
';}^Z. Gazuaji and Gologras, a metrical romance ;
from an edition printed at Edinburgh, 1508, 8vo.
beginning : —
" In the tyme of Arthur, as trew men me tald."
It is in stanzas of thirteen lines.
39. Sir Gauan ajid Sir G alar on of Galloway, a
metrical romance, in the same stanzas as No. 2)^,
from an ancient MS. beginning thus :
"In the'tyme of Arthur an aunter(/) betydde
By the Turnwathelan, as the boke tells ;
Whan he to Carlele was comen, and conqueror kyd," &c.
Both these (which exhibit the union of the old
alliterative metre, with rhyme, 8:c., and in the ter-
mination of each stanza the short triplets of the
Turnament of Tottenham), are judged to be as old
as the time of our K. Henry VI., being apparently
the production of an old poet, thus mentioned
by Dunbar, in his Lament for tJic Detk of the
Makkaris :
" Clerk of Tranent eik he hes take,
That made the aventers of Sir Gawane."
It will scarce be necessary to remind the reader,
that Turncwathclan is evidently T€arnc-]V\idling,
(/) i.e. adventure.
376 METRICAL ROMANCES.
celebrated in the old ballad of the Marriage of Sir
Gawaine. See pp. 14 and 325 of this volume.
Many new references, and perhaps some additional
articles might be added to the foregoing list from
Mr. Warton's Histoiy of English Poetry, 3 vols. 4to.
and from the notes to Mr. Tyrwhitt's improved
edition of Ckaticers Canterbury Tales, &c. in 5 vols.
8vo. which have been published since this Essay, &c.
was first composed; but it will be sufficient once for
all to refer the curious reader to those popular
works.
The reader will also see many interesting particu-
lars on the subject of these volumes, as well as on
most points of general literature, in Sir John Haw-
kins's curious History of Music, &c., in 5 volumes,
4to., as also in Dr. Burney's Hist. &c. in 4 vols. 4to.
[Much has been written upon the subject of this Essay since
Percy's time, but no exhaustive work has yet appeared. The
reader may consult VV. C Hazhtt's new edition of Warton's
History, 1871 ; EUis's Specimens of Early English Metrical Eo-
mances, new edition, by J. O. HalUwell, 1848; Dunlop's History
of Fiction; J. M. Ludlow's Popular Epics of the Middle Ages,
Norse, German, and Ca?-lovingian Cycles, 1865; G. W. Cox and
E. H. Jones's Popular Romances of the Middle Ages, 187 1 ; and
also the prefaces of the various old English romances printed by
the Percy, Camden, and Early Enghsh Text Societies ; and by the
Abbotsford, Bannatyne, and Roxburghe Clubs.]
GLOSSARY
TO THE THREE VOLUMES.
^^^*^^^HIS is an amalgamation of the three ori-
ginal o^lossaries, with larcre additions and
alterations, and the introduction of reter-
ences. It has not, however, been thought
necessar; to refer to every passage in which a par-
ticular wcrd may occur.
Percy's explanatory notes are marked with the
letter P.
Many words which appear in a slightly varied
form from t?ie present spelling are not included in
this glossary.
A', a//.
A, a/.
A, i. 27, n/. Watte- a Twyde,
i. 25, water of Ttxieti.
Abacke, back.
Abenche, i. 409, on a bouh.
Able, i. ^7, /it, suitable.
Abone, i. 24 ; aboon, i.
aboone, i. loi ; abour. i
above.
Aboven ous, ii. 8, above us.
Abowght, i. 40, about.
Abraide, i. 168, abroad.
Abuve, ii. 83, in the uplands.
Abyc, iii. 31, suffer, pay /or, .r-
piate.
323 ;
32,
Acton, i. 72, a quilted leather
jacket, worn under the coat 0/
mail. Fr. hacqueton.
Advoutry, ii. 136, adultery.
Aff, ii. 70, 0//.
Affore, i. 269; afore, ii. 115, be-
/ore.
Aft, i. 321, ^/A
Agayne, i. 121, against.
Ageyn, i. 119, a^^ainst.
Agone, ii. \\, }^one.
Ahte, ii. 1 1, oui^ht.
Aik, iii. 147, oak.
Ail, ii. 84, trouble.
Ain, i. 102, own.
Ailh, ii. 70, oath.
37^
GLOSSARY.
Al, ii, 9, albeit, although.
Al gife, although.
Alace, iii. 236, alas.
Alane, ii. 83, alone.
Alemaigne, ii. 7, Germany,
Allgyf, i. 125, although,
Almaine, iii. 1 10, Ge?-matiy.
Alyes, ii. 33, always.
Amang, ii. 20, ainong.
Amangis, ii. 81, amongst.
Amblit, iii. 237, ambled.
Among, ii. 35, at intervals, some-
times.
An, and.
An, i. 60, if.
Ancyent, i. 2ji,Jlag, banner, stan-
dard.
And, if, but and, i. 27 ; but ifj
and youe, if you.
And but, ii. 15, and unless.
Ane, i. 30, ii. 118, one, an, a.
Anes, ii. 112, once, ii. 109. (.'')
Angel, ii. 176, a gold coin varying
in value from 6s. 8d. to los.
Ann, ii. 69, if
Anneuche, ii. 81, enough.
Annoy, ii. 211, trouble.
Ant, ii. 7, and.
Aplyht, al aplyht, ii. 14, entirely.
Aquoy, iii. 247, coy, shy.
Ar, ii. 24, are.
Aras, i. 24, arrows.
Archeborde, ii. 193, 203, side of
the ship ? See Hach-borde.
Arcir, i. 103, archer.
Argabushe, ii. 53, hargrtebuse, an
old-fashioned kind of musket.
Arrand, i. 80, errand.
Arros, i. 28, arrows.
Ase, ii. 8, as.
Aslake, ii. 37, abate.
Assay, i. 80, essay, assayed, ii. 44.
Assoyld, i. 179, absolved.
Astate, i. 11^, estate.
Astonied, iii. 34, astonished,
stujtned.
Astound, i. 207, stunned.
Ath, i. 25, of the.
Att me, i. 2j6,from me.
Attour, ii. 81 ; attowre, ii. 84, 86,
over.
Au, iii. 75, all.
Auld, i. 83, loi, ii. 68, old.
Aule, i. 308, awl.
Aureat, i. 12'^, golden.
Austerne, i. 285, sterft, austere.
Avaunce, ii. 49, advance.
Avow, iii. 327 ; avowe, i. 23, 34, 47,
172 ; ii. 23, 58, vow.
Aw, iii. 145, all.
Awa', ii. 69, away.
Awin, ii. 133, own.
Awne, i. 121, 274, own.
Axed, i. 129, asked.
Ay, ii. 70, ever J also ah ! alas !
Ayein, ii. 12, against.
Ayont the ingle, ii. 68, beyotid the
fire. The fire was in the middle
of the rootn.
" In the west of Scotland, at
this present time, in many cot-
tages, they pile their pests and
turfs upon stones in the middle
of the room. There ii a hole
above the fire in the ricge of the
house to let the smote out at.
In some places ari cottage-
houses, from the froit of which
a very wide chimrey projects
like a bow-windov : the fire is
in a grate, like a milt-kiln grate,
round which the people sit :
sometimes they <iraw this grate
into the middle of the room."
(Mr. Lambe.) P.
Ba', i. 59, ball.
Bacheleere, i. 64, 78, knight j
bachelary, ii 28 ; bachelery, ii.
23, cofnpanj of bachelors.
Badena, iii. ^, delayed not.
Baile, i. 122. bale, evil, mischief
misery, tmible.
Bairn, ii. 7-» ; bairne, i. 59, child.
Baith, i. i+3» 32 1, both.
Bale, i. ico, 280, ii. 8, 59, evil, hurt,
mischff misery; baleful, i. 136.
Balow, ii- 211 (a nursery term),
hush lullaby.
Balysoete, i. 35, remedy otir evils.
Ban, a. 70, curse.
Bani, i. 70, 148, bond, covenant.
Ba'drolles, iii. 290, streamers,
ittle flags.
Bme, i. 29, bone.
Janket, ii. 225, banquet.
GLOSSAJ^y.
79
Banning, ii. 212, ciirsiti^e^.
Barker, ii. 96, dealer in bark.
Bame, i. 26, child, yuan, person.
Barrow hogge, i. 214, gelded hog.
Basnete, i. 29, basnite, i. 28, bas-
sonett, i. 48, helmet.
Bason, helmet.
Batch ilere, i. 68, knight.
Bathe, i. 30, both.
Bats, ii. 21, cudgels.
Bauld, i. 321, bold.
Bauzen's skinne, i. 30S. SJucp-
skin gloves 7uith the wool on
the inside.
Bayard, ii. 22, a noted horse in the
old romances.
Be, ii. ^,t>y.
Beanes, ii. 203, beams.
Bearing arowe, i. 176, an arrow
that carries well.
Bed, ii. 13, bade.
Bede, ii. 21, 23, bid, offer, engage.
Bedeaft, iii. 272, deafened.
Bedeene, ii. 57, iii. i i,if>tmediately.
Bedight. i. 132, bedecked.
Bedone, iii. 6, 237, wrought, made-
up, ornamented.
Beere, i. 50, in. 42, bier.
Beforn, i. 321 ; beforne, i. 29, 65,
be/ore.
Begilde, ii. 76 ; begylde, ii. 44, be-
guiled, deceived.
Beheard, i. 114, heard.
Behove, i. 180, behoof.
Beir, i. 84 ; beire, ii. 212, bear.
Belive, i. 1 1 5 ; belyfe, i. 173, imme-
diately, presently, shortly.
Ben, ii. 15, 16, iii. 208, been, be, are.
Ben, ii. -jo, within doors, the inner
room.
(The " but " is the outer room.
" A but and a ben " is a house
containing two rooms.)
Bene, ii. 16, bean, an expression of
contempt.
Benison, i. 322, blessing.
Bent, bents, lont^ coarse grass, i.
24, 25, 28 ; also wild fields, i. 41,
43. 65, 78.
Beoth, ii. 11, be, are.
I')cr. ii. 13, bare.
Bcr the prys, ii. i \,bare the prize.
Berne, i. 41, mtin.
Bernes, iii. 208, barns.
Berys, ii. 21, beareth.
Beseeme, become.
Besene, ii. 25, dressed.
Beshradde, iii. 317, cut into shreds.
Besmirche, to soil, discolour.
Bespake, iii. 158, spoke.
Besprent, ii. 52, besprinkled.
Beste, beest, art.
Beste, i. 189, beast.
Bested, abode.
Bestis, i. 122, beasts.
Bestrawghted, i. 1 89, distracted.
Besy, i. 129, busy.
Bet, better.
Beth, i. 284, be, is, are.
Bett, ii. 63, lighted. A.S. bdtan fyr,
to make or light a fire.
Bette, iii. 356, did beat.
Beuche, ii. 391, bough.
Bewray, ii. 179, discover.
Bi mi leaut^, ii. 7, by my loyalty,
honesty.
Bickarte, i. 24, skirmished ; also
swiftly coursed.
Mr. Lambe also interprets
" Bickering," by rattling, e.g.,
And on that slee Ulysses head
Sad curses down does BICKER.
Translat. of Ovid. P.
Bide at hame, iii. 97, remain at
home.
Biilt, ii. 63, built.
Bil, i. \68, pike or halbert.
Bille, i. 282, 289, ii. 142, writing.
Biqueth, ii. 12, bequeath.
Bird, iii. 94, chi/d, term of affec-
tion usually applied toawoman.
Birk, ii. 363, iii. 238, birch-tree.
Blak, ii. 21 ; blakc, ii. 21, black.
Blan, i. 269 ; blane, i. 30 ; blanne,
i. 68, 91, 275, ii. 144, lingered,
stopped.
Blaw, i. 145, iii. \4't,blow; blaw-
ing, iii. 147, blowing.
Blaze, ii. 260, emblazon, display.
1 5 lee, i. 72, ii. 56, colour, com-
plexion.
Blcid, iii, 94, bleed; bleids, ii. 1 16,
bleeds.
Blend, iii. 55;blent, iii.5i,/^/<?«^/(t"^/.
Blent, ceased.
38o
GLOSSARY.
Blink, ii. 120, a glimpse of light.
Blinkan, iii. 123, twinkling.
Blinks, iii. 74, twinkles., sparkles.
Blinne, iii. 46, cease, give over.
Blissing, iii. 208, blessittg.
Blist, i. 310, blessed.
Blude, i. 34, blood; blude reid, i.
100, blood red.
Bluid, i. 59, 83, blood J bluidy, i.
144, bloody; reid bluid, red blood,
i. 146.
Blyth, ii. d^., joyous., sprightly.
Blyth, iii. ji\.,joy, sprightli?iess.
Blyve, i. 175, instantly.
Bode, i. 120, abode, stayed.
Boist, boisteris, boast, boasters.
Boke, ii. 16, book.
Bollys, ii. 21, bowls.
Boltes, shafts, arrows.
Bomen, i. 24, bowmen.
Bonny, iii. 147, handsotne, comely.
BonySjii. 22,bones. Roundebonys,
ii. 22.
Bookes-man, iii. 52, clerk, secre-
tary.
Boot, ii. 97 ; boote, i. 1 09, 1 1 5, 1 36,
ii. 59 ; boots, iii. 1 54, gain, ad-
vantage, help, assistance.
Bore, iii. 112, boar.
Bore, iii. 40, born.
Borowe, i. 162, to redeein.
Borrow, i. 275 ; borrovve, i. 269,
pledge, S7(rety.
Bost, ii. 24; boste, i. 122, pride;
boast, ii. 8.
Bot, ii. 60, but.
Bot, ii. 109, without; bot and,
i. 144, and also ; bot dreid,
without dread, or certainly ;
bot gif, ii. 83, unless.
Bots, iii. 186, a wonn troublesome
to horses.
Bougill, i. 1 47, bugle-horn,hiinting-
horn.
Boun, i. 146, ready.
Bowen, ii. 44, ready.
Bower, iii. 125, 126, 12,1, parlour,
chajnber.
Bower-window, iii. 125, chamber
window.
Bowne, i. 63, "]"], ii. 94, ready;
bowned, prepared; bowne ye,
i. 107, prepare ye, get ready ;
bowne to dine, going to difte.
Bowne is a common word in
the North for'"'' going l' e.g. Where
are you bowne to ? Where are
you going to? P.
Bow're-woman, iii. 96, chatnber-
fnaid.
Bowyn, i. 41, ready.
Bowynd, i. 40, prepared.
Bowys, i. 28, bows.
Brade, ii. 107, 112, broad.
Brae, iii. 147, the brow or side of
a hill, a declivity. Braes of
Yarrow, ii. 363, hilly banks of
the river Yarrow.
Braid, broad.
Braid, i. 100, open.
Brand, i. 83, 96 ; brande, i. 25,
30, 40, 48, 67, sword.
Brast, i. 66, 168, ii. 56, 98, iii. 61,
burst.
Braw, ii. 227, brave.
Braw, ii. 69, bravely, handsoinely.
Brayd attowre the bent, ii. 84,
hastened over the field.
Brayn-pannes, ii. 25, skulls.
Bread, ii. 192, breadth.
Bred, i. 43, broad.
Breeden, i. 108, breed.
Breere, i. in, briar.
Bren, i. 80, 145 ; brenn, ii. 57,
burn.
Brenand drake, ii. 2 3, fiejy dragon.
Brenn, i. 144; brenne, i. 73, 159,
burn; brent, i. 160, ii. 55, iii. 87,
burnt; brenning, ii. 142, burn-
ing.
Brest, i. 29, breast.
Brest, ii. 21, burst.
Brether, i. 87, brethren.
Bridal (bride-ale), miptial feast.
Brigue, iii. 95 ; briggs, iii. 92,
bridge.
Brimme, ii. 2 57, public, utiiversally
known; A.-S. bryme.
Britled, iii. 12, carved.
Broche, ii. 22, atiy ornamental
trinket. Stone buckles of silver
or gold with which gentlemen
and ladies clasp their shirt-
bosotns, and hatidkerchiefs, are
called in the North broches,
from the Fr. broche, a spit. P.
GLOSSARY.
;Si
Brocht, ii. 85, brought.
Broder, ii. 360, brotJicr,
Eroding, i. 64, ~%, pricking.
Broht, ii. 13 ; brohte, ii. ^,brought.
Bronde, i. 49, siuorU.
Brooche, brouche, a spit, a bodkin.
Brooke, enjoy j and I brook, i. 34,
if I enjoy.
Brouke hur wyth wynne, ii. 20,
enjoy her -o.<ith pleasure.
Browd, i. 24, broad.
Broyt, ii. 21, brought.
Br)-ttlynge, i. 25, cutting up, quar-
tering, cannng.
Buen, ii. 12 ; bueth, ii. 13, been, be,
are.
Buff, i. 150, arm, dress.
Bugle, i. 65, 78, bugle horn, hunt-
ing horn {being the horn of
a bugle or wild bull).
Buik, book.
Buit, ii. 81, help.
Burgens, ii. 383, buds, young
shoots.
Burn, iii. 147, bourne, brook.
Bushment. i. 122, ambush, snare.
Busk, i. 146, drxss, deck ; busk ye,
i. 107, ii. 363, dress ye J busk and
boun, i. 146, make yourselves
ready to go ; buske them blyve,
i. 175, get them ready instantly;
buskit, i. 143, dressed; buskt
them, i. 122, prepared them-
selves, made themselves ready.
But, without J but let, without
hindrance.
But, i. 75, ii. 144, unless; but an,
i. 144, unless; but yf, ii. 23,
unless.
Bute, ii. 83, boot, good, advantage.
Butt, ii. 70, the outer room, bee
Ben.
By three, of three.
Byde, ii. 83, stay.
Bydys, i. 2X, bides, abides.
Bye, buy, pay for.
Byears, i. 33, becres, biers.
Byhynde, ii. 19, behind.
Byre, iii. 236, cow-house.
Byste, i. 41, beest, art.
Ca', iii. 93, call.
Caddis, i. 376, worsted ribbon.
Cadgily, ii. 68, merrily, cheerfully.
Caitif, iii. 228; caitive, ii. 135,
wretch.
Cales, ii. 243, Cadiz.
Calliver, a large pistol or blunder-
buss.
Camscho, iii. 385. (Glossary —
Eldridge) gtini.
Can, i. 44, 77, ii. 24, 70; cane,
i. 47, gan, began.
Can, ii. 37, know.
Canna, iii. 123; cannae, i. 59,
146, cannot.
Cannes, wooden cups, bowls.
Cantabanqui, i. 274,ballad-singers,
singers on benches.
Cantells, ii. 22, pieces, corners.
Canty, ii. 69, cheerful, chatty.
Capul, ii. 24, a poor horse;
capulys, ii. 24, horses.
Capullhyde,i. 107, 114, horse hide.
Carle, ii. 68, iii. 123, clown, a
strong, hale old num.
Carlish, i. 133, iii. 14, churlish^
discourteous.
Carlist, iii. 329, churlish ?
Carp, ii. 136 ; carpe, ii. 19, to
speak, recite, also to censure ;
i. 2},, complaifi.
Carpyng, ii. 20, tumult.
Cast, i. 26, mean, intend.
Caste, ii. 128, stratagem.
Catives, ii. 302, wretches.
Cau, ii. 71, call.
Cauld, i. 143, ii. 68, cold.
Causey, ii. 139, causeway.
Cawte and kene, i. 44, cautious
and active.
Cent, i. 130, scent.
Cetywall, i. 307, setiwall, the herb
valerian, or mountain spike-
nard.
Cham, ii. 2S8, I am, in .Somerset-
shire dialect.
Chantcclere, i. 307, the cock.
Chap, iii. 93, 95, knock.
Charke-bord, ii. 203 .^ same as
archcborde, side of the ship f
.See Hach-bortle.
Chayme, ii. 74, Cain, or Ham.
Chays, i. 26, chase.
Che, ii. 286, /, /// Somersetshire
dialect.
382
GLOSSARY.
Cheare, ii. 216, chair.
Checke, i. 301, to stop, to chide.
Cheefe, the upper part of the
scutcheon in heraldry.
Cheffe, i. 28, chief; cheffest, iii.
44, chief est.
Cheften, i. 28, chieftain.
Cheis, choose.
Chevaliers, knights.
Cheveron, ii. 25, upper part of
the sc7itcheon in heraldry.
Chevy Chase, i. 19, Cheviot chase
or hunt. See same contraction
in Tividale.
Ch\e\<l, fellow.
Child, iii. 58, knight.
Children, i. 66, 77, knights.
Chill, ii. 286, / zuill, in Somerset-
shire dialect.
Cholde, y-cholde, ii. 12, I would.
Choul'd, ii. 287, / would, in Som.
dialect.
Christentie, christentye, i. 92, ii.
61 ; christiante, i. 31, Christen-
dom.
Church-ale, iii. 198, a wake or
feast iti commemoration of the
dedication of a church.
Chyf, chyfe, chief
Chylded, ii. 382, brought forth,
was delivered.
Chylder, ii. 25, childrejis.
Chyviat chays, i. 26. (See Chevy
Chase.)
Claiths, ii. 69, clothes.
Clattered, beat so as to rattle.
Clawde, clawed, tore, scratched;
figuratively, beat.
Clead, ii. 69, clad, clothe; clead-
ing, iii. 237, clothing.
Cleaped, i. 306, called, na7ned.
Cled, iii. 147, clad, clothed.
Clepe, ii. 13, call; cleped, ii. 14,
called.
eliding, iii. 97, clothing.
Clim, i. 155, contraction of Cle-
tnent.
Clough, i. 155, rt broken cliff.
Clout, i. 197, a cloth to strain
milk through; rag, ii. 71 ;
Clout, ii. 100, me7id.
Clowch, clutch, grasp.
Clymme, ii. 74, climb.
Coate, i. 309, cot, cottage.
Cockers, i. 308, a sort of buskins
or short boots fastened with
laces or buttons, worn by far-
mers or shepherds. Cokers,
fshermen^s boots (Littleton's
Diet.)
Cog, iii. 203, to lie, cheat.
Cohorted, ii. 382, incited, ex-
horted.
Cokenay,ii. 28, explained by Percy
to be a diminutive of cook, from
the Latin coquinator, or coqui-
narius ; it really means a lean
chicken.
Cold, ii. 232 ; colde, ii. 55, cotild.
Cold, iii. 6, knew, where I cold
be ; i. 286, where I was.
Cold rost, nothing to the pur-
pose.
Cole, iii. 108, coal.
Coleyne, iii. 33, Cologne steel.
Collayne, i. 48, Cologne steel.
Com, ii. 12 ; come, ii. 21, came;
comen, i. 89 ; commen, i. 33,
coitie.
Con, ii. 27, can.
Con fare, went, passed.
Con springe, ii. 11, spread abroad.
Con twenty thanks, iii. 210, give
twenty thanks.
Confeterd, i. 120, confederated.
Confound, i. 218, destroy.
Contray, ii. 19, co7intry.
Cop, ii. 9, head, the top of any-
t hi Jig.
Coppell, ii. 21, name of a heti.
Cordiwin, i. 318, originally Span-
ish or Cordovan leather, after-
wards commoner leather.
Cors, ii. 21, body.
Cors, i. 26, curse.
Corsiare, i. 30, courser, steed.
Coste, ii. 30, coast, side, region.
Cote, i. 303 ; cott, iii. 183, cottage.
Cote, iii. 53, coat.
Cotydyallye, ii. 381, daily, every
day.
Could bear, ii. 137, did bare.
Could be, was.
Could dye, died.
Could his good, knew what was
good for him.
GLOSSARY.
Could weip, wept.
Coulde, cold.
Counsayl, secret.
Countie, i. 303, count, earl.
Coupe, i. 300, coop, or a pen for
poultry.
Courtas, ii. S2, courteous.
Courteys, ii. 46, courteous.
Courtnalis, iii. 1S2, courtiers.
Couth, i. 306, could.
Couthen, ii. 13, knew.
Cowde, i. 44, could.
Coyntrie, i. 308, Coventry.
Cramasie, iii. 75, 147, crimson.
Crancke, i. 307, exultin^ly.
Cranion, iii. 198, skull.
Crech, ii. 27. This word is incor-
rectly explained in the text as
crutch. It is really a form of
the French creche, a crib or
manger. It occurs as cracche
in the " Promptorium Parv."
(1440).
Crepyls, ii. 24, cripples.
Cricke, i. 196, properly an ant,
but used for any small insect.
Crinkle, iii. 10, run in ami out,
run into flexures, wrinkle.
Cristes cors, Christ's corse.
Croche, ii. 312, crouch.
Croft, ii. 22, inclosure near a
house.
Crois, ii. 13 ; croiz, ii. 12, cross.
Crook, ii. 70, twist, wrinkle, dis-
tort j crook my knee, ii. 71,
make lame my knee. They say
in the North " the horse is
crookit," i.e. lame ; the " horse
crooks," i.e. goes lame. P.
Crouneth, ii. 12, crown ye.
Crowch, i. 180, crutch.
Crown, i. 26, head.
Crowt, iii. 10, to pucker up, draw
close toj^ether. (Another form
of crowd.)
Crumpling, ii. 257, crooked, hortud.
Cryance, i. 65, 66, "jZ^fear.
Cule, ii. 229, cool.
• Cum, i. 28, 59, loi, 143 ; ii. 132,
come, came.
Cummer, ii. 133, (gossip, friend;
Fr. comm^re, compirre.
Cure, ii. 76, care, heed, regard.
Dale, deal; bot gif I dale, ii. 83,
unless I share.
Dampned, i. 161, damned, con-
de»ined.
Dan, an ancient title of respect,
from Lat. Dominus.
Danske, ii. 254, Denmark.
Dare, ii. 360, their; ii. 361, there.
Darh, ii. 14, ?ieed.
Darr'd, ii. 118, hit.
Dart the tree, ii. 1 15, //// the tree.
Dat, ii. 360, that.
Daungerhalt, ii. \6,fear holdeth.
Dawes, iii. 368, days.
Dawkin, ii. 19, diminutive of
David.
De, ii. 360, the.
De, i. 26, 30, die.
Dealan, iii. 134, dealing.
Deare, ii. 308, hurt.
Deare, iii. 82, dearly.
Deas, iii. the high table in a hall.
F. dais, a canopy.
Ded, ii. 26 ; dede, i. 30, dead.
Dede is do, ii. 36, deed is done.
Dee, iii. 99, die.
Deemed, iii. 52 ; deemedst, ii.
217, doomed, judged; thus in
the Isle of Man judges are
called Deemsters. P.
Deere, ii. 304, hurt, mischief.
Deerely, ii. 194, iii. 27 ; pre-
ciously, richly.
Default, i. 303, neglect.
Deid, ii. 83, dead : deid bell, iii.
1 34, passing bell.
Deid, i. loi, 147, deed.
Deip, i. 60 ; deep.
Deir, i. 83, loi ; dear.
Deir, iii. 96, dearly.
Deir, ii. 82, hurt, trouble.
Deie, ii. 35, deal, bit.
Dele, ii. 45, to deal.
Dell, deal, part ; every dell, every
part.
Delt, iii. 1 19, dealt.
Dem, ii. 361, them.
Dcmaines, iii. 209, demesnes, es-
tates.
Deme, ii. z(y'^, judged, doomed.
Dcnay, i. 217, deny, refuse.
Dent, ii. 21, a dint, blow.
Dcol, ii. 13, dole, grief.
84
GLOSSARY.
Depart, ii. 2>7i separate; depart-
ing, ii. 84, dividing.
Depured, i. 129, purified, run
clear.
Deray, ii. 28, confusion.
Dere, ii. 20, dear., also Jmri.
Dere, ii. 19, dire or sad. A.-S.
derian, to hurt. " My dearest
foe " — Hamlet.
Dere, iii. 357, 'wild a7iimals.
Derked, ii. y]., darketied.
Dern, ii. 82, secret; I'dern, ii. 83,
in secret.
Descreeve, i. 63, describe ; descry-
ing, iii. 168, describing.
Devys, ii. 12, devise, the act of
bequeathal by will.
Dey, ii. 361, they.
Dey, i. 33 ; deye, ii. 12, die.
Did off, i. 1 14, took off; did on,
iii. 65, put on.
Dight, i. 65, 74; dighte, ii. 162,
decked, dressed, prepared,
wrought, fitted out, done.
Diht, ii. II, wrought; ii. 12, sent.
Dill, ii. 82, share.
Dill, still, calm, mitigate.
Dill, i. 63, Tl, 78, dole, grief , pain,
sorrow; dill I drye, i. 64, pain
I suffer; dill was dight, grief
was jtpon him.
Dinge, iii. 51, knock, beat.
Dis, this.
Discreeve, i. "jj, describe, or dis-
cover.
Disna, iii. 123, does not.
Disteynyd, i. 124, stained.
Distrere, iii. 108, the horse ridden
by a knight in the tournatnent.
Do, ii. 36, done.
Dochter, i. 59, 145, ii. 68, daughter.
Dois, i. 59, 83, does.
Dois, days.
Del, ii. 13 ; dole, i. 63, 137, 292,
dole, grief, sorrow.
Doleful dumps, i. 188, 261, sorrow-
f III gloom or heaviness of heart.
Dolours, dolorous, mourtiful.
Don, iii. 208, do.
Don, ii. 23, be made.
Done roun, ii. 80, ru)i down.
Dosend, iii. 123, dosing, drowsy,
torpid, benumbed.
Doth, dothe, doeth, do.
Doubt, iii. yi'],fear.
Doubteous, doubtful.
Dough, ii. 360, though.
Doughty, iii. 26 ; doughtye, i. 305,-
dowght>'e, i. 40 ; formidable.
Doughete, i. 28, a doughty man.
Dounae, i. 60, cannot.
Dout, ii. 22,, fear.
Doute, i. 167, doubt.
Doutted, i. 123, redoubted, feared.
Douyty, doughty.
Doy-trogh, ii. 24, dough trough, a
kneading trough.
Doys, i. 34, does.
Doyter, ii. 20, daughter.
Drake ; brenand drake, ii. 23, burn-
ing, fire-breathing dragon.
Drap, drop; draping, ii. 114, drap-
ping, iii. 97, dropping.
Dre, i. 31, 83, siiffer.
Dreid, ii. 82, dread.
Dreips, i. 146, drips, drops.
Dreiry, iii. 100, dreary.
Drieps, iii. 146, drips, drops.
Drie, i. 144, suffer; ill, i. 284 ; ii7i-
dergo, I. 83.
Drighnes, i. 119, dryness.
Drogh, ii. 26, drew.
Drovyers, i. 254, drovers, cattle-
drivers.
Drye, i. 49, 64, 78, suffer, e7tdu7'e.
Dryng, ii. 8, drink.
Duble dyse, double or false dice.
Dude, ii. 7, did; dudest, ii. 9, didst.
Duel, ii. II, grief
Dughty, ii. 19, 26, doughty;
dughtynesse of dent, ii. 21, stur-
diness of blows.
Dule, i. 83, 145, dole, grief, sorrow;
dulefu', ii. 69, doleful.
Dumps, i. 188, 261, ii. 69, heavi-
ness of heart.
Dwellan, iii. 134, dwelling.
Dy, die; dyan, iii. 134, dying.
Dyd on, i. 159, put on; dyd off,
i. 164, doffed, put off.
Dyght, i. 30, dressed, put on.
Dyht, ii. 14, to dispose, order.
Dynt, i. 30, dynte, i. 31, dyntes, i.
32, dint, blow, stroke.
Dystrayne, ii. 37, afflict.
Dyyt, ii. 24, dight, dressed.
GLOSSARY.
3S5
Eame, uncle.
Eard, earth.
Earn, ii. 70, to curdle, make cheese.
Eathe, i. 273, easy.
Eather, iii. 100, either.
Eche, ii. 246, each.
Ee, i. loi, 178, ii. 60 ; een, i. 320,
eye, eyes.
Eene, iii. 75, ez'en.
Eliund, iii. "^oi, pour forth.
Eftsoon, iii. 304, /;/ a short time.
Egge, ii. 259, to urge on.
Eik, ii. 83, also.
Eiked, ii. 85, added, enlarged.
Ein, i. 145, e7'en.
Eir, i. loi, 146, 320, ever.
Eise, ii. 212, ease.
Eke, ii. 13, also.
Eldridge, i. 64, y%, luild, hideous.,
ghostly, lonesome, joiinhadited.
"In the ballad of ^/r Gi'/^//'«6'
we have ' Eldridge Hills,' p. 65,
' Eldridge Knight,' p. 65, ' Eld-
ridge Sword.' p. 67. So Gawin
Douglas calls the Cyclops the
' Elriche Brethir,' i.e. brethren
(b. ii. p. 91, 1. 16), and in his
Prologue to b. vii. (p. 202, 1. 3)
he thus describes the Night-
Owl :—
" * Laithely of forme, with crukit
camscho beik,
" ' Ugsome to here was his wyld
clrische skreik.'
" In Bannatyne's MS. Poems
(fol. 135, in the Advocate's Li-
brary at Edinburgh) is a whim-
sical rhapsody of a deceased old
woman travelling in the other
world ; in which
" ' Scho wanderit, and yeid by,
to an Elrich well.'
" In the Glossary to G. Dou-
glas, Klrichc, &c. is explained
by ' Wild, hideous : Lat. Trux,
immanis;' but it seems to imply
somewhat more, as in Allan
' Ramsay's Glossaries." P.
Elke, each.
Ellas, ii. 20, else.
EUumynynge, i. 12'^, embellishing.
Elyconys, i. 119, Helicon's.
3 c
Elvish, peexiish, fantastical.
Eme, i. 44, ii. 9, uncle., kinsman.
Endyed, i. 123, dyed.
Ene, eyn, eyes.
Ene, ei'ot.
Enharpid, i. 12"^^, hooked or edged.
Enkankered, cankered.
Enouch, iii. 100, enough.
Enowe, i. 275, enough.
Ensue, ii. \i, follow.
Entendement, ii. 382, understand-
ing.
Entent, ii. 49, intent.
Ententifly, ii. 3S2, to the intent,
purposely.
Envie ; envye, i. 42, malice, ill-
luill, injury.
Er, ii. 20, 26, are.
Ere, ii. 36, 42, ear.
Erlys, ii. 47 ; erles, iii. 94, earls.
Erst, i. 83, heretofore.
Etermynable, i. 126, inierfnitiable,
unlimited.
Ettled, ii. 116, aimed.
Evanished, iii. 133, vanished.
Everych, ii. 27, every; everych-
one, i. 156 ; iii. 108, every one.
Evv-bughts, iii. 74, pens for milch-
eives.
Eyen, i. 72 ; eyn, ii. 15 ; eyne, i.
132, eyes.
Ezar, iii. 97, 7naple.
Fa', i. 84, 1^6, fall ; fa's, iii. 123,
falls.
Fach, i. 33, feche,y^/^^.
Fader, iii. 365 ; fadir, i. 83; fatheris,
father, fatheris.
Fadge, iii. 236, a bundle of sticks,
a thick loaf of bread, coarse
heap of stuff.
Fadom, i. \02, fatho?n.
Fae, ii. \oc),foe.
Fain, ii. 69; faine, i. 164, 287;
faync, i. 157, glad, fond, well
pleased; faine of Hghte, i. 92,
fond of fighting.
Fair of fcir, of a fair and health-
ful look : perhaps, far off (free
from) fear. P.
Falds, iii. 123, thou foldest.
Failan,iii. \l^., falling.
Fals, ii. 2\2, false.
C
386
GLOSSARY.
Falser, iii. i6i, a deceiver, hypo-
crite.
Falsing, ii. 6i, dealing in false-
hood.
Fand, iii. yiA^, found.
Fang, ii. 26, 7nake off.
Fann'd, ii. 2^6, found.
Fannes, ittstrutneuts for winnow-
ing corn.
Fantacy, ii. 136 ; fantasye, ii. 160,
fancy.
Farden, i. "j 2, flashed.
Fare, i. 84, ii. 21, go forth, pass,
travel.
Fare, the price of a passage, shot,
reckoning.
Farley, i. 107, strange.
Fauht, i. 122, fought.
Fauld, ii. Z^, field.
Fauyt, ii. ■^o, fought.
Fawkon, i. \2, falcon.
Fawn, iii. 122, fallen.
Fawte, i. \22, fought.
Fay, i. 178 ; faye, i. 106, faith.
Fayrere, ii. /^^, fairer.
Faytors, i. 215, deceivers, dissem-
blers, cheats.
Fe, i. \']Z,fee, reward, also bribe.
Applied to lands and tene-
ments which are held by per-
petual right, and by acknow-
ledgment of superiority to a
higher lord.
Feare. In feare, ii. 149, company.
Feat, i. 300, nice, neat.
Featously, i. 306, tieatly, dexter-
ously.
Fedyrs, ii. 22, feathers.
Fee, ii. 1^0, property.
Feere, i. 63, 76, tnate, companion.
Feill, ii. ^6, fail {?).
Feil, fele, many.
Fairs, ii. 1 14, companions.
Feir, i. loi, ii. 82 ; feire, ii. 212,
fear.
Feit, i. 84, 102, feet.
Felawe, ii. \\, fellow.
Feld, ii. 2^, field.
Fell, i. 65, 78 ; ii. 19, furiotis,
fierce, keen, i. 306.
Fell, ii. 25, hide.
Feloy, ii. 2'^, fellow.
Fend, ii. 21 ; fende, ii. 59, defefid.
Fendys pray, i. 125, the prey of
thefietids.
Fere, ii. '}f),fear.
Fere, i. 64, 68, 73, 1 56, ii. 20, mate;
play-feres, i. ^<^, play-fellows.
Ferly,ii. 19, wonder j alsowonder-
fully, ii. 25.
Ferlyng, ii. %, furlong.
Ferr, i. 62, far.
Fersly, i. 160, fiercely.
Fesaunt, i. 42, pheasant.
Fest, ii. 27, feast.
Fet, ii. 128, iii. 193 ; fett, i. 286 ;
fette, i. 50, 68, fetched ; deepe-
fette, i. 76, deep-drawn.
Fethe, i. 2<^, faith.
Fettle, i. 116; fetteled, i. 108;
fettled, i. 113, 116, prepared,
addressed, made ready.
Fey, ii. 118, predestinated to some
misfortutie.
Feyytyng, ii. infighting.
Fie, ii. 82, sheep or cattle.
Fier, i. \\<^,fire.
Filde,field.
Filinge, iii. 63, defiling
Fillan, iii. \i\, filling.
Finaunce, i. \2^, fine, forfeiture.
Find frost, find mischance or dis-
aster.
Firth, ii. 85, copse, wood.
Fit, i. 27 ; fitt, ii. 177 ; fytte, i. 44,
part or division of a song.
Fitts, i.e. divisions or parts in
music, are alluded to in "Troilus
and Cressida," act. iii. sc. i.
(See Steevens's note.) P.
¥it,foot,feet; a fit, ii. 70, on foot.
Flatred, ii. 25, slit.
Flayne, iii. 2%,fiayed.
Flearing, i. 215, sneering.
Flee, iii. 97,fiy.
Fles, ii. 2\,fleece.
Fleyke, ii. 134, a large kind of
hurdle; cows are frequently
milked in hovels made of fleyks.
Flindars, iii. gj, pieces, splinters.
Flix, III. fijtx.
Flote, i. 201.
To flote is to flete or fleet, to
flit, to change position easily,
to move away quickly ; as
fleeting moments, flitting birds.
GLOSSARY.
;87
Flote and flete are two forms
of the same word ; and flutter
bears the same relation to tlote
that flitter does to flete.
In the Roxburt^he copy of
the ballad of IVillozo, WUhnu
this word is printed as " fleet."
(Roxb. Ballads, ed. Chappell,
part i. p. 172.)
Flout, ii. 179; Acute, i. 197, to
sneer J fflouting, i. 289.
Flowan, ii. "i^b^, flowing.
Flude, ii. '},(i\, flood.
Flyte, i. 196, 281, 288, to contend
with words, scold.
Fole, iii. \o?>, foal.
Fonde, ii. 12, contrive, endeavour,
try.
Fog, i. i,o,foe.
Fooder, ii. 66, wine tun; Germ.
fuder.
For, on account of.
For but, ii. 146, unless.
Forbode, commandment.
Force, no force, no matter.
Forced, ii. 76, regarded, heeded.
Forefend, i. 268 ; forfend, ii. 97,
prevent, defehd, avert, hinder.
Forewearied, over-wearied.
Forfeebled, ii. 107, enfeebled.
For-fought, ii. 25, oiier-fought.
Fors, ii. 21, strength.
Fors. I do no fors, ii. 16, / don't
care.
Forsede, i. 122, heeded, regarded.
Forst, ii. 76, regarded.
Forthynketh, i. 174, repenteth,
vexeth, troubleth.
Forthy, therefore.
Forwarde, i. 44, 7ian.
Forewatcht, ii. jj, over-wakeful,
kept awake.
Fosters of the fe, i. ij-,, foresters
of the king's demesnes.
Fot pot, ii. 9, with his foot push on.
Fote, i. ^<),foot.
You, i. 147, iii. 75 ; fow, iii. 99,
full, ViX'io fuddled.
. Fowkin, ii. 22, crepitus ventris.
Fox't, drunk.
Frae, i. i^,frofn.
Fraemang, ii. io'j,from among.
Fraid, i. 323, afraid.
Freake, i. 31, man, person, human
creature.
Freake, a whim or maggot.
Freckys, i. 29, tncji.
Freers, ii. 128 ; fryars,/;7<7;'jr.
Freits, i. 146, /'// omens, ill-luck.
Freke, i. 49, ii. 25, man; frekys,
ii. 25, men.
Freyke, ii. 135, humour, freak.
Freyke, i. 29, strong man.
Freyned, ii. 134, asked; freyned
that freake, ii. 134, asked that
man.
Frie, ii. 82 ; free.
Fro, i. 159 ; froe, i. 106, \y^,from.
Fru ward, forward.
Furth, ii. 21, forth.
Fuyson, i. 123 ; foyson, plenty,
also substance.
Fyer, ii. 55, 105, yf;vy fyerye, iii.
I \Z,flery.
Yytx%, fierce.
Fyhte, ii. 12, fight.
Fykkill, i. 122,, fickle.
Fyl'd, iii. 147, defiled.
Fyll, i. I2\,fell.
Ga, ii. 24 ; go; gais, ii. ^:„goes.
Ga, ii. W}), ga'je.
Gaberlunyie, ii. 71, a wallet ; ga-
berlunyie man, ii. 67, a tinker,
beggar, one ti'ho carried a wallet.
Gade, iii. 122, went.
Gadelyngj's, ii. 20, gadders, idle
fellows.
Gader>'d, ii. 27, gathered.
Gadryng, ii. 22, gathering.
Gae, ii. 70, gave.
Gae, i. 143; gaes, ii. 69, go,
goes.
Gaed, ii. 69, went.
Gair, ii. 86, strip of land.
Gair, i. 59, geer, dress.
Gait, iii. 95, gate.
Galliard, ii. 162, a sprightly kind
of dance.
Gamon, i. 67, to make game, to
sport. A.-S. ganicnianyW(v;/7.
Gan, i. 63, 129, 309, ii. 68, began.
Gan, i. 30 ; gane, i. 30, ii. 69,
gone.
Gang, i. 83, ii. 69, go.
Ganyde, i. 28, gained.
3S8
GLOSSARY.
Gar, ii. 70 ; iii. 94, gare, garre, i. 44,
make, cause, force, &c. ; gars, i.
321, makes.
Gard, iii. 97 ; garde, i. 28 ; garred,
garr'd, ii. 117; gart , iii. 97, made.
Gargeyld, i. 128, from gargouille,
the spout of a gutter. The
tower was adorned with spouts
cut in the figures of greyhounds,
lions, &c.
Garland, i. iii, the ring within
which the prick or mark was set
to be shot at.
Garth, ii. -y^i, garden, yard.
Gat, i. \\(i, got.
Gate, i. 108, way.
Gaup, ii. xy) gapes, waits.
Gear, i. 322, iii. 122, goods, effects,
stuff.
Gederede ys host, ii. 8, gathered
his host.
Geere, i. 274, 2^^, property.
Gef, ii. 31'^^''^^-
Geid, gave.
Geir, ii. 6(), gear, property.
Gerte, iii. i^y, pierced.
Gesse, ii. 49, guess.
Gest, ii. 85, act, feat, story, history.
Gettyng, i. 43, booty.
Geud, i. 10^, good.
Geve, ii. Sjjg^"^^-
Gibed, jeered.
Gi', i. 145 ; gie, i- \\^,give; gied,
i. "^21, gave.
Giff, i. 322 ; giffe, ii. 57, if
Gilderoy,i. -^20, red boy (or gillie);
Gaelic, Gille ruadh (pronounced
roy).
Gillore, ii. 2>^\,plefity.
Gimp, ii. 1 10, tieat, slender.
Gin, i, 60, iii. 74, //.
Gin, iii. 203 ; Ginn, iii. 53 ; e7igine,
contrivance.
Gins, ii. 53, begins.
Give, ii. 237 ; if.
Glave, ii. 115, sword.
Glede, i. 26, a red-hot coal.
Glent, i. 24, glanced.
Glente, iii. 356, slipped aside.
Gleyinge, i. 408, minstrelsy.
Glist, ii. wo, glistered.
Glose, i. 120, gloss over.
Glowr, iii. 75, stare ox frown.
Gloze, iii. 203, canting, dissimu-
latio7i,fair outside.
God before, God be thy guide, a
form of blessing.
So in Shakespeare's " King
Hen. V." (A. iii. sc. 8) the King
says: —
" My army's but a weak and
sickly guard ;
Yet, God before, tell him we
will come on." P.
Gode, ii. 2\, good.
Gods-pennie, ii. 140, earnest
mo7iey.
Gon, ii. 21, began.
Gone, go.
Good, a good deal.
Good-e'ens, ii. 68, good evenings.
Good-se peny, ii. 147, earnest
money.
Gorget, ii. 57, the dress of the neck.
Gorrel-bellyed, ii. 346, pot-bellied.
Gowan, ii. 364, the covwion yellow
crowfoot or gold cup, daisy.
Gowd, i. 145, iii. TSig^^^^S gowden
glist, ii. no, shone like gold/
gowden graith'd, ii. 230, capari-
soned withgolden accoutrements.
Graine, i. 158, i. 197, scarlet.
Graith'd, ii. 230, caparisoned.
Gramarye, i. 91 ; grammarye, i. 92,
grammar, abstruse leartiitig.
Gramercy, i. 173 ; gramercye, ii.
95, / thank you. Fr. grand-
mercie.
Graunge ; peakish graunge, i. 299,
a lone country house.
Graythed, ii. 21, made ready.
Gre, ii. 21, prise.
Grea-hondes, i. 24, grey-hounds.
Grece, i. 129, step, flight of steps.
Greece, fat J- hart of greece, i. 170,
a fat hart. Fr. graisse.
Greet, iii. 100, weep.
Grein, in. ys, green.
Gresse, i. 43, iii. 62, grass.
Gret, ii. 12, grieved.
Greves, i. 24, groves, bushes.
Grippel, ii. 2^4, griping, tenacious,
tniserly.
Grone, iii. groan.
Ground-wa', i. \\S-, grotindwall.
Growynde, i. 48, 49, ground.
GLOSSARY.
3S9
GrowTies, ii. 2^6, grounds.
Growte, ii. 256. In Northampton-
shire is a kind of small beer
extracted from the malt after the
strength has been drawn off.
In Devon it is a kind of sweet
ale medicated with eggs, said to
be a Danish liquor. (Growte is
a kind of fare much used by
Danish sailors, being boiled
groats, i.e. hulled oats, or else
shelled barley, served up very
thick, and butter added to it. —
Mr. Lambc.) P.
Grype, ii. 57, a grijffin.
Grysely groned, i. 49, dreadfully
groaned.
Gude, ii. 70, ^2, good.
Guerdon, iii. 18, reward.
Guid, i. Z^tigood.
Gule, iii. 7, red.
Gyb, ii. 22, nickname 0/ Gilbert.
Gybe, ii. 257, jibe, Jest, joke j
gybing, ii. 260.
Gyle, gyles, guile, guiles.
Gyn, ii. 9, engine, contrivance.
Gyrd, ii. 22, girded, las/ied.
Gyrdyl, ii. 22, girdle.
Gyse, guise, form, fashiofi.
Ha, i. 196, has ; hae, ii. '}\,have ;
haes, iii. 235, has.
Ha', i. 84, iii. 94, hall j ha's, ii.
109, halls.
Habbe ase he brew, ii. 8, have as
he brevjs.
Habergeon, a lesser coat of mail.
Hable, i. 121, able.
Hach-borde, ii. \<^i, probably that
part of the bulwark of the ship
which is removed to form the
gangway or entrance on board,
—in fact, the " hatch "—{or half-
door) ''board."
Half, ii. 82, have.
Haggis, ii. 1 32, a sheep's stomach
stuffed with a pudding made of
mince-meat, £r*c.
Hail, ii. 83, healthful.
Hair, ii. 81, 86, hoar or grey.
Halch, iii. 325, salute.
Halched, i. 2^0, saluted, embraced,
fell on his neck.
Halesome, ii. 142, wholesome,
healthy.
Halse, iii. 75, the neck, throat.
Halt. ii. 16, holdeth.
Ham, ii. 21, them.
Hame, i. 143, home; hameward,
ii. 84, homeward.
Han, ii. 13, have.
Handbow, the long-bow or com-
mon bow, as distinguished from
the cross-bow.
Hap, i. 255 ; happ, iii. 138 ; happe,
i. 283, fortune ; hap, i. 2S7,
chance, happen, i. 303.
Hard, ii. 312, heard.
Hare . . . swerdes, ii. 8, their . . .
s7ifords.
Harflue, ii. 30, Harfleur.
Harlocke, i. 307, perhaps charlock,
or wild rape, which bears a yel-
low flower, and grows among
corn, (2^T.
Harneis, i. 273, armour.
Harnisine,ii. 112, harness, armour.
Harrowe, i. 2S0, harass.
Harowed, i. 164, harassed, dis-
turbed.
Hart, iii. 128, heart ; hartes, i. 50 ;
harts, i. 138 ; hartis, i. 147.
Hartely, ii. 38, earnestly.
Hartly lust, i. 124, hearty desire.
Harwos, ii. 27, harrows.
Haryed, i. 41, 22, pillaged.
Hastarddis, i. \2o, perhaps hasty,
rash fellows, or upstarts.
Hatcht, ii. yj, seised.
Hauld, i. 143, hold.
Hauss bone, iii. 75, the neck bone
{halse bone), a phrase for the
neck.
Have owre, i. 102, half over.
Haves, ii. 20, effects, substance,
riches.
Haveth, ii. 8, has.
Haviour, i. 304, behaviour.
Hawberke, i. 66, a coat of mail,
consisting of iron rings, (S^t .
Hawkin, ii. 19, diminutive of
Harry, from Ilalkin.
Hay He, i. 43, hale, strong.
He, i. 171, hie, hasten.
He, i. 24, high.
Heal, i. 29, hail.
390
GLOSSARY.
Hear, i. 103, here.
Heare, ii. 77 ; heares, hair, hairs.
Heathynesse, iii. 40, heathai-
do7n.
Heawying, i. 31, heii'ing^hackiiig.
Hech, ii. 27, hatch, half door of a
cottage (sometimes spelt heck).
" Dogs leap the hatch," iTw/^
Lear, act. iii. sc. 6.
'"He'll have to ride the /ir«/^/i'
is a familiar phrase about Looe,
and signifies ' He'll be brought
to trial.' It is generally used
jocosely in the case of any loud
professor of religion who has
been ' overtaken in a fault ;' and
the idea is that his trial will be
the ordeal of attempting to ride
or sit on the top or narrow edge
of a hatch or half-door, when if
he maintain his seat he will be
pronounced innocent, if he fall
he is guilty. If he fall inwards
{i.e. within the room or build-
ing), he will be pardoned, but
if he fall outwards, he will be
excommunicated." W. Pengelly
{Devonshire A ssociation Repot t,
vol. vii. p. 488).
Hecht to lay thee law, promised
{engaged) to lay the low.
Hed, hede, head; hedys, ii. 25,
heads.
Hede, ii. 12, had.
Hede, hied.
Hee, i. 42, high.
Heele, i. 291, he ivill.
Hees, ii. 70, he is.
Heght, ii. \ 17, promised.
Heiding hill, ii. 231, the heading
{or beheadijig) hill. The place
of execution was anciently an
artificial hillock.
Heigh, iii. 94, high.
Heil, ii. 81, heatth.
Heir, ii. 83, here j also hear;
herid, iii. ()6, heard.
Hele, ii. 42, health.
Helen, ii. 15, heal.
Helpeth, ii. 12, help ye.
Hem, ii. 13, thctn.
Hend, i. 72, i. 74, 80, kind, gentle,
courteous.
Henne, ii. 8, hence.
Hent, ii. 26, laid hold of.
Hepps and hawes, ii. 284, hips
and haws.
Herault, ii. 59, herald.
Her, ii. 393, hear.
Her, ii. 35, their.
Here, ii. 42, hair.
Herkneth, ii. 7, hearken ye.
Herry, ii. 19, Harry.
Hert, i. 59, heart.
Hes, ii. 80, has.
Hest, hast.
Hest, i. 67, command, injunction,
Het, ii. 346, heated.
Hete, ii. 41, heat.
Hether, hither.
H ether, heather, heath.
Hett, iii. 6, bid, call, commattd.
Heuch, ii. 86, rock or steep hill.
Hevede, ii. 9, had, hadst ; hev-
edest, ii. 12.
Hevenriche, ii. 12, heavenly.
Hewberke, i. 72, coat of tnail.
Hewkes, iii. 26, party-coloured
coats of the heralds.
Hewyns in to, hewti in two.
Hey-day guise, iii. 204, rustic
dances, a corruption of '■^heyde-
gies."
Heynd, ii. Z2, gentle, obliging.
Heyye, ii. 13, high.
Hi, hie, he.
Hicht, a-hicht, oft height.
Hie, i. 32, high; hier, ii. 169,
higher; hire, iii. 324.
Hight, i. 29, 270, 286, promise,
promised, engaged, also named,.
called.
Hilt, ii. 98, taken off, flayed.
Hinch hoys, pages of honour.
Hind, ii. 70, behind.
Hinde, i. yi,ge7itle.
Hings, iii. 97, hangs.
Hinnible, iii. 304, horse, or pony.
Hinny, ii. 84, honey.
Hip, iii. 99, the berry which con-
tains the stones or seeds of the
dog-rose.
Hir, i. 143 ; hire, iii. 207, her;^
hir lain, iii. 95, herself alone.
Hird, ii. 81, het-d.
Hirsel, i. 143, herself.
GLOSSARY.
391
Hit, ii. 13, it; hit be write, ii. 12,
// de uritten.
Hode, i. 164, hood, cap.
Holden, ii. 14, hold.
Hole, i. 124, 126, iii. 2S0, luhok.
Hollen, iii. 325, holly.
Holp, i. 120, helps holpe, iii. 32,
helped.
Holt, ii. 140, wood.
Holies, i. 42, woods, gro7'es. In
Norfolk a plantation of cherry-
trees is called a '' cherrj- holt."
P.
Holtis hair, ii. Si, 86, homy or
grey woods or heaths.
" Holtes seems evidently to
signify hills in the following
passage from Turberville's
"Songs and Sonnets," i2mo.
1567, fol. 56 : —
" Yee that frequent the hilles,
And highest Holtes of all ;
Assist me with your skilfuU
quilles,
And listen when I call."
" As also in this other verse of
an ancient poet : —
" Underneath the Holtes so
hoar." P.
Holy, wholly.
Holy-rode, ii. 22, holy cross ; holye
rood, ii. 56.
Honde, /i^7«^/y honden wrynge, ii.
1 1 , hands wring.
Hondert, i. 50, hundred.
Hondrith, i. 24, 25, y:), 32, 34,
hundred.
Hong, ii. 77 ; honge, i. \6l,hang;
hung, i. 308.
Hooly, iii. 134, slowly, gently.
Hophalt, limping, hopping, and
halting.
Hore, iii. 327, whore.
Hount, i. 26, hunt.
Houzle, ii. 60, give the sacrament.
Hoved, i. 129, heaved; hovered,
i-43-
Howers, ii. 234, hours.
Huche, ii. 81, wood, or a shed.
Hud, ii. 23, proper name.
Hue, ii. 12, she. A.-S. heo ; refers
to huerte, which is feminine. It
is an interesting example of the
continuance of a grammatical
gender in English.
Huerte trewe, ii. 11, true heart.
Huggle, iii. 72, hug, clasp.
Hull, i. 307, /////.
Hur, ii. 20 ; hurr, ii. 24, her.
Hye, i. 136, high, highest; hyest,
ii. 59 ; hyer, iii. 63, hire.
Hyght, i. j\4., promised or engaged.
Hyght, high; on hyght, i. 41^ 47,
aloud.
Hyllys, i. 32, hills.
Hynd out o'er, ii. 115, over the
country.
Hyp-halte, ii. 27, lame in the hip.
Hyrdyllys, ii. 27, hurdles.
Hys, ii. 20, his.
Hyssylton, ii. 19, Islitigton.
Hyt, hytt, ii. 49, //.
H)yt, ii. 20, projnised.
I-clipped, i. 129, called.
I-feth, i. 29, in faith.
I-lore, ii. 13, lost.
I -strike, ii. 16, stricken, struck.
I-trovve, verily.
I-tuned, tufied.
I -ween, verily.
I-wis, i. 276, verily; I-wys,i.68, 70.
I -wot, verily.
Ich, ii. 286, I; ich biqueth, ii. 12,
/ bequeath.
Ich, ii. 22; icha, ii. 25, each.
Ide, iii. 72, I would.
lid, ii. 69, I'd, I would.
He, i. 196, I'll, I will.
Illfardly, ii. 70, ill -favoiiredly ,
uglily.
Ilk, same ; this ilk, this same.
Ilk on, ii. 21, each one ; ilka, ilke,
every; ilka ane, iii. 122, every
one.
Im, i. 103, him.
Ime, i. 198, ii. 57, I am.
Incontinent, iii. xZ"], forthwith.
In fere, ii. 36, together, in company.
Ingle, ii. 6'6,fire.
Inogh, ii. 26, enough; inoughe, ii.
147, enough.
Into, iii. 238, in.
Intres, i. 12% entrance, admittance.
Irke, ii. 148, angry.
392
GLOSSARY.
Is, i. 149, ii. 8, his.
Ise, ii. 211, iii. 236, I shall.
I'st, i. 289, 292, /'//.
It's neir, it shall never.
lye, i. 432, eye.
Janglers, ii. 85, talkative persons,
wranglers, tell-tales.
Jear, ii. 1 1 8, derision.
Jetted, iii. 186, strutted, or went
proudly.
Jille, iii. TJ, used here as a man's
name.
Jimp, i. 145, slender.
Jo, i. 320, ii. 132, sweetheart, friend,
contraction oijoy.
Jogelers, i. w\, jugglers.
Jow, iii. I T)^,single stroke in tolling.
Juncates, iii. 202, junket, curds
and clouted creajn.
Jupe, ii. 116, an tipper garment.
Kail, i. 125, call.
Kama, iii. \\'],combj kameing, iii.
97, co?nbi7tg.
Kan, i. 123, 430, can.
Kantle, iii. 26, piece, corner.
Karlis of kynde, i. 120, churls by
nature.
Kauk, ii. 71, chalk.
Kauld, i. 103, called.
Keel, ii. 71, ruddle.
Keepe, i. 309, ii. 256, care, heed.
So in the old play of " Hick
Scorner," " I keepe not to clymbe
so hye ;" i.e. I study not, care
not, &c.
Keip, ii. 82, keep ; ii. 84, watch.
Keipand, ii. 82, keeping.
Kell, iii. loi, 7iet for a wom,an's
hair.
Kembe, iii. 100, 186, to comb;
kembing, iii. 102, combing;
kemb'd, iii. 302, combed.
Kempe, i. 90, 94, ii. 183, soldier,
warrior.
Kemperye man, i. 94, soldier,fight-
ing man.
" Germa7iis Camp, Exerci-
tum, aut Locum ubi Exercitus
castrametatur, signifcat : inde
ipsis Vir Castrensis et Mill tar is
kemffer, et kempher, ct kemper,
et kimber, et kamper, pro varie-
tate dialectorum, vacatur: Vo-
cabulum hoc nostro sermone
notidutn penitus exolevit; Nor-
folciefises enim plebeio et prole-
tario ser7none dicunt ' He is a
kemper old man, i.e. Senex Ve-
getus est:' Hitic Cimbris suufn
nomen : ' kimber cfmn Homo
bellicosus, pugil, robustus jniles,
&^c. sigmfcat.' Sheringham de
Anglor. gentis. orig.pag. 57. Rec-
tiz^s autem Lazius[a.pudeundem,
p. 49]. ' Cimbros a bello quod
kamff, et Saxottice kamp Jiuncu-
patos credideritn : unde bella-
tores viri Die Kempffer, Die
Kemper.' " P.
Kems, i. 102, combs.
Ken, ii. 69, kftowj kens, iii. 122,
knows ; kenst, i. 196, knowest.
Kend, ii. 70, knew j known, iii.
99 ; kenn'd, ii. 365.
Kene, ii. 15, keen.
Kepand, ii. 81, keeping.
Kepers, i. 181. " Those that watch
by the corpse shall tye up my
winding-sheet." P.
Kester, i. 276, nicktiame for Chris-
topher.
Kever chefes, kerchiefs or head
covers. (See vol. 3, p. 356.)
Kexis, ii. 27, elder sticks tised for
candles.
Kilted, iii. 132, tucked tip.
Kind, ftature. To carp is our
kind, it is natural for us to talk
of J of hir kind, ii. 1 54, of her
fafnily.
Kirk, iii. 75 ; kirke, i. 137, church;
kirk wa', iii. 238, church wall,
or churchyard wall; kirkyard,
i. 243, iii. 132, churchyard.
Kirns to kirn, ii. 70, churns to
churn.
Kirtle,i. 222, apetticoat,a woman's
gown.
Kist, ii. 69, chest.
Kit, i. 123, C2it.
Knave, servant.
Knaw, ii. 82, know.
Knellan, iii. 134, knelling, ringing
the knell.
GLOSSARY
393
Knicht, iii. 237, knii:[Jif.
Knight's fe, such a portion 0/ land
as required the possessor to
scn'c li'itli man and horse.
Knowles, knolls, little hills.
Knyled, i. 32, knelt.
Kowarde, i. 46, coward.
Kowe, ii. 21, cow.
Kuntrey, i. 124, country.
Kurteis, i. 125, courteous.
Kyd, ii. 21, shown.
Kye, ii. 134, kine, cows.
Kyrtel., ii. 42 ; kyrtell, i. 65, petti-
coat, gown, a 7nan's under gar-
ment.
"Bale, in his 'Actes of Eng.
Votaries' (part ii. fol. 53), uses
the word Kyrtle to signify a
monk's frock. He says, Roger,
Earl of Shrewsbur}-, when he
was dying, sent ' to Clunyake,
in France, for the kyrtle of holy
Hugh the abbot there,' &c." P.
Kyhe, i. 427, 7nake appear, show,
dclare.
Kythed, appeared.
Laigh,ii. 117, Ivw.
Laith, i 101, ii. 70, loth.
Laithly, loathsome, hideous.
Laitl, i. 03, little.
Lamb s w^ol, iii. 183, a liquor corn-
posed of. lie and roasted apples.
Lane, \dL^\n,to>ie; her lane, ii. 69 ;
hir lain, ii. 95, alone by her-
self.
Lang, i. loi, i. 20, long.
Lang'd, ii. 107 longed.
Langsome, i. 3.1, long, tedious.
Lap, iii. 93, 95, 'eaped.
Largesse, iii. 26, r//"/, liberality.
Lasse, ii. 13, less.
Late, ii. 47, let.
Latte, ii. 12, hinder
Lauch, i. 101, laug, ; lauched, i.
10 1, laughed.
Laundc, i. 170, clear space in a
forest.
Lawlands, ii. 227, lowltuds.
Lay, i. 79, law.
Layde, i. 291, lady.
Layden, i. 66, laid.
Layland, i. 66, 67, 79, green zuard.
Laylands, i. 73, latids in general.
Layne, lain, laid.
Lajne, i. 45, 46, deceive, break one's
word.
Lazar, ii. 55, hper.
Leal, ii. 69, loyal, honest, true.
Leane, conceal, hide.
Lear'd, i. 307, pastured.
Lease, lying, falsehood; withouten
lease, i. 170, verily, without
lying.
Lease, iii. 102, leash, thong, cord.
Leasynge, lying, falsehood.
Leaute, ii. 7, loyalty.
Lee, ii. 68, lea, field, pasture.
Lee, iii. 96, lie.
Leeche, i. 63, 75, 77, physician.
Leechinge, i. 63 ; leedginge, i. 77,
doctoring, medicinal care.
Leek, phrase of contempt.
Leel, ii. 1 1 2, true.
Leer, look.
Leeve London, i. 273, iii. loi,
dear London.
Leever, i. 160, sooner.
Leeveth, i. 88, believe th.
Lefe, i. 173, dear.
Lcfe, leave ; leves, leaves.
Leffe, leefe, dear.
Leid, iii. 96, lyed.
Leil, ii. 85, loyal, true.
Leir, ii. 82, learn; lere, i. 306,
lear?iing.
Leive, i. 84, iii. 236, lea7'e.
Leman, i. 186, 327; leiman, i. 301 ;
lemman, iii. 97, lover, mistress.
Lemster wooll, i. 307, Leomitister
wool.
Lene, ii. 12,, give.
Lenger, i. 64, ii. 20, longer.
Lengeth in, resideth in.
Lere, i. 72, face, comitenance, com-
plexion.
Lese, ii. 26, lose.
Lesynge, i. 174 ; leasing, lying,
falsehood.
Let, i. 24, hinder ; lett, ii. 85,
hindrance.
Lett, i. 93, left or let be opened.
Lettcst, i. 74, hinderest, detainest.
Letteth, i. \b^, hindereth.
Lettyng, i. 172, hindrance, without
delay.
394
GLOSSARY.
Leugh, ii. ii8 ; leuche, ii. 8i,
laughed.
Leve, ii. 38, retnain.
Lever, i. 46, 71, 75, 173, rather j
lever than, ii. 39, rather then.
Leves and bowes, ii. 42, leaves
and boughs.
Lewd, i. 308; leud, ii. 134, ignorant,
sca?uialoHS.
Ley, iii. 123, lay.
Leyke, ii. 135,^/^/.
Leyre, lere, learning, lore.
Libbard, leopard; libbard's bane,
iii. 198, the herb wolf bane.
Lichtly, iii. 147, lightly, easily.
Lig, i. 144, iii. 70, ^liej ligge, ii. 11 ;
liggd, ii. 83, lay.
Lightfoote, iii. 182, venison.
Lightile, i. 161, quickly.
lJi^\\tsomt,\.6^,cheerful,sprightly.
Limber, ii. 260, supple, flexible.
Limitoures, iii. 20%, friars licensed
to beg within certain limits.
Limitatioun, iii. 208, a certain
precinct allowed to a limitour.
Lingell, i. 308, a thread of hemp
rubbed with resin, &c., used by
rustics for mending their shoes.
lAre, flesh, complexion.
List, i. 256; lith, ii. 11, lieth.
Lith, i. 156; lithe, i. 268; lythe,
attend, hearkefi, listen.
Lither, i. 94, iii. 47, idle, lazy,
naughty, worthless, wicked.
Live-lang, iii. 132, live-long.
Liver, i. 282, deliver.
Liverance, i. 282, 289, deliverance
{money or a piledge for deliver-
ing you tip).
Livor, i. 289, deliver.
Load ; lay on load, i. 74, give
blows.
Lodly, ii. 63 ; lodlye, ii. 56, loath-
some.
Loe, ii, 70, iii. 99, love j lo'ed, iii.
98, loved.
Logeyng, i. 43, lodging.
Loht, ii. 9 ; be the luef, be the loht,
whether you like it or loathe it.
Loke, i. 308, lock of wool.
Lokyd, ii. 73 ; lokyde, i. 25, locked.
Lome, ii. 63, tnan, object.
Lond, iii. 207, la7id.
Longes, i. 218, belongs; longeth^
ii. 43, belongeth.
Longs, i. 30, lungs.
Looket, i. 149, looked.
Loone, ii. 145, idle fellow.
Looset, i. 115, loosed.
Lope, i. 65, 80, ii. 217, leapt.
Lore, ii. 9, 13, teaching, lesson ^
doctrine, learning.
Lore, lost.
Lorrel, i. 441, a sorry, worthless
person.
Losel,ii. iT,4.,i4$,thesameasLorrel.
Lothly, ii. 142, loathsome.
" The adverbial terminations
-some and -ly were applied in-
differently by our old writers :
thus, as we have lothly for
loathsome above, so we have
ugsome in a sense not veiy
remote from tigly in Lord Sur-
rey's version of yEn. 2nd, viz —
" ' In every place the ugsome
sightes I saw' (p. 29)." P.
Loud and still, ii. 82, openly and
secretly.
Lough, i. 95, laugh; lougat, ii.
282, laughed.
Loun, i. 322, loon, rascal.
Lounge, iii. 357, hoig.
Lourd, iii. 100, rather (f
Lout, ii. 117; loute, ii. :6, stoop.
Louted, i. 72; lowtede,<^(?w^rt?, did
obeisance.
Lowe, i. 1 14, a little till.
Lowne, i. 198, rascal
Lowns, ii. 113, blazs.
Lowttede, i. 1 20, couched.
Lude, ii. 82, loved
Lued, i. 323, lovei-
Luef, ii. 9, love.
Lues, iii. 75, lores, love.
Lugh, ii. 26, Icsighed.
Luik, i. \\(3,look; luiks, i. 146,
looks; luilc, ii. 229, looked.
Luivt, ii. 82 loved.
Lung, ii. 2!> long.
Lurden, i 163; lurdeyne, slug-
gard, (fone.
Lust, ii.+2, desire.
Luve, ' 320, love; luver, ii. 212,
love-
Luvey, i- I43> lovely.
GLOSSARY.
395
Lyan, iii. 134, lying.
Lyard, ii. 9, grcyj a tiaine given
to a horse from its grey colour^
as Bayard from bay.
L>'flr, ii. 49, life.
Lyk. i. 28 ; lyke, ii. 3S, like.
Lynde, i. 168; lyne, i. 112, the
liine-tree.
Lys, ii. 12, lies.
Lystenyth, iii. 371, listen.
Lyth, i. 306, easy, gentle, pliant,
flexible., lithesome.
Lyvar, i. 30, lii'er
Lyven na more, live no more, no
longer.
Lyytfii. 27, light; lyytly, ii. 26,
lightly
Mad, ii. 24, made.
Mahound, i. 88, Mahomet.
Maining, ii. 211, moaning.
Mair, ii. 84, more, most.
Maist, i. 42, mayest.
Mait, iii. 99, might, may.
Majeste, maist, mayeste, mayest.
Makes, i. 50, ii. 78, mates.
Making, versifying.
Makys, i. 33, 'tnates.
*' As the words make and mate
were, in some cases, used pro-
miscuously by ancient writers,
so the words cake and cate
seem to have been applied with
the same indifferency ; this will
illustrate that common English
proverb, ' to turn cat {i.e. cate)
in pan.' A pancake is in North-
amptonshire still called a pan-
cate." P.
Male, i. 28, coat of mail; shirt of
male, ii. 233.
Manchet, iii. 206, best kind of
white bread
Mane, i. 26, man.
Mangonel, ii. 8, a military engine
used for discharginggreat stones,
arro7i's,Sr'e., before the invention
of gunpowder.
March perti, i. 33 ; march partes,
i. 34, /// the parts lying upon
the marches.
Marth-pine, i. 306 ; marchpane, a
kind of biscuit.
Mare ii. 25, more.
Margarite, ii. 328, a pearl.
Mark, a coin, in value ly. 4//.
Marke hym to the Trenitii, co7n-
mit himself to God.
Marrow, ii. 109, 363, match, or
equal companion.
Mart, ii. 82 , marred, hurt, damaged.
Marvelit, iii. 23S, mat veiled.
Mast, maste, mafst.
Masterje, i. no; maystery, i. 176,
a trial of skill.
Maugre, ii. 8 ; mauger, i. 23, in
spite of.
INIaugre, ii. 83, /// will.
Maun, i. 84, 143, 145, must.
Mavis, iii. 97, a thrush.
Mawt, iii. 123, malt.
May, i. 63, 1 1 3 ; maye, i. 46, maid.
Mayne, i. 122, force, strength.
Mayne, a horse's mane.
Mayny, i. 120, a company.
Maze, a labyrinth, anything en-
tangled or intricate.
" On the top of Catherine-hill,
Winchester (the usual play-place
of the school), was a very per-
plexed and windingpath,running
in a very small space over a great
deal of ground, called a Miz-
Maze. The senior boys obliged
the juniors to tread it, to prevent
the figure from being lost, as I
am informed by an ingenious
correspondent." P.
Mazer, iii. 97, drinking cup of
tnaple.
Me, men; me con, ii. 13, men
began.
Me-thuncketh, ii. 11, methinks.
Meane, ii. 259, moderate, middle-
sized.
Meany, i. 24, 25, retinue, train,
company.
Mease, ii. 1 19, soften, mollify.
Meed, meede, i. 74, iii. 22, reward.
Meet, iii. 132, even.
Meid, mood.
Meikle, iii. 238, much.
Meit, iii. 95, meat.
Meit, ii. 83, 115, meet, fit, proper.
MekyI, ii. 21, much.
Mcll, ii. 260, honey.
396
GLOSSARY.
Mell, meddle, mingle.
Meniveere, i. 308, a species of fur.
Mense the faught, ii. 116, to mea-
sure the battle.
" To give to the mense is to
give above the measure. Twelve
and one to the mense is com-
mon with children in their play."
P.
Menzie, ii. 113, retinue, company.
Merch, ii. 115, march.
Merchis, i. 34, marches.
Merth, merthe, ii. 31, mirth.
Messager, ii. 12, messenger.
Mete, i. 180, meet, fit, proper.
Mewe, ii. 254, confinement.
Micht, ii. 230, might.
Mickle, i. 65, 66, 72, 76, 137, 306,
much, great.
Midge, iii. 233, a small insect, a
kifid of gnat.
Mids, ii. J7, midst.
Minged, i. 66, 79, me7itio7ied.
Minny, ii. 69, mother.
Mirk, ii. 120 ; mirkie, iii. 154,
dark, black.
Mirry, i. loi, 143, ii. 82, merjy;
mirriest, ii. 391, merriest.
Mirry-land toune, i. 59
Misconster, ii. 349, miscotistrue.
Misdoubt, i. 302, suspect, doubt.
Miskaryed, miscarried.
Misken, i. 197, mistake.
Mister, to 7ieed.
Mith, iii. 45, might.
Mither, i. 60, 83, 145, mother.
Mo, i. 30, 161, ii. 16 ; moe, ii.
289, more.
Moche, ii. 47, micch.
Mode, 7Hood.
Moder, i. 126, tnother.
Moiening, ii. 382, by 77iea7is of.
Mome, ii. 258, blockhead.
Mon, ii. II, 77ta7i.
Mone, ii. ;^7, 7710071.
Mone lyyt, ii. 25, 77ioo7tlight.
Mone, ii. 35, iii. 127, 77ioa7t.
Monand, iii. 64, moa7ii7ig, be77ioa7i-
i7ig.
Monnynday, i. 24, 34, Mo7iday.
Mony, ii. 8, 13, 68, 77ia7ty.
More, iii. 17, "originally and pro-
perly signified a hill (from A.-S.
mor, 771071S), but the hills of the
north being generally full of
bogs, a moor came to signify
boggy, marshy, ground in gene-
ral." P.
Mores and thefenne, ii. 8, hill and
dale ; mores brodinge, i. 64, 78,
wide 77ioors.
Morne, i. loi ; to morn, ii. 20, 83,
071 the 77iorrow, i7i the mor7iing.
Mornyng, ii. 49, 77iour7ii7ig.
Morwenynges, iii. 208, mor7ii7tgs.
Mort, i. 25, dead stag.
Most, 77lUSt.
Mot, i. 121, 126, 77iay.
Mote, i. 157, 77tight ; mote I thee,
ii. 97, 77iay I thrive.
Mou, ii. 70, 771021th.
M ought, i. 68, 169, 308, 77tight,
77iay it, ii. 302.
Mowe, ii. 13, 31, 7/iay.
Muchele host, ii. 8, great boast.
Mude, ii. 82, 77iood.
Muid, i. 147, 77iood.
Mulne, ii. 8, ;«///.
Mun, i. 63, 66, 77iust.
Mure, mures, wild dow7is, heaths,
S^c.
Murn, ii. 85 ; murnd, ii. 86 ;
murnit, ii. 81 ; murnt, ii. 84 ;
murning, ii. 83,;«^z^r«,W£'«r«^rtr,
77lOUr7li7lg.
Muve, ii. 366, 7nove; muvit, ii. 39,
77ioved.
Mykel, i. 46, great.
Myllan, i. 29, Milan steel.
Myn, ii. 12, 77iy.
Myne-ye-ple, i. 28, probably a cor-
ruptio7i of 77ia/ioplc, a large
gaH7itlet.
Myrry, 77ierry.
Mysuryd, i. 123, 77iisused, applied
to a bad pu7pose.
Myyt, ii. 26, 7night ; myyty,
77iighty.
Na, ii. 12 ; nae, 710, 710 f, 7io7ie.
Naebody, ii. 139, nobody.
Naithing, ii. 70, 7iothi7ig.
Nane, i. 320, ii. 70, iii. 75, 7io7ic.
Nappy, iii. 182, strong, as ale.
Nar, i. 25, 27, nare, i. 30, nor.
Nat, i. 143) ii- 35, «^^-
GLOSSARY.
397
Natheless. ii. 264, nevertheless.
N'availeth not, ii. \6,availeth not.
Ne, ii. 12, no, nor, not.
Near, ner, nere, ne'er, never.
Neat, oxen, cows, large cattle j
neates leather, ii. 100, cowhide.
Neatherd, a keeper of cattle.
Neatresse, ii. 2^(), female keeper of
cattle.
Nee, i. 71, 17S, nigh.
Neigh him neare, i. 94, approach
him near.
Neir, i. 146, ne'er, never.
Neire, ii. 212 ; nere, 7tear.
Nemped, i. 409, named.
Nere, ii. 1 35 ; ne were, were it not for.
Nest, ii. 12, next, nearest.
Nethar, neither.
Neven, i. 396, name.
New fangle, iii. 7, new-fangled,
fond of novelty.
Nicht, ii. 85, night.
Nicked him of naye, i. 88, tiicked
him with a refusal.
J^'x^i, pinched.
No, 710 1.
Noble, a gold coin in value twenty
groats, or 6j*. 8^/.
Nobles, i. 120, nobleness.
Nocht, ii. 83, not.
Nock, iii. 295, the posteriors.
Nollys, ii. 21, noddles, heads.
Nom, ii. 12, took.
Nome, ii. 11, name.
Non, ii. 16, none.
None, i. 25, 31, ii. 37, noon.
Nones, ii. 27, nonce.
Nonys, ii. 22, nonce or occasion.
Norland, iii. 237, northern.
Norse, NorT.uay.
Norss menzie, ii. 114, the Norse
army.
North-gales, iii. 26, North Wales.
Nou, ii. 9, now.
Nourice, tiurse.
Nout, ii. 8, nought, also not, ii. 14.
Nowght, nought.
Nowls, noddles, heads.
Noye, ii. 26, hurt.
Noyt, ii. 24, nought, not.
Ny, ii. 49 ; n>e, '• ^2,f->, nigh; nyest,
ii. 59, nighest.
Nyyt, ii. 27, night.
O, ii. 8, one J O', iii. 99, ofj O, ii.
9, on.
O wow, ii. 68, an exclamation.
Obraid, iii. 99, upbraid.
Occupied, i. 121, used.
Ocht, ought.
Off, ii. 177, of.
Oloft, ii. 25, on horseback.
On, ii. 49, one, an.
On loft, ii. 22, aloft.
Onfowghten, unfoughten, un-
fought.
Ony, ii. 84, any.
Onys, ii, 23, o)ice.
Opon, ii. 8, 7ipon.
Or, ii. 42, before ever.
Ore, iii. 128, over.
Orisons, prayers.
Ost, i. 28, ii. 24, iii. 36 ; oste, i. 42,
43, 44 ; ooste, i. 272, host.
Osterne, i. 291, austere.
0th, othe, iii. 49, oath.
Ou, ii. \2,you.
Ous, ii. 8, us.
Out-owr, i. 147, quite over, over.
Outbrayd, ii. 45, drew out, un-
sheathed.
Outhorne, i. 167, the sum7noning
to arms by the sound of a horn.
Outrake, i. 285, 292, an out ride
or expedition J toraik is to go fast.
" Outrake is a common term
among shepherds. When their
sheep have a free passage from
enclosed pastures into open and
airy grounds they call it a good
outrake." (Mr. Lambe.) P.
Owar, i. 31, hour.
Oware of none, i. 25, hour of noon.
Owches, iii. 316, bosses.
Owre, i. 144, ii. 70; or'cr, o'er;
ere, i. loi.
Owreword, iii. 124, the last 7vordy
burden of a song.
Pa, i. 59.
l\acking, i. \2\. dealing.
Pall, i. 89 ; palle, i. 71, a cloak or
robe of state.
Palmer, iii. 113, ^ pilgrim who,
havifig been in the Holy Land,
carried a palm branch in his
hand.
98
GLOSSARY.
Paramour, i. 310, gallant, lover;
mistress, ii. 45.
Pard^, ii. 41 ; perdie, verily (par
Dieu).
Paregall, i. 124, equal.
Parle, iii. 36, speak or parley.
Parti, party ; a parti, i. 26, apart
or aside.
Partynere, ii. \\, partner.
Pat, ii. \-^2,pot.
Pattering, iii. 9, '■'■ murmuring,
7mimbling, frotn the mattner in
•which the Paternoster was an-
ciently hurried over in a low
inarticulate voice." P.
Pauley, ii. 68, shrewd, cunning,
sly.
Paves, i. 121, a pavice, a large
shield that covered the whole
body. Fr. pavois.
VdM\!^\2Si&, paviliofi, tent.
Pay, i. 173, liking, satisfaction.
Paynim, i. 65, 88, iii. \\, pagan.
Peakish, i. 299, rude, sitnple;
peakish hull, i. 307, perhaps the
Derbyshire Peak.
Peare, i. 80, peer, equal.
Pearlins, iii. 75, coarse sort of bone-
lace.
Vqcq, piece of cannon.
Pee, i. \\%, piece.
Peere, i. 73, ^T, equal.
Pees, ii. 7, peace.
Pele, ii. 24, a baker's long-handled
shovel.
Penon, a banner or streainer borne
at the top of a lance.
Pentarchye, ii. 345,_/f't/^ heads.
Perchmine, parchtnent.
Perde, i. 187, verily.
Perelous, parlous, perilous, dan-
gerous.
Perfay, ii. 85, verily.
Perfight, i. 122,, perfect; perfightly,
i. 12^, perfectly.
Perfytte, i. 272, perfect.
Perkyn, ii. 20, ditninutive of Peter.
Perlese, i. 12^, peerless.
Perte, i. 50, part, side.
Pertyd, i. 2^, parted, divided.
Pese, ii. 45, peace.
Petye, i. 50, ii. 72„plly-
Peyn, ii. 16, pain.
Peyses, i. 48, pieces.
Peysse, i. 44, peace.
Peyters, ii. 13, Peter'' s.
Philomele, iii. 81, the nightingale.
Piece, a little.
Pil'd, peeled, bald.
Pine, i. i()6, famish, starve.
Pinner, ii. 337, pinder, or im-
pounder of cattle.
Pious chanson, i. \Z'^,a godly song
or ballad.
" Mr. Rowe's Edition of Shake-
speare has ' The first Row of
the Rubrick ;' which has been
supposed by Dr. Warburton to
refer to the red-lettered titles of
old ballads. In the large collec-
tion made by Mr. Pepys, I do
not remember to have seen one
single ballad with its title prin-
ted in red letters." P.
Pipl, i. \OT), people.
Playand, ii. lis,, playing.
Play-feres, i. 59, play-fellows.
Playning, i. 243, cojnplaining.
Plein, iii. 123, complain.
Pleis, ii. 2)2, please.
Plett, ii. 112, plaited.
Pley, i. 59, ii. 2>Z,play.
Pleyn, ii. 16, cojnplaitt.
Plyyt, ii. 27, plight.
Plowmell, ii. 25, a small wooden
ham^ner occasionally fixed to the
plough.
Poll-cat, cant word for a prosti-
tute.
Pollys, ii. 21, polls, heads.
Pompal, i. 2^^, pro7id, pompous.
Popingay, i. 308, a parrot.
Porcupig, iii. 2%^, porcupine.
Portingale, iii. 50, Portugal.
Portingalls, ii. 198, Portugtiese.
Portres, porteress.
Poterner, iii. 7, probably a pouch
or bag.
Pottle, iii. 187, a 7neasure of two
quarts.
Poudered, ii. 23, a term in heraldry
for sprinkled over.
Pow'd, i. 59, pulled.
Powlls, polls, heads.
Pownes, i. 300, pounds.
Praat, ii. 360, prate.
GLOSSARY.
;99
Pray, i. 125,/nj.
Prayse-folk, ii. 27, singing men
and icomcn.
Preas, iii. 26, press.
Prece, i. \bo,crowd, press j preced,
i. 167, ij I, pressed.
Prest, i. 205, ii. 21, ready; prestly,
i. 171 : prestlye, i. 72, readily,
quickly.
Prickes, i. 1 1 1, mark in the centre
of the target.
Pricke-wande, pole set up for a
mark.
Pricked, i. 68, spurred on, hasted.
Priefe, ii. 96, prove.
Priving, ii. 70, proving, testing.
Prove, ii. 46, proof.
Prude, ii. 8, pride.
Prycke, i. 175, the jnark, comtnonly
a hazel tuand.
Prycked, i. 43, spurred.
PrjTTie, i. 156, daybreak, or six
o'clock in the morning.
Prys, ii. 11, prize.
Pu, i. \\l,ptcll.
Puing, ii. T)()T„ pulling.
Puissant, iii. no, strong, powerful.
Purfell, iii. 25, ornatnent, or border
of embroidery.
Purfelled, iii. 25, embroidered.
Purvayed, ii. \^, provided.
Putry, iii. 6, whoredom.
Pyght, i. 43, pitched.
Quadrant, foursquare.
Quaint, ii. 257, nice, fantastical.
Quarry, i. 255, the slaughtered
game in hunting or hawking.
Quat, ii. 116, quitted.
Quay, iii. 75, a young heifer, called
a whie in Yorkshire.
Quean, iii. 21, 203, 252, a sorry,
base womajt, a slut.
Quel, ii. 135, cruel, tnurderous.
Quelch, a blow or bang.
Quere, i. 124, quire, choir.
Quest, i. 165, inquest.
Quha, i. loi, who.
Quhair, ii. 82, where.
Quhair-eir, ii. 84, wherever.
Quhan, i. 144, iii. 75, when.
Quhaneir, iii. 75, whenever.
Quhar, i. 100, where.
Ouhat, i. 143, what.
Quhatten, i. 83, what.
Quhen, i. 143, ii. 82, when.
Quhilk, ii. 116, which.
Ouhy, i. 145, zohy.
Quhyle, ii. d>2>i "^hile.
Quick, iii. 53, alive, living.
Quiere, ii. 288, choir.
Quillets, ii. 283, quibbles.
Quiristers, ii. 166, choristers.
Quitt, ii. 311, requite.
Quo, ii. 69, quoth.
Quyle, ii. 84, 7ohile.
Quyrry, i. 25, quarry of slaugh-
tered game.
Quyt, ii. 85, quite.
Quyte, i. 34, requited.
Qwyknit, ii. 131, quicketied, re-
stored to life.
Rade, i. 147, rode.
Rae, ii. 24, roe.
Raigne, ii. 253, reign.
Raik, to go apace ; raik on raw, ii.
82, extend in a row.
Raise, ii. 69, rose.
Rampire, ii. 52, rampart.
Ranted, ii. 68, made tnerry.
Rashing, i. 208, the old hunting
tertn for the stroke made by a
wild boar with his fangs.
Raught, reached, gained, obtained.
Raw, ii. 82, row.
Rawstye, i. 116, damp (?)
Rayt, ii. 26, raught or reached.
Reachles, i. 113, careless.
Read, ii. 148 ; reade, ii. 144, ad-
vice ; reade me, i. 87, advise
me.
Rea'me, ii. 287, realm.
Reane, i. 34, rain.
Rearing, i. 88, leaning against.
Reas, i. 24, raise.
Reave, i. 89, 322, bereave.
Reckt, i. 143, regarded.
Rcckyn, ii. 20, reckon.
Red, i. loi, read.
Redd, i. 79, advise.
Reddyl, ii. 23, riddle or sieve.
Rede, iii. 208 ; rcdde, ii. 13, read.
Rede, i. 41, 66, iii. 94, advise;
rede I can, ii. 37, advice I
know.
400
GLOSSARY.
Rede, i. ii,%, guessed.
Redouted, i. 120, dreaded.
Redresse, ii. 78, care, labour.
Redyn, ii. 23, moved.
Reek, i. 145, smoke.
Reev, ii. 17 ; reeve, iii. 179, bailiff.
Refe, ii. 20, bailiff.
Refe, bereave.
Reft, ii. 26, bereft.
Register, iii. 210, the officer who
keeps the public register.
Raid, ii. 83, advise.
Reid, i. 59, 83, 146, red; reid roan,
i. 83, red roan.
Reivs, ii. 83, bereavest.
Rekeles, i. 42, regardless, rash.
Remeid, ii. 83, remedy.
Renisht, i. 88, harnessed.
Renn, i. 196 ; renne, i. 160, ii. 89,
run.
Renneth,iii. 108, runneth; renning,
ii. 142, running.
Renyed, i. 122, refused.
Reporte, i. 124, refer.
Rescous, ii. 40, rescues ; rescew, ii.
175, rescue.
Reve, ii. 23, bereave, deprive.
Revers, ii. 114, robbers, pirates,
rovers.
Rew, ii. 82, take pity.
Rew, iii. 98 ; rewe, i. 70, ii. 46,
regret ; reweth, ii. 9, regrets ;
rewyth, i. 42, regrets.
Rewth, i. 174, ruth, pity.
Riall, royal.
Richt. i. loi, right.
Riddle, vulgar idiotnfor ufiriddle,
or corruption ofreade, to advise.
Rin, i. 147 ; rinn, i. 60, run; rins,
i. 59, runs; rinnes, i. 42, ru7ts.
Rise, shoot, bush, shrub.
Rive, i. 244, rend; rives, i. 284 ;
rettds.
Rive, ii. 386, rife, abou7iding.
Roche, i. 128, rock.
Rofe, ii. 41, roof.
Roke, i. 48, steam or smoke.
Ronne, ran; roone, run.
Roo, i. 42, roe.
Roode, i. 76, cross, crucifix.
Rood loft, the place in the church
where the images were set tip.
Room, i. 84, huge.
Roun, ii. 80, run.
Route, i. 158, compatty.
Route, iii. 108,^0 about, travel.
Routhe, i. 122, ruth, pity.
Row, i. 145 ; rowd, i. 60, 146, 7-oll,
rolled.
Rowght, i. 45 ; rowte, ii. 26, 7'otct.
Rowyned, round.
Rowned, rownyd, whispered.
Rudd, iii. 8, red, ruddy; rud-red,
iii. 22.
Rude, ii. 82 ; rood, cross.
Ruell bones, ii. 22.
Rues, pitieth.
Rugged, ii. 2J, pulled with violence.
Runnagate, ii. 294, runaway.
Rushy gair, ii. 86, rushy strip of
latid.
Ruthe, ii. ^6, pity, woe.
Ryal, ii. 30 ; ryall, i. 45, 129, royal.
Ryd, iii. 36, rode; rydand, ii. 22,
riding.
Ryde, i. gi,for ryse {?)
Rydere, i. 178, ranger.
Ryghtwes, i. 427, righteous.
Ryhte, ii. 9, right.
Rynde, i. 46, rent, flayed.
Ryschys, ii. 27, rushes.
Rywe, ii. 30, rue.
Ryyt, ii. 20, right; even, ii. 23.
Sa, i. 144, ii. 26 ; sae, i. 144, so.
Safer, sapphire.
Saft, ii. no, soft; saftly, ii. 107,
softly.
Saif, i. 144, safe.
Saim, iii. 99, satne,
Sair, i. 60, 147, sore.
Saisede, ii. 8, seized.
Sail, i. 60, 84, 143, shall.
Salvage, iii. 117, savage.
Sar, i. 31, sore.
Sarke, iii. 95, shirt; shift, i. 321.
Sat, i. 31, set.
Sauls, ii. 114, souls.
Saut, iii. 99, salt.
Saw, say, speech, discourse.
Say, i. 30, saw.
Saye, iii. 64, essay, attempt.
Say us no harme, say no ill of us.
Say'n, ii. 69, saying.
Scant, i. 90, 321, scarce.
Scath, i. 65, hjirt, injury.
GLOSSARY.
401
Schadow, ii. 25, shadow.
Schal, ii. 20 ; schall, i. 42, shall.
Schapen, ii. 24, sluipcd.
Schapped, i. 48, s^oappcd {?), i.e.
SfllOti'.
Scharpe, i. 46, 48, sharp.
Schatred, ii. 25, shattered.
Schaw, ii. 82, show.
Sche, i. 42, ii. 24, she.
Schene, sheen, also bn'i^htitess.
Schepeskynnes, ii. 21, sheepskins.
Schip, i. 100, ship; schiples, i'/;/)^-
less.
Scho, i. 59, ii. 10, she.
Schone, i. 41, shone.
Schoone, i. loi, shoes.
Schoote, i. 45, shot, let go.
Schowte, i. 47 ; schowtte, shout.
Schrill, shrill.
Schuke, shook.
Schuld, ii. 20 ; schulde, i. 46,
should.
Schulder, ii. 27, shoulder.
Sckill, iii. 327, skill.
Sckirmish, ii. 236, skirmish.
Sckore, ii. 236, score.
Sclat, ii. 16, slate.
Scomfet, ii. 2T„'discomJit.
Scorke, i. 259, struck.
Scot, u.g,tar,re7/enue_; also shot,
reckoning, ii. 20.
See, ii. 8, sea.
Sed, iii. 47, said.
Seely, ii. 174 ; seelie, iii. 6S, poor,
simple.
Seigneur, ii. 135, Lord.
Seik, i. 60, seek.
Seires, iii. 328, for feires, i.e.
mates.
Sek-ful, ii. 22, sackful.
Sel, iii. 96 ; sell, iii. 123, self.
Selcouthe, ii. 391, strange.
Selven, ii. 32, self.
Selver, ii. 8, silver.
Sely, ii. 53, simple.
Semblyd, i. 25, assembled.
Sen, i. 34, ii. 83, iii. 95, since.
Seneschal], stejvard.
Scnvy, mustard seed. Fr. senevd.
Serrett, i. 79, closed fist {?)
Sertaync, i. 48, certain j sertenly,
i. 49, 50, certainly.
Scse, ii. 49, seize.
3 I'
Setywall, the herb valerian.
Sev, iii. 75, a kind of woollen
'stuff.
Sey yow, ii. 15, say to you ; I
sey yow soth, ii. 16, / tell you
truth.
Sey'd, ii. 114, tried.
Sey'd, saw.
Seyde, ii. 12, said.
Sha' na bide, ii. 1 16, shall not en-
dure.
Shaint, ii. 360, saint.
Shave ; be shave, ii. T"], be shaven.
Shaw, ii. 114, show; shaw'd, ii.
1 10, sho7ued.
Shaws, i. 106, little woods.
Shear, i. 24, entirely.
Sheede, iii. 12, shed.
Sheel, ii. 98 ; sheele, i. 88, 294,
she'll, she will.
Sheene, i. 87, 106 ; iii. 236, bright,
brightness, beauty. Germ, sclwn.
Shees, ii. 70, she is.
Sheeve, ii. 256, shive, a great slice
of bread.
Sheip, ii. 82, sheep; sheips heid,
ii. 132, sheep's head.
Sheits, i. i^^^, sheets.
Sheld, ii. 70, she zuould.
Shent, i. 72, 171, disgraced;
abashed, ii. 49 ; confounded^
ii. 84.
Shepenes, iii. 208, cowhouses,
sheep pens. A.-S. scypen.
Shield bone, tlie blade bone, a
common phrase in the north.
Shill, ii. Ill, shrill.
Shimmer'd, iii. 237, glittered ;
shimmering, ii. \ ^2, shining by
glances, glittering.
Sho, ii. 49, she.
Shoen, ii. 100, shoes.
Shold, sholde, should.
Shoonc, i. 243, 320 ; iii. 47, shoes.
Shope, iii. 54, shaped.
Shorte, ii. 43, shorten.
Shote, ii. 40, shoot.
.Shott, ii. 149, reckoning.
.Shoul, ii. 360, soul.
.Shradds, i. 106, twigs.
Shreeven, iii. 10, shriven, con-
fessed.
Sh reward, ii. 9, « male shrew.
402
GLOSSARY.
Shrive, ii. 60, co7ifess ; hear cotifes-
ston, ii. 166.
Shroggs, i. Ill, shrubs, thorns,
briars.
Shuld, iii. 147 ; shulde, i. 32,
should.
ShuUen, shall.
Shunted, ii. 137, shunned.
Shuntyng, ii. i(), recreation, diver-
sion, sport.
Shyars, i. 24, shires.
Shynand, ii. 113, shining.
Sib, kin, akin.
Sic, i. 84 ; sich, i. 327, such.
Sich, ii. 84, sigh; sichit, ii. 81,
sicht, ii. 86, sighed.
Sicht, ii. 1 14, sight.
Sick-like, iii. 123, sttch like.
Side, i. 375, lofig.
Sied, i. 147, saiv.
Sigh clout, i. 197, a cloth to strain
fnilk through.
Sighan, iii. 134, sighifig.
Sik, i. 144 ; sike, i. 320, such.
Siker, i. 323, secure, surely, cer-
tainly.
Silk, iii. 100, such.
Siller, ii. 230 ; iii. 97, silver.
Silly, i. 192 ; ii. 68, simple.
Silven, iii. 100, silver.
Sindle, ii. \\^, seldom.
Sist, iii. 55, sighed.
Sith, i. 68, 133, since.
Sitten, iii. 99, sat.
Sitteth, ii. 7, sit ye.
Skaith, ii. 115, scath, harm, mis-
chief.
Skinker, one that serves drink.
Skinkled, iii. 237, glittered.
Skore, i. 28, score.
Slade, i. 108, a breadth of green-
sward between ploughlands or
woods.
Slaited, iii. 98, wiped.
Slatred, ii. 25, broke into splinters.
Slaw, i. 308, slew.
Slaw, ii. 107, slow.
Sle, i. 15, slay J sleest, slayest, i.
123.
Slee, ii. 69, sly.
Slean, i. 31, 33, 34, j-/^/;z.
Sleath, iii. 108, slayeth.
Slein, ii. 70, slain.
Sleip, i. 60 ; sleipe, ii. 211, sleep.
Sleive, iii. cj^, sleeve.
Slo, i. 120 ; sloe, i. 69, slay.
Slode, i. 66, 79, slit, split.
Slone, i. 49, 67, slain.
Sloughe, i. 28, slew.
Sma', i. 145, small; little, iii. 95.
Smire, iii. 327 (? for swire =: neck).
Smithers, i. ii\.^,s}nothers.
Snae, iii. 97 ; snaw, ii. 69, snow.
Soar, i. 31, sore.
Sodenly, ii. 15, suddenly.
Solacious, i. 130 ; affording solace.
Soldan, i. 73, 74, 80 ; sowdan, i.
96, sultatt.
Soil, i. 34, soul.
Son, ii. 23, soon; sone, ii. 44,
sooti.
Sond, ii. 26, sending, present.
Sone, ii. 41, soon.
Soothe, ii. 55, truth, true.
Sort, i. 122, 126, set, co7npany.
Soth, i. 43, 49, 50, 51 ; ii. 16 ; iii.
30, truth, true.
Sothe, i. 27, so7tth.
Sould, ii. 69, shotild.
Souldan, iii. no, j-^/Z/aw.
Souling, ii. 257, victualling.
Sowle is still used in the north
for anything eaten with bread.
P.
Souse, iii. 181, the head, feet and
ears of swine boiled and pickled
for eating.
Souter, i. ^16, psaltty.
Sowne, ii. S-'t^ottnd.
Sowre, sour.
Sowre, sore.
Sowter, i. 416, a shoetnaker.
Soy, i. 320, silk.
Spack, ii. 230 ; iii. 96, spake.
Spec, ii. 13, spake.
Speere, ii. 144 ; speered, ii. 144,
sparred, fastened, shut.
So in an old " Treatyse
agaynst Pestilence, &c. 4to
Emprynted by Wynkyn de
Worde :" we are exhorted to
" Spere [i.e. shut or bar] the
wyndowes ayenst the south."
fol. 5. P.
Speid, iii. 94, speed.
Speik, iii. 96, speak.
GLOSSARY.
403
Speir, ii. 69 ; iii. 95, ask, inquire.
So Chaucer, in his Rhyme of
Sir Thopas —
" He foughte north and
south,
And oft he spired with his
mouth."
i.e. " inquired." Not spied, as
in the new edit, of Cant. Tales,
vol. ii. p. 234. P.
Speir, iii. 98, spear.
Spek, ii. 12, spoke; speken, iii.
207, speak.
Spence, ii. 52 ; spens, ii. 21, ex-
pense.
Spendyd, f^rasped.
Spill, i. 196, iii. 51 ; spille, i. 75,
spoil., kill.
Spillan, iii. 134., spilling.
Spindles and whorles, ii. 71, the
instruments used for spinning
in Seotlajid instead of spimmig-
•wheels.
" The Rock, Spindles, and
Whorles are very much used
in Scotland, and the northern
parts of Northumberland at
this time. The thread for
shoemakers, and even some
linen webs, and all the twine
of which the Tweed salmon-
nets are made, are spun upon
spindles. They are said to make
a more even and smooth thread
than spinning-wheels." {Mr.
Lambe.) P.
Spittle, ii. 282, hospital.
Splene ; on the splene, ii. 46, in
haste.
Spole, ii. 198, shoulder.
Sporeles, ii. 9, spurless, without
spurs.
Sprente, i. i(), spurted out ^ sprung
out.
Sprite, iii. 132, spirit.
Spurging, iii. Kyj , drivelling froth.
Spurn, i.134, a kick.
Spylt, i. 123, spoiled, destroyed.
Squelsh, iii. 295, 9 bloiu or bang.
Squyer, ii. 44 ; squ^-cre, ii. 44,
squire.
Stalworth, ii. \(), stout.
Stalwurthlye, i. 41, stoutly.
Stane, i. 145, stone.
Starke, i. 72, stout, strotig.
Startopes, ii. 256, buskins or halj
boots.
Stean, i. 103, iii. 99, stone.
Stede, ii. 11, place.
Steid, i. 83, iii. 98, steed.
Steill, ii. 131, steel.
Steir, ii. 83, stir.
Stel, ii. 8, steel.
Stele, ii. 46, steal.
Sterne, i. 2%, fierce ones.
Sterris, stars.
Sterte, i. 69, 73, start; sterted, iii.
15, started.
Sterve, ii. 16, die, perish.
Steven, i. 115, iii. 26, Toice, sound.
Steven, i. in, ti/ne.
Stint, i. 68, 133, 2Ji,stop, stopped.
Stond, ii. 26, stand.
Stonderes, slanders by.
Stonds, i. 44, stands.
Stound, i. 165, hour.
Stounde, i. 48, time ; for awhile.,
ii. II.
Stoup, ii. 117, stoop.
Stoup of weir, ii. 115, a pillar of
luar.
Stour, i. 31, 96; stower, i. 66,
iii. 26 ; stowre, i. 49, 74, 168,
iii. 14, strong, fierce, stir, fight.
This word is applied in the
North to signify dust agitated
and put in motion, as by the
sweeping of a room, «S:c. P.
Stown, ii. 69, stolen.
Stra, ii. 24 ; strae, ii. 69, iii. 98,
straw.
Strake, ii. 117, struck.
Strekenc, i. 29, stricken, struck.
St ret, street.
Strick, i. 322, strict.
Strike, stricken.
Stroke, i. 28 ; stroken, i. 228,
struck.
Strout, iii. 119, strut.
Stude, i. 143, iii. 95, stood.
Styntyde, i. y:), stinted, stayed,
stopped.
.Styrande, i. 40, stining.
.Styrt, ii. 26, started.
Suar, i. 28, 30, sure.
404
GLOSSARY.
Suld, ii. 21, should.
Sum, i. 83, 146, ii. i^,some.
Summere, iii. 108, a sinnptcr horse.
Sumpters, i. 302, horses that ca7'ry
clothes^ furniture, dr'c.
Sune, soon.
Surmount, iii. 172, surpass.
Suore bi ys chyn, ii. 9, szcorn by
his chin.
Supprised, i. 124, overpowered.
Suraunce, ii. 49, assura7ice.
Suthe, ii. 386, soon, quickly.
Swa, ii. 24, so.
Swage, ii. 342, assuage ; swaged,
ii. 180, assuaged.
Swapte, i. 29 ; swapped, i. 48,
struck violeiitly, exchanged
blows.
Sware, ii. 12, ii. 361, swearing,
oath.
Swarned, ii. 206, climbed.
Swarved, ii. i()7 , climbed, swar7ned.
To swarm, in the midland
counties, is to draw oneself up a
tree or any other thing, clinging
to it with the legs and arms. P.
Swat, i. 29, did sweat.
Swear, sware.
Swearde, ii. 128, sword.
Sweaven, i, 106, ii. 63 ; sweven,
ii. 56, a dream.
Sweere, iii. 21, neck.
Sweit, iii. 74 ; swete, ii. 19, sweet;
sweitly, ii. 212, sweetly.
Swepyls, ii. 25, "a swepyl is that
staff of the flail with which the
corn is beaten out. Vulg. a
supple (called in the midland
counties a swindgell, where the
other part is termed the hand-
staff)." P.
Swerdes, ii. 8, swords.
Swiche, i. 430, such.
Swith, i. 96, ii. 119, quickly, in-
staftily, at once.
Swound, i. 240, 296, ii. 179, swoon
Swyke, sigh.
Swynkers, ii. 19, labourers.
Swyppyng, ii. 25, striking fast.
Swyving, ii. 8, wenching, lechery.
Sych, ii. 19, such.
Syd, side; on sydis shear, i. 25,
on all sides.
Syn, ii. 16, since.
Syne, i. 43, ii. 114, iii. 147, then,
afterwards.
Syns, since.
Syschemell, ii. 74, Ishmael.
Syth, ii. 38, since.
Syyt, ii. 27, sight.
Taiken, ii. 118, taken.
Tain, iii. 94 ; taine, i. 59, taken.
Tane, i. 289, ii. 193, taken.
Tane, iii. 238, the one.
Tarbox, ii. 256, box contaitiifig tar
for anointi7ig sores 171 sheep, ^'c.
Targe, ii. 53, target, shield.
Tauld, ii. 109, told,
Tayne, i. 50, take7i.
Te, ii. 7, to; te-knowe, ii. ir, to
k7iow; te-make, to 7/iake.
Te-he, ii. 26, interjection oflatigh-
i7lg.
Tear, i. 34, teari7ig or pulli7ig.
Teene, i. 162, vexation; i. 284,
291, i 71 jury; iii. 194, t7'0tible ;
teenefu, i. 147, wratJiful.
Teene, i. ']'], vex.
Teir, i. loi, tear.
Tene, i. 120, wrath.
Tenebrus, i. 128, dark.
Tent, ii. 83, heed.
Termagaunt, i. 85, 96, the god of
the Sarace7is.
The old French Romancers,
who had corrupted Te7-7naga7it
into Tcrvaga7it, couple it with
the name of Mahomet as con-
stantly as ours ; thus in the old
Roma7t de Blanchardin,
" Cy guerpison tuit Apolin,
Et Mahomet at Tervaga7it."
Hence La Fontaine, with great
humour, in his Tale, intituled La
Fia7icee du Roy de Garbc, says,
" Et reniant Mahom, Jupin, et
Te7-vaga7it,
Avec maint autre Dieu non
moins extravagant."
— Me//i. de PAcad. des biscript.
to77i. 20, \to.p. 352.
As Ter7naga7it is evidently of
Anglo-Saxon derivation and can
GLOSSARY.
405
only be explained from the ele-
ments of that language, its being
corrupted by the old French Ro-
mancers proves that they bor-
rowed some things from ours. P.
Terrene, iii. 299, earthly.
Terry, ii. 19, Thierry, or a diminu-
tive of Terence.
Tester, iii. 206, iesion, or sixpence.
Tha, ii. 26, them.
Thah, ii. 7, though.
Thair, ii. 82, iii. 99, there.
Tham, ii. 21 ; thame, i. 84, 102,
146, them.
Than, i. 145, 206, then.
Thanns, ii. 25, thence.
Thay, i. 321, t/iey.
Thaym, ii. 23, them.
Thayr, ii. 21, their.
The, they ; the wear, i. 29, they
"u.'ere.
The, i. 189, ii. 13, thee.
The God, ii. 30, contraction for the
he (i.e. high) God. P.
Thear, i. 33, there ; i. 29, their.
Theder, ii. 19 ; thedyr, ii. 28,
thither.
Thee, ii. 97, thrive; so mote I
thee, ii. 97, so may I thrive.
So in Chaucer, Ca}it. Tales,
vol. i. p. 308, " God let him never
the." P.
Then, than.
Ther, ii. 21 ; there i. 289, their.
Ther, ii. 23, where.
Thes, ii. 19, these.
Thcther, i. 41, thither.
They, i. 78, the.
Theyther-ward, thitherwa7-d, to-
wanls that place.
Thie, thy.
Thii, ii. 386, they.
Thilkc, ii. 14, this.
Thir, ii. 69, this, these; thir tow-
monds, ii. 82, these twelve
months.
Tho, i. 207, then ; those, ii. 39.
Thocht, iii. 94, thought.
Thole, ii. 1 19, suffer.
Thore, ii. 13, there.
Thorow, ii. 30 ; ihorrow, i. 291,
through; thorowout, ii. 15,
throughout.
Thouse, i. 19S, thoic a7-t ; thou
shall, iii. 131.
Thoust, i. 2S9, thou shall or
shouldst.
Thowe, thou.
Thrall, i. 297, ii. 79, captive;
captivity, i. 75, 135 ; ii. 256.
Thrang, ii. 1 1 5, throng ; close, ii.
69.
Thraste, iii. 216, thrust.
Thrawis, throes.
Thrawn, ii. 115, ihrotun.
Threape, i. 198, to argue, to affirm
or assert in a positive overbear-
ing viatiner.
Threven, ii. 133, thrived.
Threw, ii. 214, drew.
Threw, iii. 238, thrived.
Thrie, three.
Thrif, thrive.
Thrild upon a pinn, iii. 47, twirled
or twisted the door pin.
Thritt^, i. 34, thirty ; thritti thou-
sent, ii. 7, thi^-ty thousand.
Thronge, i. 163, hastened.
Thropes, iii. 208, ^ullages.
Through - girt, ii. 78, pierced
through.
Throw, iii. 134, tJirough.
Thruch, throuch, through.
Thrughe, through.
Thrustand, ii. 23, thrustitig.
Thr)-es, ii. 23, thrice.
Thrysse, i. 47, thrice.
Thud, ii. 119, dull sound.
Tickle, ii. 299, uncertain.
Tift, iii. 2y],puffofwind.
Till, i. 33, 65, 143, ii. 82, unto.
Till, i. 94, entice.
Timkin, diminuti^'c of Timothy.
Tine, i. 64, lose ; tint, i. 71 ; ii.
363, lost.
Tirled at the pin, iii. 131, twirled
or twisted the door pin.
Tividalc, i. 25, Teviotdale.
To, too, two.
Tokcnyng, ii. 22, token.
Tomkyn, ii. 19, diminutive of
Thomas.
To-flatrcd, ii. 25, slit.
To-rente, iii. 356, ;•(///.
To-schatred, ii. 25, shattered.
To-slatered, ii. 25, splintered.
4o6
GLOSSARY.
Tone, i. 42, 87, iii. 103, the one.
Too-fall, ii. 365, twilight.
" Toofall of the night " seems
to be an image drawn from a
suspended canopy, so let fall as
to cover what is below. {Mr.
Lanibe.) P.
Tooken, i. 274, took.
Tor, a tower; also a high pointed
rock or hill.
Torn, i. 187, tu?-n.
Tothar, i. 31, the other.
Tother, i. 87, the other.
Toun, i. 143 ; town, i. 321, dwell-
ing-house.
Tow, i. 145, to let down with a
rope; towd, i. 146, let down.
Tow, i. 106 ; to we, i. 31, 87, two.
Towmonds, ii. 82, twelve months.
Towyn, i. 41, towti.
Traitorye, i. 283, 289, ii. 309 ;
traytery, ii. 224, treason.
Tre, i. 28, ii. 13, wood; i. 30, staff.
Tree, i. 291, ill.
Trewest, ii. 11, truest.
Treytory, i. 124, treachery.
Trichard, ii. 7, treacherous.
Tricthen (should be trichen), ii. 7,
deceive.
Triest furth, iii. 94, draw forth to
an assignation.
Trifulcate, three forked, three
pointed.
Trippand, ii. 27, tripping.
Trim, i. 191, exact.
Troate, ii. 360, throat.
Trogh, ii. 24, trough.
Trone. yn trone, i. 43, enthroned.
Troth, iii. 1 3 1 , truth, faith,fidelity;
trothles, i. 201, faithless.
Trough, trouth, troth.
Trouth plyyt, ii. 27, iruth plight.
Trow, ii. 95, true.
Trow, iii. 96 ; trowe, i, 270, be-
lieve, trust, also verily.
Trumped, boasted, told bragging
lies; a trump, a lie.
Tuik, i. 322, took.
Tuke gude keip, ii, 84, took good
watch.
TuU, i. 320 ; for till, to.
Tup, ii. 257, ram.
Turn, such turn, siich an occasion.
Turnes a crab, ii.' 258, 7-oasts a
crab apple.
Tush, ii. 57, tusk. '™"'ll!i
Twa, i. 320 ; ii. 26, two.
Twatling, iii. 187, trifling.
Twaw, i. 27, two.
Twayne, ii. 37, two.
Twin'd, i. 59, parted in tzvo.
Twirtle twist, ii. 112, twirled
twist.
Twyes, ii. 23, twice.
Tyb, ii. 20, tJie diminutive of
Isabel.
Tyll. com the tyll, i. 42, come unto
thee.
Tyrry, ii. 26. See Terry.
Uch, ii. 14, each.
Ugsome, shocking, horrible.
'Um, iii. 333, them.
Unbethought, iii. Si,ior bethought.
Undermeles, iii. 208, afternootis.
Undight, i. 309, undecked.
Unfeeled, opetied, a term in fal-
conry.
Unhap, ii. yj, mishap.
Unkempt, ii. jy, uncombed.
Unmacklye, i. 73, 80, mis-shapen.
Unmufit, undisturbed.
Unright, ii. 191, wrong.
Unsett Steven, i. iii, tinappointed
time, unexpectedly.
Unsonsie, ii. 116, unhccky, unfor-
tunate.
Untill, iii. 49 ; untyll, i. 162, unto.
Upo, ii. 70, upon.
Ure, iii. 262, tise.
Uthers, ii. 86, others.
Vaints, ii. 2%(), faints.
Vair, ii. 2?,6, fair.
Valeies, ii. 41, valleys.
Vart, ii. 2Z6, fart.
Vazen, ii. 286, {or faith.
Vellow, ii. 286 ; vellowe, ii, 287,
fellow.
Venge, ii, 117, revenge.
Venu, iii, 356, approach, coming.
Verament, i. 25, 28, t}-uly.
Vices, i. 129, devices.
Vilane, rascally.
Vitayle, ii, 42, victual.
Vive, ii. 386,7^2/^.
GLOSSARY.
407
Vools, ii. 2S8, fools; voolish, ii.
zZZJoolish.
Vor, ii. 2Z6, for.
Vorty, ii. ztj, forty.
Vourteen, ii. 2^'j,foiirft\'f!.
Voyded, i. 166, quitted, hft the
place.
Vrier, ii. 2^6, friar.
Wa, i. 142, 143, ii. 109, iii. 93, 95,
wall.
Wache, i. 43, a spy.
Wad, i. 60, 145, 321, would.
Wadded, iii. 7, light-blue or wood-
coloured.
Wadna, ii. 13, would not.
Wae, i. S3, 320, woe ; waefo', iii.
100 ; waefu', ii. no, woeful.
Wae worth, i. 145, 322, woe betide.
Wald, i. 145 ; walde, iii. 94,
would.
Walker, iii. 8, a fuller of cloth.
Walowit, ii. iig, faded, withered.
Walter ing, i. 75, ii. 119, xuelter-
ing; waltred, tumbled or rolled
about.
Waly, iii. 147, an interjection of
lamentation.
Wame, iii. 238, wotnb, belly.
Wan, i. 72, 244 ; ii, 26, won.
Wan near, ii. 120, drew near.
Wane, i. 29, the same as ane, one,
so wone is one.
In fol. 355 of Bannatyne's
MS. is a short fragment, in
which " wane " is used for
" ane " or " one," \'iz. : —
"Amongst the monsters that
we find,
There's wane belovved of wo-
man-kind.
Renowned for antiquity,
Yrom Adame drivs his pedi-
gree." P.
The word wane in the text,
however, is probably a mis-
reading for mane.
Wanrufc, ii. 83, uneasy.
War, i. 25, aware.
War ant wys, ii. I l,wary and wise.
Ward, ii. 120, watch, sentinel,
warder.
Warde, iii. 97, ad^'ise, fore-cam.
Ware, i. 43, 107, 158, aware.
Ware, i. 306, wore.
Ware, iii. 238, were.
Warke, work.
Warld, ii. 85, world; warldis, i.
84, worlds.
Waryd, ii. 20, acctirsed.
War)'son, i. 46, reward.
Wassel, iii. 27, drinking, good
cheer.
Wat, i. 322, ii. 68, wet.
W^at, i. 27, know.
Wate, iii. 97, blamed. (Preterite
of wyie, to blame.)
Wauld, iii. 95, would.
Wayde, waved.
Wayed, iii. 195, weighed.
Weal, i. 33, wail.
Weale, well.
Wear, i. 29, wet'e.
Wear-in, iii. 74, drive in gently.
Wearifu', ii. 70, wearisome, trouble-
some, tiresome, disturbing.
Weddeen, iii. 236, weddittg.
Wedder, ii. 83, weather.
Wede, ii. 21, clothing.
Wedous, i. 33, widows.
Wee, ii. 69, little.
Weede, iii. 59, clothing, dress;
weeds, i. 88, 246, garments.
Weell, iii. 51, we'll, we will.
Weel, ii. 132 ; weele, i. 150, well.
Weel-faur'd, ii. 139, well-fa-
voured.
Weene, i. 193, think ; ween'd, i.
143 ; weened, ii. 80 ; wcende,
ii. 96, thought.
Weete, i. loi, ii. 216, zuet.
Weet, ii. 95, know.
Weids, ii. 364, cloathing.
Weil, i. 145, well.
Weip, i. 60 ; weipe, ii. 211, weep.
Weir, ii. 115, war.
Weird, iii. 224, witeJi-like.
Weit, ii. 231, wet.
Wei ionge, ii. 13, very long.
Wel-awaye, iii. 128, an interjec-
tion of grief .
Weldynge, ruling.
Wele, ii. 24, well.
Welkin, iii. 201, the sky.
Wem, iii. 303, spot.
4o8
GLOSSARY.
Wem, iii. 357, huft.
Weme, i. 284, 291, hollow.
Wend, i. 156, ii. IZ, go.
Wend, ii. 85 ; wende, i. 170,
thought ; w&nde do, ii. 2), thought
to do.
Wenden, ii. 12, go.
Went, i. 164, thoHght.
Wer, iii. 134, were.
Wereth, defendeth.
Werke, i. 163, 306, work.
Werre, ii. 11, war.
Werryed, ii. 65, worried.
Wes, ii. 8, was.
Westlin, ii. 120, western.
Westlings, whistling.
Wete, i. 31, wet.
Wether, iii. 328, whether.
Wex, iii. 238, wax, grow.
Wha, ii. 71, who.
Whair, ii. 69, where j whair-eir,
ii. 212, wherever.
Wham, ii. 11, wlwni.
Whan, i. 318, when.
Whang, ii. 70, a latge slice.
Wheder, ii. 37, whither.
Whelyng, ii. 49, wheeling.
Whig, i. 299, ii. 256, sour whey,
buttermilk.
While, U7itil.
Whilk, ii. 71, which.
Whirry, iii. 202, laugh.
Whittles, knives.
Whoard, i. 214, hoard.
Whorles (see spindles).
Whyll, i. 48, while.
Whyllys, i. 30, whilst.
Wi', ii. 68, with.
Wight, i. 63, 65, 72, 191, mail,
human being.
Wight, i. 107, 288, strong, lusty.
Wightlye, i. 64, 78, swiftly, vigor-
ously.
Wighty, i. 106, 147 ; wightye, i.
161, strong, active.
Wild-worme, iii. 30, 36, serpent.
Wildings, ii. 257, wild or crab
apples.
Wilfull, i. no, ignorajit.
Windar, iii. 302, a kind of hawk.
Windling, witiding.
Winna, iii. 96 ; winnae, i. 59, 144,
will not.
Winyard, iii. 297, long knife or
short cutlass.
Winsome, i. 323, ii. 70, 363, agree-
able, engaging.
Wirk, ii. 83, do.
Wis, i. 269, know; wist, i. 72, iii.
148, knew.
Witchd, iii. 24, bewitched.
Withouten, i. 126; withowtten,i.4i;
withowghten, i. 40, 43, without.
Wive, ii. 255, tnarry.
Wo, ii. 8r, 86, woe.
Wobster, ii. 131, webster, weaver.
Wod, ii. 82 ; wode, i. 122, 160,
163, mad, wild.
Wod, iii. 94 ; wode, i. 156, ii. 37,
wood.
Wodewarde, ii. 43, towards the
wood.
Woe-man, a sorrowful man.
Woe worth, ii. 215, woe be to thee.
Wolden, i. 274, would.
Woll, ii. 24, wool.
Wolle, ii. 38, will.
Won, ii. 49, wont, usage.
Won'd, i. 306, dwelt.
Wonde, wounde, wifided.
Wonders, wo7idrous.
Wondersly, i. 125, wondrdusly.
Wone, i. 31, one.
Wonne, dwell.
Woo, i. 28, woe.
Wood, i. 145, ii. 145 ; woode, iii.
57, mad, furious.
Wood-wroth, iii. 238, furiously
ejiraged.
Woodweele, i. 106, the golden
ouzle, a bird of the thrtish kind.
Worm, iii. 30, 36, serpent.
Worship, i. 121, honour.
WorshipfuUy ixoxidtd., of worship-
ful friends.
Wot, i. 69; wott, ii. 139, know ;
wotes, i. 219, knows.
Wouche, i. 28, mischief, wrong.
Wowe, i. 300, woo.
Wow, iii. 75, who.
Wow, ii. 22, vow.
Wrack, i. 296; wracke, iii. 41,
wreck, ruin, destricction ;
wracked, iii. 117, wrecked.
Wrang, i. 147, wrutig.
Wrange, i. 41, wrong.
GLOSSARY.
409
Wreake, ii. 135, pursue revenge-
fully.
Wrench, ii. 8r, 86, ivrctchedncss.
Wringe, i. 122, to contetui luith
violence.
Writhe, i. 2S6, ivrithed, iunsted.
Wroken, i. 106, 147, revenged.
Wrong, i. 166, -wrung.
Wrotyn, ii. 22, li.'rought.
Wrouyt, ii. 30, ivrought.
Wry, ii. 49, turn aside.
Wul, i. S3, 143 ; \vull, iii. 235,
icill.
Wych, i. 44, luhieh.
Wyld, i. 24, 7L<ild deer.
Wynn ther haye, i. 40, gather in
their hay.
Wynne, i. 43, ii. 20, joy, pleasure.
Wynne, iii. 279, heard.
Wynnen, ii. 12, ioin,gain.
Wyrch wyselyer, ii. 24, ivork
more 'wisely.
Wysse, ii. 12, 14, teach, govern,
Wyst, ii. 26 ; wyste, i. 25, knew.
Wyt, know ; wyt wold I, ii. 20,
know would I.
Wyte, iii. 97, blaine.
Y, ii. 12, /_,• y singe, ii. Ii, /
Y-beare, ii. i"] , bear ; y-boren, ii.
8, borne.
Y-bent, bent.
Y-built, iii. 272, built.
Y-cald,iii. 374, called.
Y-chesylcd, i. 129, chiselled.
Y-cleped, i. 326, named, called.
Y-con'd, i. 306, taught, instructed.
Y-core, ii. 12, chosen.
Y-fere, ii. 76, together.
Y-founde, ii. i^, found.
Y-mad, ii. 13, 7nade.
Y-picking, i. 107, picking, culling,
Y-slaw, i. 175, slain.
Y-told, iii. 374, told.
Y-were, i. 87, were.
Y-wis, i. 132 ; ii. 12, verily.
Y-\vonne, ii. \'}y,won.
Y-wrought, i.306; \\\.2T^,wrought.
Y-yote, ii. 14, cast.
Yae, iii. 237, each.
"N'alping, ii. \jo, yelping.
Yaned, iii. i^-j , yawned.
Yate, i. 92 ; iii. 62, gate; yates, i.
144.
Yave, i. 272, gave.
Ych, i. 31, 48 ; ycha, ii. 23, each,
every.
Ych, ii. 26, sa7ne.
Ycholde, ii. \2, 1 would.
"S'chone, i. 49, each one.
Ychulle, iii. jf>'}),I shall.
Ydle, idle.
Yeaning, ii. 257, bringing forth
young.
Yearded, ii. 384, buried, earthed.
Yeats, iii. 93, gates.
Yebent, i. 28, bent.
Yede, ii. 21, 44, went.
Yee, eye.
Yef, ii. 12, if.
Yeid, ii. 81, went.
Yeir, i. 101, year.
Yeme, ii. 12, take care of , govern.
Yender, yonder.
Yenoughe, i. 28, 34, enough.
Yent, ii. 11, through.
Yerarchy, i. 126, hieraj-chy.
Yerle, i. 26, 28, 29, 48, earl; yerlle,
i. 40, 44, 49-
Yerly, i. 24, early.
\'erly, i. 440, yearly.
Ye's, ii. 132 ; ye'se, iii. 134, ye
shall.
Yestreen, ii. 1 1 1, last cvetiing.
Yet, ii. 20, still.
Yf, ii. 23, thougJi.
Ygnoraunce, i. 441, ignorance.
Ying,iii.374 ; yinge,iii. yi\,young.
Yit,jv/.
Ylk, ii. 26, same.
YU, ii. 36, ///.
Yl)the, listen.
Yn, ii. 9, house.
"V'ngghshe, i. 28, 47, 50, English.
Ynglonde, i. 27, 32, 34, 43, Eng-
land.
Ynough, i. 155, enough.
Yode, iii. 67, went.
Yond, i. 285 ; ii. 191 ; yonds, i.
2C)\, yonder.
Yong, i. 271 ; yonge, ii. ^^tZ, young.
Youd, iii. 48, went.
Youle, i. 274, 2()o, you will.
Your lane, iii. 94, alone, by your-
self
4IO
GLOSSARY.
Youst, i. 290, you will.
Yow, ii. \6,you.
Ys, i. 189 ; ii. 14, is; ii. 12, his.
Yt, //.
Yth, i. 25, iji the.
Yule, ii. 229, Christmas.
[In several of the poems Percy
used the letter z to represent the
Anglo-Saxon character j, but as
this is incorrect, and, moreover,
gives rise to a very frequent mis-
pronunciation, the z has been
replaced by y in this edition,
and several words have there-
fore been left out that occurred
in the original glossary.]
Zacring bell, ii. 288, sacring bell,
a little bell rung to give notice
of the elevation of the host. P.
Zaints, ii. 289, saints.
Zaw, ii. 290, saw.
Zay, ii. 287, say.
Zee, ii. 286, seey zeene, ii. 287.
see/i.
Zelf, ii. 287, self.
Zet, ii. 289, set.
Zhall, ii. 288, shall.
Zhowe, ii. 288, show.
Zinging, ii. 289, singing.
Zmell, ii. 286, smell.
Zo, ii. 289, so.
Zold, ii. 287, sold.
Zometimes, ii. 286, sometimes.
Zon, ii. 290, S071.
Zorrow, ii. 289, sorrow.
Zorts, ii. 286, sorts.
Zubtil, ii. 290, subtil.
Zuch, ii. 288, such.
Zure, ii. 288, stire.
Zweet, ii. 289, sweet.
INDEX
TO THE THREE VOLUMES.
The Titles of the various Poems included in the Reliques are distinguished
from the other entries by being printed in italics.
A, Robyjijolly Robytt, I. 1S5-187.
Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Clotidesley, I.
I53-I79"
Admiral Hosier's Ghost, II. 367-371.
Aged Lover renouneeth Love, by Lord Vaux, I. 179-1S2.
Agincourt, For the Victory of, II. 29-31.
Alcanzor and Zayda, translated by Percy, I. 338-342.
Aldingar (Sir), II. 54-67.
Version from the folio MS. II. 61-67.
Alexandrine or Anapestic verse, II. 386.
Alfred the Great as a Harper, I. 399.
Alliterative metre without rhyme, II. 377-394.
Althea (To) from Prison, II. 321-323.
Ambree (Mary), II. 231-237.
Version from the folio MS. II. 235-237.
" Amys and Amelion," III. 373.
Anderson (John), the town crier of Kelso, II.
Argentile and Cur an, II. 252-262.
Arthour and Merlin, Romance of, III. 369.
Arthur (King), I'ocms on. III. 3-43.
King Arthur and the King of Cornwall, III. 367.
Legend of King Arthur, III. 3-43.
King Arthur's Death, a Fragment, III. 27-35.
Version from the folio MS. III. 35-39.
Le Morte Arihure, 111. 366.
132.
412 INDEX TO THE
As ye came from the Holy Latid, II. 101-103.
Copy from the folio MS. 104-105.
Auld {The) Good-tna?i, III. 122-124.
Baffled Knight, 0?' Lady's Policy, II. 336-342.
Bailiff's Daughter of Islington, III. 135-137.
Balet by the Earl of Rivers, II. 48-49.
Ballad of Constant Susanna, I. 209.
Ballad of Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, and a Husbandman, II.
125-130.
Ballads and Ballad-Writers, I. xxiv.-xliv.
Imitators and Forgers of, I. xliv.-xlviii.
Authenticity of certain, I. xlviii.-lviii.
Preservers of the, I. Iviii.-lxxii.
Collections of printed, I. Ixiii.-lxv,
" Collection of old Ballads," I. Ixix.
that illustrate Shakespeare, I. 151-246.
Ballad Literature since Percy, I. xci.-xcvii.
Meaning of the word ballad, I. xxx. 423.
Ballad-singers, I. xxxiii.-xxxiv.
Balowe, II. 209-213.
Bannatyne MS. I. Ixii.
Ba?-bara Allan, Sir John Grelwie and. III. 133-135.
Barbara Allen's Cruelty, III. 128-130.
Bards, successors of the ancient, I. 385.
Barton {Sir Atidrew), II. 188-208.
Version from the folio MS. II. 201-208.
Battle of Otterbourne, I. 35-54.
Beaumont and Fletcher, Fareiucll to Love, I. 310.
Bedlam, Old Tom of II. 344-347.
Bednall Green, Begi^ar's Daughter of, II. 171-185.
Bedwell (William), '11. 19.
Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green, II. 171-185.
"Belesant (Lady), the Duke of Lombardy's fair Daughter," III. 373.
" Bevis (Sir) of Hampton," referred to. III. 215, 265, 279, 357, 365.
Birth of St. George, III. 215-224.
Blondell de Nesle, the Minstrell, I. 359.
Bodvvell (Earle), II. 215-218.
Bohemia, Elizabeth, Queen of, II. 312.
Bolle (Sir John), II. 247.
Bond-story in the " Merchant of Venice," I. 211.
Bonny Pari of Murray, II. 226-228.
Bosville's (Godfrey), explanation of the "Dragon of Wantley,"
III. 281.
Bothwcll's {Lady Anne) La?nent, II. 209-213.
Boy and the Mantle, III. 3-12.
THREE VOLUMES. 413
Boy and the Mantle, as rez'ised ami altered by a modern hand, III.
Braes of Yarrow, II. 362-367.
Brandon's (Charles) livery and device, III. 167 (note).
Brave Lord WiUoiighbey, II. 23S-241,
Breton (Nicholas), III. 67, 80.
Bridds Burial, III. 148-152.
Brid^:;es, Gascoigne^s Praise of the Fair, II. 150-154.
Brown, Epithet applied to a sword, I. 112.
Brown (Mrs.) of Falkland, I. Lxvi.
Bryan and Pereene, by J. Grainger, I. 328-331.
Cadiz, Taking of, by the English, II. 243.
Caliburn, King Arthur's Sword, III. 32.
Carew (Thomas). Unfading Beauty, III. 239.
Carey (Henry), Distracted Lover, II. 355-357.
Carle of Carlisle, III. 367.
"Carre (Captain)", from the folio MS. I. 148-150.
Cauliue (Sir), I. 61-81.
Copy from the folio MS. I. 76-81.
Chambers (Robert), " Romantic Scottish Ballads " noticed, I. 1.
Character of a LLappy Life, by Sir H. Wotton, I. 317-318.
Charing-Cross, Do^onfall of, II. 323-326.
Charles L., Verges by, II. 329-332.
Chaucer, Original Ballad by, II. 14-16.
" Chevalere Assigne," an alliterative romance, II. 3813 III. 369.
Cheviot Hills, the scene of Chevy Chase, I. 254.
Chevy Chase, the Ancient Ballad of, I. 19-35.
Names mentioned in, I. 51-52.
The more Modern Ballad of, I. 249-264.
Names mentioned in, I. 263-264.
Child of Elk, 1 . 1 3 1 - 1 3 9.
Copy from the folio MS. I. 138-139.
Child Waters, III. 58-65.
Children in the Wood, III. 169-176.
Chylde Ipomydon, a Romance, III. 371.
Clym of the Clough, I. 153.
Clyne (Xorval) on the authenticity of Sir Patrick Spence, I. lii.
Complaint of Conscience, II. 279-285.
Constant I*enelope, III. 261-264
Cophetua (King) and the Beggxr-Maid, I. 189-194.
Coppe, an enthusiast, II. 349 (note).
Corbet (Bishop Richard), Fairies Farac>ell,'\\l. 207-213.
The Distracted Puritan, II. 347-351.
Corin's Fate, II. 262-263.
Cory don's Doleful Knell, W. 274-276.
414 INDEX TO THE
Cory don's Farewell to Fhillis, I. 209-211.
Courtier, Old and Young, II. 314-318.
Grants, Ophelia's virgin, III. 152 (note).
Cromwell {Thomas Lord'), II. 71-75.
Cunningham's (Allan) forged Ballads, I. xlvi.
Cupid, Hue and Cry after, III. 159-161.
Cupid and Ca?npaspe, by yohn Lilye, III. 85-86.
Cupid's Assault, by Lord Faux, II. 50-53.
Cupid's Pastime, I. 314-317.
Cymmortha in Wales, I. xix.
Daniel (S.), Ulysses and the Syren, I. 311-314.
Darnley, Ballad on his Murder, II. 213-218.
Daivson {yenmiy), II. 371-374.
" Death and Life," an alliterative Poem, II. 383.
Degree (Sir), a Romance, III. 371.
Deloney (Thomas), Ballad- Writer, I. xxxviii.
Sir Lancelot du Lake, I. 204-209.
The King of France's Daughter, III. 1 61-168.
The Winning of Cales, II. 243-246.
Dido {Queen), III. 1 91-196.
" Dioclesian, the Emperour," III. 373.
Distracted Lover, II-355-357-
Distracted Puritan, II. 347-351-
Douglas, Heraldic Arms of the House of, I. 47.
Doumfall of Charing Cross, II. 323-326.
Dowsabell, by Michael Drayton, I. 304-310.
Dragon of tVantley, III. 279-288.
Drayton (Michael), Dowsabell, I. 304-310.
Dulcina, III. 153-155.
D'Urfey {Tom), Frantic Lady, 11. 357-358-
Lady distracted with Love, II. 354-355-
Dyer (Sir E.), My Mind to Me a Kingdom is, I. 294-298.
Dyttie to ILey Downe, III. 44-45-
Edom d Gordon, I. 140-150.
Copy from the folio MS. I. 148-150.
Edward, Edward, a Scottish Ballad, I. 82-84.
Edward L., on the Death of II. 10-14.
Edward IV. and Tanner of Tamworth, 11. 92-100.
Edwards (Richard) A So?ig to the Lute in Musicke, I. 187-189.
" Eger and Grime," III. 368.
"Eglamour of Artas," a Romance, III. 370.
Eleanor's {Quee?i) Confession, II. 164-168.
Elderton (William), Ballad-Writer, I. xxxvii.
his Ballad, King of Scots and Andrew Browne, II. 221-225.
THREE VOLUMES. 415
Elizabeth {Quec/i), Sonnet by, II. 21S-220.
Verses while Prisoner at J J ooilstoeh, 11. 137-138.
Emanuel College, Cambridge, II. 34S (note).
Emare, Romance of, III. 369.
Erasmus, Colloquy on Pilgrimages, II. 86.
Est mere {King), I. 85-98.
" Every Man," I. 433.
EiC'-bughts, ^ far ion, a Scottish Song, III. 74-75.
Excalibar, King Arthur's Sword, III. 32.
Fair Margaret and Siiieet Williatn,\\\. 124-127.
Fair Rosamond, II. 154-164.
Fairies Farcii<ell, III. 207-211.
Fairy, Way to Get a, III. 210.
Fairy Queen, III. 204-207.
Fancy and Desire, by the Earl of Oxford, II. 185-187.
Faracell to Love, I. 310.
"Fit," meaning of a, I. xxiii. ; II. 182.
" Florence (Le bone) of Rome," III. 373.
Folio MS. and the Rcliqucs, I. Ixxxi.-xci., 5-6.
Four Elements, Interlude of the, I. 441.
France's {King of ) Daughter, III. 161-168.
Frantic Lady, II. 357, 358.
Friar of Orders Gray, I. 242-246.
Frolicksotne Duke, or the Tinker's good Fortune, I. 238-242.
Funeral Garlands, III. 152 (note).
Gaberhmyie Man, II. 67-71.
Garlands of Ballads, I. 423.
Garlands (Funeral), III. 152 (note).
Gascoigne's Praise of the Fair Bridges, II. 150-154.
Gawain, the Duke and. III. 367.
and the Cireene Knight, III. 367.
" Sir Gawan and Sir Galaron of Galloway," metrical Romance,
111.375-
" Gawan and Gologras," metrical Romance, III. 375.
Marriage of Sir Gawaync, III. 13-24.
Ancient Fragment from the folio MS. 323-330.
Gentle Herdsman, tell to fne, II. 86-92.
Gentle River, Gentle River, translated by Percy, I. 331-338.
George {St.), Birth of III. 215-224.
and the Dragon, III. 224-232.
for England, the first part, III. 288-293.
the second part, by John Grubb, III. 293-308.
George Barnwell, 1 1 1 . 2 40-25 2 .
Gernutus the J^ew of Venice, I. 21 1-220.
41 6 INDEX TO THE
Gil Morrice, 111. 91-100.
Version from the folio MS. 100-103.
Gilderoy, I. 318-323.
Glasgerion, III. 45-49.
the Harper, I. 396.
Gleemen, I. 392.
Glover (R,), Admiral Hosier's Ghost, II. 367-371.
Good-Man, The Auld, III. 122-124.
Graham (David) of Fintray, II. 229.
Grainger (J.), Bryan and Fereene, I. 328-331.
Gramarye, on the word, I. 96.
" Green Knight," III. 367.
Greenham (Richard), II. 350 (note).
Grehme {Sir yolvi), and Barbara Allan, III. 133-135.
Grubb (John), St. George for England, the second part, III. 293-
308.
Guy of Gisborne, I. 102.
Guy (Sir), Legend of. III. 1 07-1 13.
Romance of, III. 364.
Two Poems on Guy of Warwick, III. 364.
Guy a?id Amarant, III. 11 4- 121.
Guy and Colbronde, Romance of, III. 364.
Hamilton i^ ^, The Braes of Yarrow, II. 362-367.
Hardyknute, a Scottish Fragment, II. 105-121.
Harpalus, an Ancient English Fastoral, II. 75-79.
Harpers and Minstrels, I. 390.
Harrington, Witch of Wokey, I. 325-328.
Hawes (Stephen) Tower of Doctrine,!. 127-130.
Hawker (Rev. R. S.), Imitator of the Old Ballad, I. xlv.
Heir of Linne, II. 138-150.
Version from the folio MS. II. 147-150.
Henry II. and the Miller of Mansfield, III. 178-188.
Henryson (Robert) Robin and Makyne, II. 79-86.
Hey Downe, Dyttie to, III. 44-45.
" Hick Scorner," I. 435.
Hock Tuesday, Coventry Play of, I. 445.
Holy-land, As Ye Came from the, II. 1 01 -105
• Version from the foHo MS. II. 104-105.
Home Childe, Romance of, III. 363.
Hosier' s {Admiral) Ghost, II. 367-371.
Howleglas, Merye Jest of, I. 431.
Hue and Cry after Cupid, III. 159-161.
Hugh of Lincoln, Story of, I. 54.
Humbledon, Battle of, I. 35.
THREE VOLUMES. 417
Ipomydon, a Romance, III. 371.
Ipotis, Poem of, III. 364.
Isabella' s {Lady) Tragedy, III. 155-15S.
Isenbras (Sir), Romance of, III. 369.
Islington, III. 135.
James V. Gahcrluuyie Man, II. 67-71.
James I. of England, Verses by, II. 300-302.
King of Scots and Andretv Brozvne, II. 221-225.
Jane Shore, II. 263-273.
Jealousy, Spanish Virgin, or Effects of. III. 255-259.
Jealousy Tyrant of the Mind, III, 260.
Jemmy Dawson, II. 371-374.
Jephthah, Judge of Israel, I. 1 8 2 - 1 85 .
Jccu's Daughter, I. 54-60.
Jews supposed to crucify Christian Children, I. 54.
John {King) and the Abbot of Canterbury, II. 303-3 12.
Version from the folio IMS. II. 308-312.
John Anderson my Jo, II. 131- 133.
"John the Reeve," referred to, II. 93, 179.
Johnson (Richard), Ballad-Writer, I. xxxix.
Jonson (Ben.) A Hue and Cry after Cupid, III. 159-161.
The Sweet Negled, III. 169.
The IVihhes' Song, III. 196-199.
King (Francis), the Skipton Minstrel, I. xxiii.
King and Miller of Mansfield, III. 178-188.
King Arthur's Death, III. 27-35.
Version from the folio MS. III. 35-39.
King Cophetua and the Beggar- Maid, I. 189-194.
King Est mere, I. 85-98.
King Leir and his Three Daughters, I. 231-237.
King Kyence's Challenge, III. 24-27.
King of France's Daughter, III. 1 6 1 - 1 68.
King of Scots, Murder of the, II. 213-218.
King of Scots and Andrexo Broicnc, II. 221-225.
"King of Tars," III. 374.
Knight and Shepherd's Daughter, III. 76-80.
" Knight of Courtesy and the Lady of Fagucl," III. 372.
iMdy Distracted 7i'ith Lore, II. 354, 355.
Lady turned Serving-Man, ill. 86-90.
Lady Anne Bothweirs Lament, II. 209-213.
iMdy Isabella s Tragedy, III. 155-158.
Lady's Fall, III. 139-145.
3 K K
41 8 INDEX TO THE
Laing's (David) Opinion on the Authenticity of Sir Patrick Spe?ice,
I. xHx.
Lambewell (Sir), Romance of, III. 368.
Lancelot (Sir) du Lake, I. 204-209.
Langland's Visions of Pierce Plowman, II. 377-394-
Launfal (Sir), a Romance, III. 368.
" Lay of Erie of Thoulouse," III. 372.
Legend of King Arthur, III. 39-43-
Legend of Sir Guy, III. 107- 113.
Legh (Sir Urias), II. 247.
Leir {King) and his Three Daughters, I. 231-237.
Levison (Sir Richard), II. 247.
Libius Disconius, analysis of the Romance of, III. 358, 366.
Z////^/<'r/dr^, II. 358-362.
Lilly (John), Cupid and Campaspe, III. 85-86.
Little John Nobody, II. 133-137-
Little Musgravc and Lady Barnard, III. 68-74.
Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, III. 234-238.
Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor, III. 82-85.
Love will find out a Way, III. 232-234.
Lovelace (Richard), To Altheafrom Prison, II. 321-323.
To Lucasta on Going to the Wars, III. 264-265.
Lover (A) of Late, III. 177-178.
Loyalty Confined, II. 326-329.
Lucasta {To) on Going to the Wars, III. 264-265.
Lucy and Colin, III. 312-315.
Lunatic Lover, II. 351-353.
Luther, the Pope, a Cardinal, and a LLusbandman, a Ballad of, II.
125-130.
Lusty Juventus, Interlude of, I. 442.
Lye {The), by Sir Walter Raleigh, II. 297-300.
Mad Songs— I. Old Tom of Bedlam, II. 344-347-
2. The Distracted Puritan, II. 347-351-
3. The Lunatic Lover, II. 351-353-
4. The Lady Distracted with Love, II. 354-355-
5. The Distracted Lover, II. 355 -357-
6. The Frantic Lady, II. 357-35S.
Mahound, on the word, I. 97-
Maid Marian, III. 186.
Maitland MS. I. Ixii.
Mallet (D.), Margarefs Ghost, III. 308-312.
MS. (Folio) and the Peliques, I. Ixxxi.-xci, 5-6.
Margaret {Fair) and Sweet William, III. 124-127.
Margarefs Ghost, III. 308-312.
Mariowe's (C), Passionate Shepherd to his Love, I. 220-224.
THREE VOLUMES. 419
Marriage of Sir Gawayne, III. 13-24.
Ancient Fragment from the folio IMS. III. 3-3-330,
Mary Ambree, II. 231-237.
Version from folio MS. II. 235-237.
" Merchant of Venice," Bond-Story in, I. 211.
Merline, Romance of, III. 369.
" Milky Way," Names of, II. 88.
Miller of Mansfield, King and. III. 178-188.
Minstrels, I. xiii.-xxiv.
Essay on the Ancient, in England, I. 343-381.
Notes on, I. 382-430.
Mirrour for Magistrates, I. 444.
Montfort (Simon de). Earl of Leicester, II. 3.
More of More-Hall, III. 2S3.
Morrice {Gil), III. 91-100.
Version from the folio MS. III. 100-103.
Morte Arthure, III. 366.
Monday (Anthony), Ballad-Writer, I. xxxix.
Murder of the King of Scots, 11. 213-218.
Murray, The Bonny Earl of, II. 226-228.
Musgrave {Little) and Lady Barnard, III. 68-74.
My Mind to me a Kingdo?n is, I. 294-298.
" New (The) -Custom," I. 444.
Northu/nberland {Henry, ^th Earl of), Elegy on, by Skclton,
I. 117-126.
Northumberland (Thomas, 7th Earl of), I. 266.
Northumberland betrayed by Douglas, I. 279-288.
Version from the folio MS. I. 289-294.
Northumberland (Elizabeth Duchess of). Dedications to, I. i-;
Norton (Richard) and his Sons, I. 267, 270.
Not-Bro7vne Mayd, II. 31-47.
O Nancy 7i'ilt thou go 7ciith nu\ I. Ixxii.
"Octavian Imperator,"' a Romance, III. 370.
Old and Young Courtier, II. 314-318.
Old Robin of Fortingale, III. 50-54.
Version from the folio MS. III. 55-58.
Old Tom of Bedlam, II. 344-347.
Otterbourne, The Battle of, I. 35-54.
"Otucl, a Knight," III. 374.
"Owain Myles,"III. 370.
O.xford (Edward Vere, Earl of), Fancy and Desire, II. 185-187.
Parker (.Martin), Royalist I'.allad-Writer, I. xl.
Passionate Shepherd to his Love, I. 220-224.
420 INDEX TO THE
Patient Cotintess, I. 298-304.
Fetielope, Constant, III. 261-264.
Pepperden, Battle of, I. 252.
Percy (Bishop Thomas), Life of, I. Ixxi.-lxxx.
Portraits of, I. Ixxx.
Friar of Orders Gray, I. 242-246.
Perkins (William), II. 350 (note).
Phillida and Corydon, III. 66-68.
Pierce Plowman's Visions, alliterative Metre without Rhyme in,
II- 377-394-
Pipers (Town) of Scotland, I. xx.
Plain Truth a?id Blind Ignorance, II. 285-290.
Pohtick Maid, II, 337.
Popham (Sir John), II. 247.
Portugal, Voyage to, 1588, III. 176.
Prior's Henry and Emma, 11. 31.
Pucke, ahas Hobgoblin, III. 199.
Puritan, the Distracted, II. 347-351.
Queen Dido, III. 191-196.
Rahere, the King's Minstrel, I. 406.
Raleigh (Sir Walter), The Lye, II. 297-300.
The Ny7np]i's keply, I. 223-224.
" Reliques," first publication of the, I. Ixxv., Ixxxix.
Sources of the, I. Ixxxi.-xci.
Rembrun, Romance of, III. 365.
"Richard Cure de Lyon, Historye of," III. 356, 372.
Richard of Almaigne, II. 3-10.
Rising in the North, I. 266-274.
Version from the folio MS. I. 274-278.
Risp, or Tirling-pin, III. 47 (note).
Ritson's Attack upon Percy, I. xiv.
Rivers (Earl of), Balet, II. 45-49-
" Robert, Kynge of Cysill," III. 373.
Robin {Old) of Portingale, III. 50-54.
Version from the folio MS. III. 55-58.
Robin and Makyne, an Ancient Scottish Pastoral, 11. 79-86.
Robin Good-Fellow, III. 199-204.
Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne, I. 1 02-1 16,
Robin Redbreast, popular belief relating to, III. 1 71-176.
Robyn {A), jolly Robyn, I. 185-187.
Rolricht Stones, III. 302.
Romances, on the Ancient Metrical, III. 339-376.
Rondeau or Roundel, II. 14.
Rosamond {Fair), II. 154-164.
THREE VOLUMES. 421
Roxburghe Ballads, I. Ixiii.
Kycncds {Jvi/ig) Challenge, III. 24-:!7-
Sale of Rebellious Household- Stuff, II. 332-336.
Sandes (Lady), II. 150.
Scott (Sir Walter) on the Controversy between Percy and Ritson,
I. xiv.
" Scottish Feilde," an alliterative Poem, II. 384.
" Sege of Jerusalem," an alliterative Poem, II. 381 ; III. 369.
Shakespeare, Ballads that illustrate, I. 151-246.
Take those Lips away, I. 230.
Youth and Age, I. 237-238.
Sheale (Richard), the Preserver of Chety Chase, I. xviii. 19.
Shenstone (y^^, Jemmy Daw son, W. 371-374.
Shepherds Address to his Muse, III. 80-81.
Shepherds Resolution, III. 188-191.
Shirley (J.), Death's Final Conquest, I. 264-265.
Victorious Men of Earth, II. 242.
Shore {Jane), II. 263-273.
Sir, the title applied to Priests, I. 116.
Sir Aldingar, II. 54-67.
Version from the folio MS. II. 61-67.
Sir Andrrco Barton, II. 188-208.
Version from the folio MS. II. 201-208.
Sir Cauline, I. 61-81.
Copy from the folio MS. I. 76-81.
Sir Degree, Degare or Degore, a Romance, III. 371.
Sir Gawan and Sir Galaron of Galloway, metrical Romance,
in. 375-
Sir Isenbras, Romance of, III. 369.
Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan, \\\. 133-135.
Sir John Suckling's Canipaigne, II. 318-321.
Sir Lancelot du Lake, I. 204-209.
Sir Patrick Spence, I. 98-102.
Authenticity of, I. xlviii.
Skeat(Rev. VV. W.) on the Essay on Alliterative Metre, II. 394.
Skelton's (John) Elegy on Henry, fourth Earl of Northutnberland,
I. 1 17-126.
Soldan or Sowdan, on the words, I. 98.
Song to the iMte in Musicke, I. 187-189.
Sonnet by Queen Elizabeth, II. 218-220.
Soulcs (The) Krrand, II. 297-300.
Spanish Ballads, I. 331.
Spanish Lady's Lm'c, II. 247-251.
Spanish Virgin, or Effects of Jealousy, III. 255-259.
Squyr of Lowe Degrc, a Romance, III. 372.
422 INDEX TO THE
Stage, on the Origin of the EngHsh, I. 431-458.
Stedfast Shepherd, III. 253-255.
Sturdy Rock, II. 169-170.
Suckling (Sir John), Why so Pale, II. 343-344.
Sir John Suckling's Campaigne, II. 318-321.
Surtees (Robert), Forger of Old Ballads, I. xlvii.
Susanna, Ballad of Constant, I. 209.
Sweet Neglect, III. 169.
Sweet William, Fair Margaret and. III. 124-127.
Sweet William's Ghost, III. 130-133.
Syr Triamore, a Romance, III. 371.
Taillefer the Minstrel, I. xvi. 403.
Take those Lips away, I. 230.
Take thy old Cloak about thee, I. 195-198.
" Taming of the Shrew," Story of the induction to, I. 238.
Tearne-Wadhng no longer a lake. III. 14 (note).
Termagaunt, on the word, I. 96.
Thomas {Lord) and Fair Anuet, III. 234-238.
Thomas {Lord) a?id Fair Ellinor, III. 82-85.
Thoms (W. J.), Note on the Reliques, I. Ixxxviii.
Thorn (M.), Sturdy Rock, II. 169-170.
" Thoulouse, Lay of Erie of," III. 372.
Tickell (Thomas), Lucy and Colin, III. 312-315.
Tirling Pin or Risp, III. 47 (note).
Titus Andronicus's Complaint, I. 224-229.
Tom {Old) of Bedlam, II. 344-347.
Tottenham, Tmuvnentof, II. 17-28.
Tower of Doctrine, by Stephen Hawes, I. 127-130.
Triamore (Syr), a Romance, III. 371.
Turke and Gawain, III. 367.
Turnament of Tottenham, II. 17-28.
Turnewathelan, III. 375.
Tutbury Court of Minstrels, I. 368
Ulysses and the Syren, by S. Daniel, I. 31 1-3 14.
Unfading Beauty, III. 239.
Valentine and Ursine, 111. 265-279.
Vaux (Thomas, Lord), Cupid's Assault, II. 50-53.
The Aged Lover renounceth Love, I. 179-182.
Verses by K. James I., II. 300-302.
Verses by K. Charles /., II. 329-332.
Victorious Men of Earth, II. 242.
Waits attached to Corporate Towns, I. xvi.
THREE VOL UMES. 423
Walsingham, Shrine of the Virgin at, II. 86, loi.
W'aihhring Jai', II. 291-296.
Watitley, Dragon of. III. 279-288.
Wanton Wife of Bath, III. 333-338.
Waly Waly, Loz'e be Bonny, III. 145-148.
Wardlaw (Lady), Imitator of the Old Ballad, I. xliv., xlix.
Hardy knutc, II. 105-121.
Warner (\V.), Argenti/e and Curan, II. 252-262.
The Patient Countess,!. 298-304.
Waters {Child), III. 58-65.
Waters {Young), II. 228-231.
Westmorland (Earl of), I. 266.
Whamclili'e Lodge and Wood, III. 281.
Wharton (Thomas, Marquis of), Lilli Burlero, II. 358-362.
Why so Pale, by Sir John Suckling, II. 343-344.
Wife ( Wanton) of Bath, III. 333-338.
William (St.) of Norwich, I. 56.
William of Cloudesley, I. 153.
William {Sii'eet), Pair Margaret and. III. 124-127.
William's {S7^'eet) Ghost, III. 130-133.
William and Margaret, by D. Mallet, III. 308-312.
Willoughbey {Brave Lord), II. 238-241.
Willow, IVillozc, Willow, I. 199-203.
Willo7ii Tree, a Pastoral Dialogue, III. 137-139.
Winifreda, I. 323-325.
Winning of Cales, II. 243-246.
Witch of Wokey, by Dr. Harrington, I. 325-328.
Witches' Song, III. 196-199.
Wither (George), Shepherd's Resolution, III. 188-191.
The Stedfast Shepherd, III. 253-255.
Wokey-hole in Somersetshire, I. 325.
Wortley (Sir Thomas), III. 282.
Wotton (Sir H.), Character of a Happy Life, I. 317-318.
You Meaner Beauties, II. 312-314.
Yarro^u, The Braes of, II. 362-367.
You Meaner Beauties, II. 312-314.
Young Waters, II. 228-231.
Youth a nd Age, 1 . 237-238.
Ypotis, Poem of, III. 364.
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