John Dory.
As it fell on a holy day,
And upon a holytide a:
John Dory brought him an ambling nag,
To Paris for to ride a.
And when John Dory to Paris was come,
A little before the gate a;
John Dory was fitted, the porter was witted,
To let him in thereat a.
The first man that John Dory did meet,
Was good King John of France a;
John Dory could well of his courtesie,
But fell down in a trance a.
A pardon, a pardon, my liege and my king,
For my merry men and for me a:
And all the churls in merry England
I’ll bring them bound to thee a.
And Nichol was then a Cornish man
A little beside Bohyde a;
He manned him forth a goodly bark,
With fifty good oars of a side a.
Run up, my boy, into the main top,
And look what thou can’st spy a;
Who, ho! who, ho! a good ship do I see,
I trow it be John Dory a.
They hoist their sails both top and top,
The mizen and all was tried a,
And every man stood to his lot,
Whatever should betide a.
The roaring cannons then were plied,
And dub-a-dub went the drum a:
The braying trumpets loud they cried,
To courage both all and some a.
The grappling hooks were brought at length,
The brown bill and the sword a;
John Dory at length, for all his strength,
Was clapt fast under board a.
This song is mentioned by Carew in his Survey of Cornwall; in it he says—“the prowesse of one Nicholas, sonne to a widdow neere Foy is deskanted upon.” (He was one of the “Fowey gallants.”)
An Old Ballad,
ON A DUKE OF CORNWALL’S DAUGHTER;
WHO AFTER HER MARRIAGE TO A KING OF ALBION, WAS DIVORCED FOR THE SAKE OF A FAVOURITE MISTRESS; AND HER EXEMPLARY REVENGE ON THEM BOTH.
When Humber in his wrathful rage
King Albanact in field had slain,
Whose bloody broils for to assuage,
King Locrin then applied his pain;
And with a host of Britons stout,
At length he found king Humber out:
At vantage great he met him then,
And with his host beset him so,
That he destroyed his warlike men,
And Humber’s power did overthrow;
And Humber, which for fear did fly,
Leapt into a river desp’rately;
And being drowned in the deep,
He left a lady there alive,
Which sadly did lament and weep,
For fear they should her life deprive.
But by her face that was so fair,
The king was caught in Cupid’s snare:
He took this lady to his love,
Who secretly did keep it still;
So that the queen did quickly prove,
The king did bear her most good will:
Which though by wedlock late begun,
He had by her a gallant son.
Queen Guendolin was griev’d in mind,
To see the king was alter’d so:
At length the cause she chanc’d to find,
Which brought her to much bitter woe.
For Estrild was his joy (God wot),
By whom a daughter he begot.
The Duke of Cornwall being dead,
The father of that gallant queen:
The king with lust being overlaid,
His lawful wife he cast off clean:
Who with her dear and tender son,
For succour did to Cornwall run.
Then Locrin crowned Estrild bright,
And made of her his lawful wife:
With her which was his heart’s delight,
He sweetly thought to lead his life.
Thus Guendolin, as one forlorn,
Did hold her wretched life in scorn.
But when the Cornish men did know
The great abuse she did endure,
With her a number great did go,
Which she by prayer did procure.
In battle then they march’d along,
For to redress this grievous wrong.
And near a river called Store,
The king with all his host she met;
Where both the armies fought full sore,
But yet the queen the field did get:
Yet ere they did the conquest gain,
The king was with an arrow slain.
Then Guendolin did take in hand,
Until her son was come to age,
The government of all the land;
But first her fury to assuage,
She did command her soldiers wild,
To drown both Estrild and her child.
Incontinent then they did bring
Fair Estrild to the river-side,
And Sabrine, daughter to a king,
Whom Guendolin could not abide;
Who being bound together fast,
Into the river they were cast:
And ever since that running stream
Wherein the ladies drowned were,
Is called Severn through the realm,
Because that Sabrine died there.
Thus those that did to lewdness bend,
Were brought unto a woful end.