FOOTNOTES:
[480] See Thoresby's Ducat. Leod. p. 576. Biog. Brit. vi. 3933.
[481] Stukeley, in his Palæographia Britannica, No. II. 1746.
[482] See also the following ballad, v. 147.
[483] Num. D. 5. 2.
[484] Old Plays, 4to. K. vol. x.
[485] Ser. 6th before K. Ed. Apr. 12. fol. 75, Gilpin's Life of Lat., p. 122.
[486] [when woods are bright.]
[487] [twigs.]
[488] [Ver. 1. shales, f. MS.]
[489] [V. 4. birds singe, f. MS.]
[490] [woodpecker or thrush.]
[491] [V. 5. woodweete, f. MS.]
[492] [In place of ver. 6-12 between brackets the f. MS. has—
"Amongst the leaves a lyne
[* * * * *]
And it is by two wight yeomen
By deare God that I meane.">[
[493] [faith.]
[494] [dream.]
[495] [strong.]
[496] [from me.]
[497] [revenged.]
[498] [dress ye, get ye ready.]
[499] [Ver. 28. a shooting gone are they, f. MS.]
[500] [were they aware.]
[501] [V. 34. had beene many a mans bane, f. MS.]
[502] [horse-hide.]
[503] [V. 40. to know his meaning trulye, f. MS.]
[504] [strange.]
[505] [V. 42. and thats a ffarley thinge, f. MS.]
[506] [breed mischief.]
[507] i.e. ways, passes, paths, ridings. Gate is a common word in the north for way.
[508] [greensward between two woods.]
[509] [Ver. 61. yet one shoote I'le shoote, says Little John, f. MS.]
[510] [V. 64. to be both glad & ffaine, f. MS.]
[511] [V. 65. John bent up a good veiwe bowe, f. MS.]
[512] [prepared.]
[513] [V. 69. woe worth thee, wicked wood, says litle John, f. MS.]
[514] help.
[515] [Ver. 74. the arrowe flew in vaine, f. MS.]
[516] [V. 78. to hange upon a gallowe, f. MS.]
[517] [V. 79. then for to lye in the green-woode, f. MS.]
[518] [V. 80. there slaine with an arrowe, f. MS.]
[519] [V. 82. 6 can doe more then 3, f. MS.]
[520] [V. 83. and they have tane litle John, f. MS.]
[521] [V. 87. But thou may ffayle, quoth litle John, f. MS.]
[522] [V. 88. If itt be christ's own will, f. MS.]
[523] [V. 90-92. in place of these three verses the f. MS. has:—
"for hee is bound fast to a tree,
and talke of Guy and Robin Hood
In they green woode where they bee
[how these two yeomen together they mett
under the leaves of Lyne,
to see what marchandise they made
even at that same time.">[]
[524] [Ver. 93. good morrow, good fellow! quoth Sir Guy, f. MS.]
[525] [V. 96. a good archer thou seems to bee, f. MS.]
[526] [ignorant.]
[527] [V. 97. quoth Sir Guye, f. MS.]
[528] [V. 101. I seeke an outlaw, quoth Sir Guye, f. MS.]
[529] [V. 103-4.—
"I had rather meet with him upon a day
Then 40li. of golde.">[
[530] [V. 105-8. in place of these four verses the f. MS. has—
"Iff you tow mett itt wold be seene whether were better
afore yee did part awaye;
Let us some other pastime find,
good ffellow, I thee pray:">[
[531] [trial of skill.]
[532] [V. 109-10.
"Let us some other masteryes make,
and wee will walke in the woods even," f. MS.]
[533] [at a time not previously appointed.]
[534] [shrubs.]
[535] [briar.]
[536] [mark in the centre of the target.]
[537] [Ver. 116. prickes full near, f. MS.]
[538] [V. 117. sayd Sir Guye, f. MS.]
[539] [V. 119. nay by my faith, quoth Robin Hood, f. MS.]
[540] [V. 120. the leader, f. MS.]
[541] [V. 121-23:—
"the first good shoot that Robin ledd
did not shoote an inch the pricke ffroe.
Guy was an archer good enoughe.">[
[542] [V. 125. the 2nd shoote Sir Guy shott.]
[543] [the ring within which the prick was set.]
[544] [pole.]
[545] [V. 129. gods blessing on thy heart! sayes Guye.]
[546] [Ver. 133. tell me thy name, good fellow, quoth Guy.]
[547] [lime.]
[548] [V. 135. good robin.]
[549] [V. 136-140:—
"I dwell by dale and downe, quoth Guye,
and I have done many a curst turne;
and he that calles me by my right name,
calles me Guy of good Gysborne.">[
[550] V. 144. a ffellow thou hast long sought.
[551] The common epithet for a sword or other offensive weapon, in the old metrical romances is Brown, as "brown brand," or "brown sword," "brown bill," &c., and sometimes even "bright brown sword." Chaucer applies the word rustie in the same sense; thus he describes the reve:—
"And by his side he bare a rusty blade."
Prol. ver. 620.
And even thus the God Mars:—
"And in his hand he had a rousty sword."
Test. of Cressid. 188
Spenser has sometimes used the same epithet. See Warton's Observ. vol. ii. p. 62. It should seem, from this particularity, that our ancestors did not pique themselves upon keeping their weapons bright: perhaps they deemed it more honourable to carry them stained with the blood of their enemies. [As the swords are here said to be bright as well as brown, they could not have been rusty. The expression nut-brown sword was used to designate a Damascus blade.]
[552] [Ver. 149. "to have seen how these yeomen together fought.">[
[553] [V. 151-2:—
"itt was neither Guy nor Robin Hood
that ffettled them to flye away.">[
[554] [careless.]
[555] [maid.]
[556] V. 163. awkwarde, MS.
[557] [V. 164. "good sir Guy hee has slayne," f. MS.]
[558] [Ver. 172. cold tell who Sir Guye was.]
[559] [V. 173. good Sir Guye.]
[560] [V. 182:—
"and with me now Ile beare
ffor now I will goe to Barnesdale," f. MS.]
[561] [small hill.]
[562] [Ver. 199:—
"Ile none of thy gold, sayes Robin Hood
nor Ile none of itt have," f. MS.]
[563] [voice.]
[564] [quickly.]
[565] [help.]
[566] [Ver. 225-8:—
"But John tooke Guyes bow in his hand,
his arrowes were rawstye by the roote;
the sherriffe saw little John draw a bow
and ffettle him to shoote.">[
[567] [V. 229. Towards his house in Nottingham.]
[568] [V. 233-6:—
"But he cold neither soe fast goe,
nor away soe fast runn,
but litle John with an arrow broade
did cleave his head in twinn," f. MS.]
IX.
AN ELEGY ON HENRY FOURTH EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
The subject of this poem, which was written by Skelton, is the death of Henry Percy, fourth earl of Northumberland, who fell a victim to the avarice of Henry VII. In 1489 the parliament had granted the king a subsidy for carrying on the war in Bretagne. This tax was found so heavy in the North, that the whole country was in a flame. The E. of Northumberland, then lord lieutenant for Yorkshire, wrote to inform the king of the discontent, and praying an abatement. But nothing is so unrelenting as avarice: the king wrote back that not a penny should be abated. This message being delivered by the earl with too little caution, the populace rose, and, supposing him to be the promoter of their calamity, broke into his house, and murdered him, with several of his attendants, who yet are charged by Skelton with being backward in their duty on this occasion. This melancholy event happened at the earl's seat at Cocklodge, near Thirske, in Yorkshire, April 28, 1489. See Lord Bacon, &c.
If the reader does not find much poetical merit in this old poem (which yet is one of Skelton's best), he will see a striking picture of the state and magnificence kept up by our ancient nobility during the feudal times. This great earl is described here as having, among his menial servants, knights, squires, and even barons: see v. 32. 183. &c. which, however different from modern manners, was formerly not unusual with our greater barons, whose castles had all the splendour and offices of a royal court before the laws against retainers abridged and limited the number of their attendants.
John Skelton, who commonly styled himself Poet Laureat, died June 21, 1529. The following poem, which appears to have been written soon after the event, is printed from an ancient MS. copy preserved in the British Museum, being much more correct than that printed among Skelton's Poems in bl. let. 12mo. 1568.—It is addressed to Henry Percy, fifth earl of Northumberland, and is prefaced, &c. in the following manner:
Poeta Skelton Laureatus libellum suum metrice alloquitur.
Ad dominum properato meum mea pagina Percy,
Qui Northumbrorum jura paterna gerit,
Ad nutum celebris tu prona repone leonis,
Quæque suo patri tristia justa cano.
Ast ubi perlegit, dubiam sub mente volutet
Fortunam, cuncta quæ male fida rotat.
Qui leo sit felix, & Nestoris occupet annos;
Ad libitum cujus ipse paratus ero.
[Percy does not do justice to Skelton's poetical powers in the above note, as this Elegy is written in a style not at all characteristic of him and is also far from being one of his best poems. Skelton was one of the earliest personal satirists in our language, and he flew at high game when he attacked the powerful Wolsey with fierce invective, in his "Why come ye nat to courte?" His Boke of Phyllyp Sparrowe is described by Coleridge as "an exquisite and original poem," and its subject entitles him to the designation of the modern Catullus. It was very popular in his day, and the nursery rhyme of Who killed Cock robin? was probably paraphrased from the portion of the poem in which the funeral of the sparrow is related. Skelton was a distinguished scholar and his earlier poems are written in the serious strain of the Elegy, but curiously enough about the time that he took orders (1498) and became rector of Diss in Norfolk, he began to write in a more natural, frolicsome and satirical vein, and adopted the metre now known as Skeltonian. He was not very particular as to the words he used, but he does not deserve the opprobrious epithet that Pope applies to him in the couplet—
"Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learned by rote,
And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote."
Skelton graduated as poet laureate at the two Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and the King allowed him to wear an appropriate decoration at court. There is a full length portrait of the poet in Brydges' British Bibliographer (vol. iv. p. 389), taken from one on the back of the title of A ryght delectable tratyse upon a goodly Garlande or Chaplet of Laurell by Mayster Skelton, Poete laureat.
The Rev. Alexander Dyce published the first complete collected edition of Skelton's Poetical Works in 1843 (2 vols. 8vo.)]
SKELTON LAUREAT UPON THE DOLORUS DETHE AND MUCH LAMENTABLE CHAUNCE OF THE MOOST HONORABLE ERLE OF NORTHUMBERLANDE.
I wayle, I wepe, I sobbe, I sigh ful sore
The dedely fate, the dolefulle destenny
Of him that is gone, alas! withoute restore,
Of the blode[569] royall descendinge nobelly;
Whos lordshepe doutles was slayne lamentably5
Thorow treson ageyn[570] hym compassyd and wrought;
Trew to his prince, in word, in dede, and thought.
Of hevenly poems, O Clyo calde by name
In the college of musis goddess hystoriall,
Adres the to me, whiche am both halt and lame10
In elect uteraunce to make memoryall:
To the for soccour, to the for helpe I call
Myne homely rudnes and drighnes to expelle
With the freshe waters of Elyconys[571] welle.
Of noble actes auncyently enrolde,15
Of famous princis and lordes of astate,[572]
By thy report ar wonte to be extold,
Regestringe trewly every formare date;
Of thy bountie after the usuall rate,
Kyndle in me suche plenty of thy noblès,[573]20
Thes sorrowfulle dities that I may shew expres.
In sesons past who hathe harde or sene
Of formar writinge by any presidente
That vilane hastarddis[574] in ther furious tene,[575]
Fulfyld with malice of froward entente,25
Confeterd[576] togeder of commoun concente
Falsly to slo[577] ther moste singular goode lorde?
It may be registerde of shamefull recorde.
So noble a man, so valiaunt lorde and knight,
Fulfilled with honor, as all the worlde dothe ken;30
At his commaundement, whiche had both day and night
Knyghtis and squyers, at every season when
He calde upon them, as menyall houshold men:
Were no thes commones uncurteis karlis of kynde[578]
To slo their owne lorde? God was not in their minde.35
And were not they to blame, I say also,
That were aboute hym, his owne servants of trust,
To suffre hym slayn of his mortall fo?
Fled away from hym, let hym ly in the dust:
They bode[579] not till the rekening were discust.40
What shuld I flatter? what shulde I glose[580] or paynt?
Fy, fy for shame, their harts wer to faint.
In Englande and Fraunce, which gretly was redouted;[581]
Of whom both Flaunders and Scotland stode in drede;
To whome grete astates obeyde and lowttede;[582]45
A mayny[583] of rude villayns made him for to blede:
Unkindly they slew hym, that holp them oft at nede:
He was their bulwark, their paves,[584] and their wall,
Yet shamfully they slew hym; that shame mot[585] them befal.
I say, ye commoners, why wer ye so stark mad?50
What frantyk frensy fyll[586] in youre brayne?
Where was your wit and reson, ye shuld have had?
What willfull foly made yow to ryse agayne[587]
Your naturall lord? alas! I can not fayne.
Ye armed you with will, and left your wit behynd;55
Well may you be called comones most unkynd.
He was your chyfteyne, your shelde, your chef defence,
Redy to assyst you in every tyme of nede:
Your worship[588] depended of his excellence:
Alas! ye mad men, to far ye did excede:60
Your hap was unhappy, to ill was your spede:
What movyd you agayn hym to war or to fight?
What aylde you to sle your lord agyn all right?
The grounde of his quarel was for his sovereyn lord,
The welle concernyng of all the hole lande,65
Demaundyng soche dutyes as nedis most acord
To the right of his prince which shold not be withstand;
For whos cause ye slew hym with your awne hande:
But had his nobill men done wel that day,
Ye had not been hable to have saide him nay.70
But ther was fals packinge,[589] or els I am begylde:
How-be-it the matter was evident and playne,
For yf they had occupied[590] ther spere and ther shelde,
This noble man doutles had not be slayne.
Bot men say they wer lynked with a double chayn,75
And held with the commouns under a cloke,
Whiche kindeled the wyld fyre that made all this smoke.
The commouns renyed[591] ther taxes to pay
Of them demaunded and asked by the kinge;
With one voice importune, they playnly said nay:80
They buskt them on a bushment[592] themself in baile[593] to bringe:
Agayne the kings plesure to wrastle or to wringe,[594]
Bluntly as bestis withe boste[595] and with cry
They saide, they forsede[596] not, nor carede not to dy.
The noblenes of the northe this valiant lorde and knyght,85
As man that was innocent of trechery or trayne,
Presed forthe boldly to witstand the myght,
And, lyke marciall Hector, he fauht them agayne,
Vigorously upon them with myght and with mayne,
Trustinge in noble men that wer with hym there:90
Bot all they fled from hym for falshode or fere.
Barons, knights, squyers, one and alle,
Togeder with servaunts of his famuly,
Turnid their backis, and let ther master fall,
Of whos [life] they counted not a flye;95
Take up whos wolde for them, they let hym ly.
Alas! his golde, his fee, his annuall rente
Upon suche a sort[597] was ille bestowde and spent.
He was envyronde aboute on every syde
Withe his enemys, that were stark mad and wode;[598]100
Yet whils he stode he gave them woundes wyde:
Alas for routhe![599] what thouche his mynde were goode,
His corage manly, yet ther he shed his bloode!
All left alone, alas! he fawte in vayne;
For cruelly amonge them ther he was slayne.105
Alas for pite! that Percy thus was spylt,[600]
The famous erle of Northumberlande:
Of knightly prowès the sworde pomel and hylt,
The myghty lyoun[601] doutted[602] by se and lande!
O dolorous chaunce of fortuns fruward hande!110
What man remembring how shamfully he was slayne,
From bitter weepinge hymself kan restrayne?
O cruell Mars, thou dedly god of war!
O dolorous teusday, dedicate to thy name,
When thou shoke thy sworde so noble a man to mar!115
O grounde ungracious, unhappy be thy fame,
Whiche wert endyed with rede blode of the same!
Moste noble erle! O fowle mysuryd[603] grounde
Whereon he gat his fynal dedely wounde!
O Atropos, of the fatall systers thre,120
Goddes mooste cruell unto the lyf of man,
All merciles, in the ys no pitè!
O homycide, whiche sleest[604] all that thou kan,
So forcibly upon this erle thow ran,
That with thy sworde enharpid[605] of mortall drede,125
Thou kit[606] asonder his perfight[607] vitall threde!
My wordis unpullysht be nakide and playne,
Of aureat[608] poems they want ellumynynge;[609]
Bot by them to knoulege ye may attayne
Of this lordis dethe and of his murdrynge.130
Which whils he lyvyd had fuyson[610] of every thing,
Of knights, of squyers, chef lord of toure and toune,
Tyl fykkill[611] fortune began on hym to frowne.
Paregall[612] to dukis, with kings he myght compare,
Surmountinge in honor all erls he did excede,135
To all cuntreis aboute hym reporte[613] me I dare.
Lyke to Eneas benygne in worde and dede,
Valiaunt as Hector in every marciall nede,
Provydent, discrete, circumspect, and wyse,139
Tyll the chaunce ran agyne him of fortunes duble dyse.
What nedethe me for to extoll his fame
With my rude pen enkankerd all with rust?
Whos noble actis shew worsheply his name,
Transcendyng far myne homely muse, that must
Yet sumwhat wright supprisid with hartly lust,[614]145
Truly reportinge his right noble astate,
Immortally whiche is immaculate.
His noble blode never disteynyd was,
Trew to his prince for to defende his right,
Doublenes hatinge, fals maters to compas,150
Treytory[615] and treson he bannesht out of syght,
With trowth to medle was all his hole delyght,
As all his kuntrey kan testefy the same:
To slo suche a lord, alas, it was grete shame.
If the hole quere[616] of the musis nyne155
In me all onely wer sett and comprisyde,
Enbrethed with the blast of influence dyvyne,
As perfightly as could be thought or devysyd;
To me also allthouche it were promysyde
Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence,160
All were to litill for his magnyficence.
O yonge lyon, bot tender yet of age,[617]
Grow and encrese, remembre thyn astate,
God the assyst unto thyn herytage,
And geve the grace to be more fortunate,165
Agayne rebellyouns arme to make debate.
And, as the lyoune, whiche is of bestis kinge,
Unto thy subjectis be kurteis and benyngne.
I pray God sende the prosperous lyf and long,
Stabille thy mynde constant to be and fast,170
Right to mayntein, and to resist all wronge:
All flattringe faytors[618] abhor and from the cast,
Of foule detraction God kepe the from the blast:
Let double delinge in the have no place,
And be not light of credence in no case.175
Wythe hevy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd,
Eche man may sorrow in his inward thought,
Thys lords death, whose pere is hard to fynd
Allgyf[619] Englond and Fraunce were thorow saught.
Al kings, all princes, all dukes, well they ought180
Bothe temporall and spirituall for to complayne
This noble man, that crewelly was slayne.
More specially barons, and those knygtes bold,
And all other gentilmen with hym enterteynd
In fee, as menyall men of his housold,185
Whom he as lord worsheply manteynd:
To sorowfull weping they ought to be constreynd,
As oft as thei call to ther remembraunce,
Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce.
O perlese prince of hevyn emperyalle,190
That with one worde formed al thing of noughte;
Hevyn, hell, and erth obey unto thi kall;
Which to thy resemblance wondersly hast wrought
All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast boght,
With thy blode precious our finaunce[620] thou dyd pay,195
And us redemed, from the fendys pray;[621]
To the pray we, as prince incomperable,
As thou art of mercy and pite the well,
Thou bringe unto thy joye etermynable[622]
The sowle of this lorde from all daunger of hell,200
In endles blis with the to byde and dwell
In thy palace above the orient,
Where thou art lorde, and God omnipotent.
O quene of mercy, O lady full of grace,
Maiden moste pure, and goddis moder dere,205
To sorowfull harts chef comfort and solace,
Of all women O floure withouten pere,
Pray to thy son above the starris clere,
He to vouchesaf by thy mediatioun
To pardon thy servant, and bringe to salvacion.210
In joy triumphaunt the hevenly yerarchy,[623]
With all the hole sorte[624] of that glorious place,
His soule mot[625] receyve into ther company
Thorowe bounte of hym that formed all solace:
Well of pite, of mercy, and of grace,215
The father, the son, and the holy goste
In Trinitate one God of myghts moste.
†‡† I have placed the foregoing poem of Skelton's before the following extract from Hawes, not only because it was written first, but because I think Skelton is in general to be considered as the earlier poet; many of his poems being written long before Hawes's Graunde Amour.