Well was it for the Saxons then
The Normans rode unarmed,
Or they had scantly left that field
And homeward gone unharmed.
Lord Peverel viewed their bows and spears,
And marked their strong array,
And grimly smiled, and softly said,
"We'll right this wrong some day."
But e'er that day, for fearful crime,
The Peverel fled the land,
And lost his pride of place, and eke
His lordship and command.
For Ranulph Earl of Chester's death,
By him most foully wrought,
He fled fair England's realm for aye,
And other regions sought.
Where, so 'tis writ, a monk he turned,
And penance dreed so sore,
That all the holy brotherhood
Quailed at the pains he bore.
And yet the haughty Norman blood
No sign of dolour showed;
But bore all stoutly to the last,
And died beneath the rood.
So Heaven receive his soul at last,
He was a warrior brave;
And Pope and priest were joined in mass
His guilty soul to save.
For Holy Church and Kingly Crown
He was ever a champion true;
For chivalry and ladies' grace
Chiváler foiál et preux.
The Ashupton Garland,
OR A DAY IN THE WOODLANDS;
Showing how a "righte merrie companie" went forth to seek a diversion in the Woodlands, aud what befell them there.
To a pleasant Northern Tune.
Ashopton is a small village, but little known away from its own neighbourhood, in the vale of the river Ashop, in the chapelry of Derwent, in the High Peak. This very clever ballad was written on occasion of what was evidently an extremely happy pic-nic party, held there not many years ago. It is one of the best modern ballads I have seen.