PERCY'S RELIQUES.

RELIQUES OF
ANCIENT ENGLISH
POETRY
CONSISTING OF OLD HEROIC BALLADS, SONGS AND OTHER PIECES OF OUR EARLIER POETS TOGETHER WITH SOME FEW OF LATER DATE

BY
THOMAS PERCY, D.D.
BISHOP OF DROMORE

EDITED, WITH A GENERAL INTRODUCTION, ADDITIONAL PREFACES, NOTES, GLOSSARY, ETC.
BY
HENRY B. WHEATLEY, F.S.A.

IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. II

LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD.
RUSKIN HOUSE 40 MUSEUM STREET, W.C.1

Printed by the Riverside Press Limited, Edinburgh
Great Britain

[CONTENTS OF VOLUME THE SECOND]

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.

SERIES THE SECOND.

[BOOK 1.]

"Though some make slight of Libels, yet you may see by them how the wind sits: As, take a straw and throw it up into the air, you may see by that which way the wind is, which you shall not do by casting up a stone. More solid things do not shew the complexion of the times so well as Ballads and Libels."—Selden's Table-Talk.

I.
RICHARD OF ALMAIGNE,

"A ballad made by one of the adherents to Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, soon after the battle of Lewes, which was fought May 14, 1264,"

—affords a curious specimen of ancient satire, and shews that the liberty, assumed by the good people of this realm, of abusing their kings and princes at pleasure, is a privilege of very long standing.

To render this antique libel intelligible, the reader is to understand that just before the battle of Lewes, which proved so fatal to the interests of Henry III., the barons had offered his brother Richard, King of the Romans, 30,000l. to procure a peace upon such terms, as would have divested Henry of all his regal power, and therefore the treaty proved abortive. The consequences of that battle are well-known: the king, prince Edward his son, his brother Richard, and many of his friends, fell into the hands of their enemies: while two great barons of the king's party, John, Earl of Warren, and Hugh Bigot, the king's justiciary, had been glad to escape into France.

In the first stanza the aforesaid sum of thirty thousand pounds is alluded to, but with the usual misrepresentation of party malevolence, is asserted to have been the exorbitant demand of the king's brother.

With regard to the second stanza the reader is to note that Richard, along with the earldom of Cornwall, had the honours of Walingford and Eyre confirmed to him on his marriage with Sanchia, daughter of the Count of Provence, in 1243. Windsor Castle was the chief fortress belonging to the king, and had been garrisoned by foreigners: a circumstance which furnishes out the burthen of each stanza.

The third stanza alludes to a remarkable circumstance which happened on the day of the battle of Lewes. After the battle was lost, Richard, king of the Romans, took refuge in a windmill, which he barricaded, and maintained for some time against the barons, but in the evening was obliged to surrender. See a very full account of this in the Chronicle of Mailros, Oxon. 1684, p. 229.[1]

The fourth stanza is of obvious interpretation: Richard, who had been elected king of the Romans in 1256, and had afterwards gone over to take possession of his dignity, was in the year 1259 about to return into England, when the barons raised a popular clamour, that he was bringing with him foreigners to over-run the kingdom: upon which he was forced to dismiss almost all his followers, otherwise the barons would have opposed his landing.

In the fifth stanza the writer regrets the escape of the Earl of Warren, and in the sixth and seventh stanzas insinuates that if he and Sir Hugh Bigot once fell into the hands of their adversaries, they should never more return home; a circumstance which fixes the date of this ballad, for, in the year 1265, both these noblemen landed in South Wales, and the royal party soon after gained the ascendant. See Holinshed, Rapin, &c.

The following is copied from a very ancient MS. in the British Museum. (Hart. MSS. 2253, fol. 58 v°.) This MS. is judged, from the peculiarities of the writing, to be not later than the time of Richard II.; th being everywhere expressed by the character þ; the y is pointed after the Saxon manner, and the i hath an oblique stroke over it.

[The date of the MS. in which this ballad occurs is usually placed at an earlier period than that fixed upon by Percy. Mr. Thomas Wright, who prints it in his volume of Political Songs of England (Camden Society), with several other poems in French, Anglo-Norman, and Latin, on Simon de Montfort and the Barons' Wars, assigns it to the reign of Edward II. It will be seen from Percy's note to verse 44, that the last stanza was printed for the first time in the fourth edition of the Reliques. This is explained by the fact that these lines are written on a new folio of the MS., and must therefore have been overlooked by the original copyist.

This little poem is without rival as an early exhibition of English popular feeling in the vernacular; and it also stands alone as the first dated English historical ballad in existence. It was probably written during the first flush of enthusiasm after the memorable battle of Lewes, because, before a year had gone by, victory had passed to the other side, and at the battle of Evesham, fought on the 4th of August, 1265, Simon, his eldest son Henry, and a host of distinguished men, fell on the fatal field. As Drayton sang:

"Great Lester here expired with Henry his brave sonne,
When many a high exploit they in that day had done."

Prince Edward, who had passed his boyhood in Henry's company and was much attached to him, personally attended his funeral.

Richard, Earl of Cornwall, brother of Henry III., was elected King of the Romans on the 13th of January, 1256-7, at Frankfort, and is styled in Latin documents Rex Alemanniæ. In earlier times Richard had been a leader of malecontents, and "all from the child to the old man heaped frequent blessings upon him," but Montfort (then a courtier) gained him over to the King's side, and the insurgents were in consequence dispersed.

Richard was probably not so base a man as the writer of the ballad would wish us to believe, and a good action is recorded of him which was very ill returned. He interceded for the life of De Montfort's second son Simon, when that youth surrendered to the royal party at Northampton in 1266, and he was successful in his suit. In 1271, Simon and his brother Guy assassinated Henry, Richard's son, then in the suite of Philip of France, on his return from the Holy Land, while he was at mass in the church of St. Lawrence, at Viterbo. Richard himself died in this same year at Berkhampstead, and his estates descended to his son Edmond, Earl of Cornwall.

The uncertain manner in which biographic honours are apportioned is noteworthy, and a writer in the Quarterly Review (vol. cxix. p. 26) very justly points out a deficiency in English literature, when he writes that Simon de Montfort V., second Earl of Leicester, "the founder of the English House of Commons, has had no biographer."[2] Mr. Freeman, however, promises to do full honour to his memory in a forthcoming volume of his history.

This is not the place to give any detailed account of De Montfort, but a few words on the great leader may be allowable, more particularly as Percy's introduction does injustice to the anti-royalist party.

Simon de Montfort, fourth son of Simon de Montfort IV., fourth Comte de Montfort,[3] married Eleanor, Countess of Pembroke, the daughter of King John. She had made a vow of widowhood, and although her brother Henry III. gave her away when she was married, by one of the royal chaplains, in the king's private chapel at Westminster, 6th January, 1238, Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury, remonstrated strongly against the marriage. It is said that when the prelate left England, he stood on a hill which commanded a view of London, and, extending his hands towards the city, pronounced a parting blessing on his country, and a curse on the countess and the offspring of her unholy union.

Events so came about that the courtier and alien became the representative leader of Englishmen, with the famous war-cry of "England for the English." The battle of Lewes placed everything in the power of Simon de Montfort, but in his prosperity many of his followers fell away from him. The last scene of the great man's life is truly pathetic. He lay at Evesham awaiting the troops which his son was to bring from Kenilworth. He did not know, however, that the garrison of that town had been surprised by Prince Edward, who had escaped from confinement. The army that marched upon Evesham bore the banners of Simon's son, but they were flying in the van of an enemy. Simon's first words, when he saw the force approach, were those of soldierly pride: "By the arm of St. James they come on well; they learnt that order from me." Before he spoke again, however, he had realized his position, and he cried out: "May God have mercy on our souls, for our bodies are Prince Edward's." When he died liberty seemed to have been crushed out of existence, but it was not so, for his spirit lived though his body died, and the real victory was with him.

The fate of Simon de Montfort was a subject of general lamentation, but none of the songs upon it that have come down to us are in English. In an Anglo-Norman lament he is likened to Thomas of Canterbury, and described as "a precious flower." Priest and layman united in his praise, and he was revered as a saint and martyr. Prayers were said in his honour, and a hymn was sung at his shrine, beginning:

"Salve Symon Montis-Fortis
Totius flos militiæ
Duras pœnas passus mortis,
Protector gentis Angliæ."

Miracles were supposed to be worked by the power of his name,[4] and the character of these miracles may be judged by the following samples. The "old Countess of Gloucester" had a palfrey, which was asthmatic for two years, until one day in journeying from Tewkesbury to Evesham, it drank from the earl's well and was restored to perfect health. The next instance of miraculous healing is still more remarkable. A chick, which belonged to Agnes of Selgrave, fell into a pond and was drowned. Its mistress pulled it out and commended it to "blessed Simon," whereupon it got up and walked as usual.

Simon had six children by his wife Eleanor, viz., Henry, Simon, Guy, Amauri, Richard, and Eleanor. Henry was slain with his father, but the countess and the other children escaped out of England. Simon and Guy went to Tuscany; Amauri accompanied his mother to France, was taken prisoner in 1276, and kept in confinement by Edward for a time, but set at liberty in 1280; Richard went to Bigorre, but nothing certain is known of his after career, and it is said that he settled in England under the assumed name of Wellysborne, an assertion founded on two or three deeds of doubtful authenticity.[5] Eleanor was married to Llewellyn, Prince of Wales, in 1279, Edward I. paying all the expenses of the ceremony, which was performed with great pomp.]

Sitteth alle stille, ant herkneth to me;
The kyn[g] of Alemaigne,[6] bi mi leaute,[7]
Thritti thousent pound askede he
For te make the pees[8] in the countre,
Ant so he dude more. 5
Richard, thah[9] thou be ever trichard,[10]
Tricthen[11] shalt thou never more.

Richard of Alemaigne, whil that he wes kyng,
He spende al is tresour opon swyvyng,[12]
Haveth he nout of Walingford o ferlẏng,[13] 10
Let him habbe,[14] ase he brew, bale to dryng,[15]
Maugre[16] Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c.

The kyng of Alemaigne wende do[17] ful wel,
He saisede the mulne[18] for a castel, 15
With hare[19] sharpe swerdes he grounde the stel,[20]
He wende that the sayles were mangonel[21]
To helpe Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c.

The kyng of Alemaigne gederede ys host, 20
Makede him a castel of a mulne post,
Wende with is prude,[22] ant is muchele bost,[23]
Brohte[24] from Alemayne monẏ sori gost
To store Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c. 25

By God, that is aboven ous, he dude muche sẏnne,
That lette passen over see the erl of Warynne:
He hath robbed Engelond, the mores,[25] ant th[e] fenne,
The gold, ant the selver, and ẏ-boren henne,[26]
For love of Wyndesore. 30
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c.

Sire Simond de Mountfort hath suore bi ẏs chẏn,
Hevede[27] he nou here the erl of Warẏn,
Shulde he never more come to is ẏn,[28]
Ne with sheld, ne with spere, ne with other gẏn,[29] 35
To help of Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c.

Sire Simond de Montfort hath suore bi ys cop,[30]
Hevede he nou here Sire Hue de Bigot:[31]
Al[32] he shulde quite here twelfmoneth scot[33][34] 40
Shulde he never more with his fot pot[35]
To helpe Wyndesore.
Richard, thah thou be ever, &c.

Be the luef, be the loht,[36] sire Edward,[37]
Thou shalt ride sporeles o thy lyard[38] 45
Al the ryhte way to Dovere-ward,
Shalt thou never more breke foreward;
Ant that reweth sore
Edward, thou dudest as a shreward,[39]
Forsoke thyn emes lore[40] 50
Richard, &c.

⁂ This ballad will rise in its importance with the reader, when he finds that it is even believed to have occasioned a law in our statute book, viz. "Against slanderous reports or tales, to cause discord betwixt king and people." (Westm. Primer, c. 34, anno 3 Edw. I.) That it had this effect is the opinion of an eminent writer [the Hon. Daines Barrington], see Observations upon the Statutes, &c. 4to. 2nd edit. 1766, p. 71.

However, in the Harl. Collection may be found other satirical and defamatory rhymes of the same age, that might have their share in contributing to this first law against libels.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] [Robert of Gloucester wrote: "The king of Alemaigne was in a windmulle income.">[

[2] [A German has taken upon himself the duty of an Englishman, but Dr. Pauli's life of the hero has not yet been translated out of the German language.]

[3] [Montfort is a small town between Paris and Chartres.]

[4] [See Miracula Simonis de Montfort. MS. Cotton. Vespas. A. vi., annexed to Mr. Halliwell's edition of William de Rishanger's Chronicle of the Barons' Wars (Camden Society), 1840.]

[5] [This tradition is possibly connected with the one to be found in the Beggar's Daughter of Bethnal Green, where the Blind Beggar is said to be Henry de Montfort, who was taken off the battlefield, blind but not dead.]

[6] [Germany.]

[7] [loyalty.]

[8] [peace.]

[9] [though.]

[10] [treacherous.]

[11] [deceive (should be trichen).]

[12] [lechery.]

[13] [He has not of Wallingford one furlong. The MS. reads oferlyng, and Percy and Warton explain that word to mean superior, in opposition to underling, but it has not been met with elsewhere. Mr. Wright's reading of "one furlong" is much more in accordance with the context.]

[14] [have.]

[15] [evil to drink.]

[16] [in spite of.]

[17] [thought to do.]

[18] [he seized the mill.]

[19] [their.]

[20] [steel.]

[21]

[22] [pride.]

[23] [great boast.]

[24] [brought.]

[25] [moors.]

[26] [bore them away hence.]

[27] [had.]

[28] [house.]

[29] [engine.]

[30] [sworn by his head.]

[31] [The Hugh Bigod here mentioned, was the cousin of Hugh Bigod, who took part with the barons, and was slain at Lewes.]

[32] [although.]

[33] [tax or revenue.]

[34] [Ver. 40. Percy prints grante here (i.e. grant their), but the MS. reads qte here (i.e. quite or pay here).]

[35] [with his foot push on. Percy prints this sot pot, but it is undoubtedly fot in the MS.]

[36] [whether you like it or loathe it.]

[37] Ver. 44. This stanza was omitted in the former editions.

[38] [ride spurless on thy grey horse.]

[39] [male shrew.]

[40] [forsookest thy uncle's teaching. De Montfort was Prince Edward's uncle.]

II.
ON THE DEATH OF K. EDWARD THE FIRST.

We have here an early attempt at elegy. Edward I. died July 7, 1307, in the 35th year of his reign, and 69th of his age. This poem appears to have been composed soon after his death. According to the modes of thinking peculiar to those times, the writer dwells more upon his devotion than his skill in government, and pays less attention to the martial and political abilities of this great monarch, in which he had no equal, than to some little weaknesses of superstition, which he had in common with all his contemporaries. The king had in the decline of life vowed an expedition to the Holy Land, but finding his end approach, he dedicated the sum of £32,000 to the maintenance of a large body of knights (140 say historians, eighty says our poet), who were to carry his heart with them into Palestine. This dying command of the king was never performed. Our poet, with the honest prejudices of an Englishman, attributes this failure to the advice of the king of France, whose daughter Isabel, the young monarch, who succeeded, immediately married. But the truth is, Edward and his destructive favourite, Piers Gaveston, spent the money upon their pleasures. To do the greater honour to the memory of his heroe, our poet puts his eloge in the mouth of the Pope, with the same poetic licence as a more modern bard would have introduced Britannia or the Genius of Europe pouring forth his praises.

This antique elegy is extracted from the same MS. volume as the preceding article; is found with the same peculiarities of writing and orthography; and tho' written at near the distance of half a century contains little or no variation of idiom: whereas the next following poem by Chaucer, which was probably written not more than fifty or sixty years after this, exhibits almost a new language. This seems to countenance the opinion of some antiquaries, that this great poet made considerable innovations in his mother tongue, and introduced many terms, and new modes of speech from other languages.

[When Henry III. died, highly laudatory songs were sung in honour of the new king, but when Edward I. died the people were too grieved at their loss to sing the praise of his successor. The present song is printed by Mr. Thomas Wright in his Political Songs of England (Camden Society, 1839, p. 246), where he also prints a French version, and points out that the one is clearly translated from the other, adding that the French song was probably the original. In verse 27, Percy printed hue (i.e. she) with a capital H, under the impression that it was "the name of the person who was to preside over the business.">[

Alle, that beoth of huerte trewe,[41]
A stounde herkneth[42] to my song
Of duel,[43] that Deth hath diht[44] us newe,
That maketh me syke, ant sorewe among;
Of a knyht, that wes so strong, 5
Of wham God hath don ys wille;
Me-thuncheth[45] that deth hath don us wrong,
That he so sone shall ligge stille.[46]

Al Englond ahte[47] for te knowe
Of wham that song is, that y synge; 10
Of Edward kyng, that lith[48] so lowe,
Yent[49] al this world is nome con springe:[50]
Trewest mon of alle thinge,
Ant in werre war ant wys,[51]
For him we ahte oure honden wrynge,[52] 15
Of Christendome he ber the prys.

Byfore that oure kyng was ded,
He spek ase[53] mon that wes in care,
"Clerkes, knyhtes, barons, he sayde,
"Y charge ou by oure sware[54], 20
"That ye to Engelonde be trewe.
"Y deye, y ne may lyven na more;[55]
"Helpeth mi sone, ant crouneth him newe,
"For he is nest to buen y-core.[56]

"Ich biqueth myn herte aryht,[57] 25
"That hit be write at mi devys,[58]
"Over the see that hue be diht,[59]
"With fourscore knyhtes al of prys,
"In werre that buen war ant wys,
"Ayein the hethene for te fyhte, 30
"To wynne the croiz[60] that lowe lys,
"Myself y cholde yef[61] that y myhte."

Kyng of Fraunce, thou hevedest[62] 'sinne,'[63]
That thou the counsail woldest fonde,[64]
To latte[65] the wille of 'Edward kyng'[66] 35
To wende to the holy londe:
That oure kyng hede take on honde
All Engelond to yeme ant wysse,[67]
To wenden in to the holy londe
To wynnen us heve[n]riche[68] blisse. 40

The messager to the pope com,
And seyde that our kynge was ded:
Ys oune hond the lettre he nom,[69][70]
Ywis[71] his herte was full gret:[72]
The Pope him self the lettre redde, 45
Ant spec[73] a word of gret honour.
"Alas! he seid, is Edward ded?
"Of Christendome he ber the flour."

The Pope to is chaumbre wende,
For dol[74] ne mihte he speke na more; 50
Ant after cardinals he sende,
That muche couthen[75] of Cristes lore,
Bothe the lasse,[76] ant eke the more,
Bed hem bothe rede ant synge:
Gret deol me myhte se thore,[77][78] 55
Mony mon is honde wrynge.

The Pope of Peyters[79] stod at is masse
With ful gret solempnetè,
Ther me con[80] the soule blesse:[78]
"Kyng Edward honoured thou be: 60
"God lene[81] thi sone come after the,
"Bringe to ende that thou hast bygonne,
"The holy crois y-mad of tre,[82]
"So fain thou woldest hit hav y-wonne.

"Jerusalem, thou hast i-lore[83] 65
"The flour of al chivalrie
"Now kyng Edward liveth na more:
"Alas! that he yet shulde deye!
"He wolde ha rered up ful heyye[84]
"Oure banners, that bueth broht[85] to grounde;
"Wel longe we mowe clepe[86] and crie 71
"Er we a such kyng han y-founde."

Nou is Edward of Carnarvan
King of Engelond al aplyht,[87]
God lete him ner be worse man 75
Then his fader, ne lasse of myht,
To holden is pore men to ryht,
And understonde good counsail,
Al Engelond for to wysse ant dyht;[88]
Of gode knyhtes darh[89] him nout fail 80

Thah[90] mi tonge were mad of stel,
Ant min herte y-yote[91] of bras,
The godness myht y never telle,
That with kyng Edward was:
Kyng, as thou art cleped[92] conquerour, 85
In uch[93] bataille thou hadest prys;
God bringe thi soule to the honour,
That ever wes, ant ever ys.

⁂ Here follow in the original three lines more, which, as seemingly redundant, we chuse to throw to the bottom of the page, viz.:

"That lasteth ay withouten ende,
Bidde we God, ant oure Ledy to thilke blisse
Jesus us sende. Amen."

FOOTNOTES:

[41] [are of true heart.]

[42] [for a while hearken ye.]

[43] [grief.]

[44] [wrought.]

[45] [methinketh.]

[46] [lie still.]

[47] [ought.]

[48] [lieth.]

[49] [through.]

[50] [his name spread abroad.]

[51] [in war wary and wise.]

[52] [hands wring.]

[53] [as.]

[54] [I charge you by your oath.]

[55] [I die, I may not live more.]

[56] [next to be chosen.]

[57] [rightly.]

[58] [devise.]

[59] [she be sent (see Glossary).]

[60] [cross.]

[61] [I would if.]

[62] [hadst.]

[63] Ver. 33. sunne, MS.

[64] [try.]

[65] [hinder.]

[66] Ver. 35. kyng Edward, MS.

[67] [govern and teach.]

[68] [heavenly.]

[69] [took.]

[70] Ver. 43. ys is probably a contraction of in hys or yn his.

[71] [verily.]

[72] [grieved.]

[73] [spake.]

[74] [grief.]

[75] [knew.]

[76] [less.]

[77] [great grief might be seen there.]

[78] Ver. 55, 59. Me, i.e. Men, so in Robert of Gloucester, passim.

[79] [Peter's.]

[80] [there they began.]

[81] [give.]

[82] [cross made of wood.]

[83] [lost.]

[84] [high.]

[85] [are brought.]

[86] [very long we may call. Percy printed this incorrectly, Well longe.]

[87] [entirely.]

[88] [to govern and order.]

[89] [need.]

[90] [though.]

[91] [cast.]

[92] [called.]

[93] [each.]

III.
AN ORIGINAL BALLAD BY CHAUCER.

This little sonnet, which hath escaped all the editors of Chaucer's works, is now printed for the first time from an ancient MS. in the Pepysian Library, that contains many other poems of its venerable author. The versification is of that species, which the French call rondeau, very naturally Englished by our honest countrymen round O. Tho' so early adopted by them, our ancestors had not the honour of inventing it: Chaucer picked it up, along with other better things, among the neighbouring nations. A fondness for laborious trifles hath always prevailed in the dark ages of literature. The Greek poets have had their wings and axes: the great father of English poesy may therefore be pardoned one poor solitary rondeau.—Geofrey Chaucer died Oct. 25, 1400.

[These verses are printed in Morris's Aldine Edition of Chaucer (vol. vi. pp. 304-5), but there is no conclusive evidence that they are really by Chaucer. Mr. Furnivall writes (Trial Forewords, Chaucer Society, 1871, p. 32):—"With the Pity I should like much to class the Roundel ... as one of the poet's genuine works, though it is not assigned to him (so far as I know), by any MS. of authority. It exactly suits the Compleynte of Pite; there is nothing in it (so far as I can see), to make it not Chaucer's, and it is of the same form as his Roundel in the Parliament of Foules." Mr. Hales suggests to me that the poem may have been written by one of Chaucer's followers, and refers to verse 260 of the Knight's Tale:

"The freissche beauté sleeth me sodeynly,"

as having probably given the hint to the writer of this rondeau.]

I. 1.

Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly,
I may the beaute of them not sustene,
So wendeth it thorowout my herte kene.

2.

And but your words will helen hastely
My hertis wound, while that it is grene,
Youre two eyn will sle me sodenly.

3.

Upon my trouth I sey yow feithfully,
That ye ben of my liffe and deth the quene;
For with my deth the trouth shal be sene.
Youre two eyn, &c.

II. 1.

So hath youre beauty fro your herte chased
Pitee, that me n' availeth not to pleyn;[94]
For daunger halt[95] your mercy in his cheyne.

2.

Giltless my deth thus have ye purchased;
I sey yow soth,[96] me nedeth not to fayn:
So hath your beaute fro your herte chased.

3.

Alas, that nature hath in yow compassed
So grete beaute, that no man may atteyn
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyn.
So hath youre beaute, &c.

III. 1.

Syn I fro love escaped am so fat,
I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene;
Syn I am fre, I counte hym not a bene.[97]

2.

He may answere, and sey this and that,
I do no fors,[98] I speak ryght as I mene;
Syn I fro love escaped am so fat.

3.

Love hath my name i-strike out of his sclat,
And he is strike out of my bokes clene:
For ever mo 'ther'[99] is non other mene.
Syn I fro love escaped, &c.

FOOTNOTES:

[94] [complain.]

[95] [holdeth.]

[96] [I tell you truth.]

[97] [bean, a term of contempt.]

[98] [I do not care.]

[99] This, MS.

IV.
THE TURNAMENT OF TOTTENHAM:

Or, the Wooeing, Winning, and Wedding of Tibbe, the Reev's Daughter there.

It does honour to the good sense of this nation, that while all Europe was captivated with the bewitching charms of chivalry and romance, two of our writers in the rudest times could see thro' the false glare that surrounded them, and discover whatever was absurd in them both. Chaucer wrote his Rhyme of Sir Thopas in ridicule of the latter; and in the following poem we have a humorous burlesque of the former. Without pretending to decide, whether the institution of chivalry was upon the whole useful or pernicious in the rude ages, a question that has lately employed many good writers,[100] it evidently encouraged a vindictive spirit, and gave such force to the custom of duelling, that there is little hope of its being abolished. This, together with the fatal consequences which often attended the diversion of the turnament, was sufficient to render it obnoxious to the graver part of mankind. Accordingly the Church early denounced its censures against it, and the State was often prevailed on to attempt its suppression. But fashion and opinion are superior to authority: and the proclamations against tilting were as little regarded in those times, as the laws against duelling are in these. This did not escape the discernment of our poet, who easily perceived that inveterate opinions must be attacked by other weapons, besides proclamations and censures: he accordingly made use of the keen one of ridicule. With this view he has here introduced, with admirable humour, a parcel of clowns, imitating all the solemnities of the tourney. Here we have the regular challenge—the appointed day—the lady for the prize—the formal preparations—the display of armour—the scucheons and devices—the oaths taken on entering the lists—the various accidents of the encounter—the victor leading off the prize—and the magnificent feasting—with all the other solemn fopperies that usually attended the pompous turnament. And how acutely the sharpness of the author's humour must have been felt in those days, we may learn from what we can perceive of its keenness now, when time has so much blunted the edge of his ridicule.

The Turnament of Tottenham was first printed from an ancient MS. in 1631, 4to., by the Rev. William Bedwell, rector of Tottenham, who was one of the translators of the Bible. He tells us, it was written by Gilbert Pilkington, thought to have been some time parson of the same parish, and author of another piece, intitled, Passio Domini Jesu Christi. Bedwell, who was eminently skilled in the Oriental and other languages, appears to have been but little conversant with the ancient writers in his own, and he so little entered into the spirit of the poem he was publishing, that he contends for its being a serious narrative of a real event, and thinks it must have been written before the time of Edward III. because turnaments were prohibited in that reign. "I do verily beleeve," says he, "that this turnament was acted before this proclamation of K. Edward. For how durst any to attempt to do that, although in sport, which was so straightly forbidden, both by the civill and ecclesiasticall power? For although they fought not with lances, yet, as our authour sayth, 'It was no childrens game.' And what would have become of him, thinke you, which should have slayne another in this manner of jeasting? Would he not, trow you, have been hang'd for it in earnest? yea, and have bene buried like a dogge?" It is, however, well known that turnaments were in use down to the reign of Elizabeth.

In the first editions of this work, Bedwell's copy was reprinted here, with some few conjectural emendations; but as Bedwell seemed to have reduced the orthography at least, if not the phraseology, to the standard of his own time, it was with great pleasure that the Editor was informed of an ancient MS. copy preserved in the Museum (Harl. MSS. 5396), which appeared to have been transcribed in the reign of K. Hen. VI. about 1456. This obliging information the Editor owed to the friendship of Tho. Tyrwhitt, Esq., and he has chiefly followed that more authentic transcript, improved however by some readings from Bedwell's book.

[A writer in the Gentleman's Magazine (July, 1794, p. 613), calls attention to the fact that this ballad is "a burlesque upon the feudal custom of marrying an heiress to the knight who should vanquish all his opponents at a solemn assembly holden for the purpose."

Bedwell's MS. is now in the Cambridge public library (Ff. 5, 48), and Mr. Thomas Wright, who has printed it in a miniature volume, believes it to have been written as early as the reign of Edward II.

Bedwell was chaplain to Sir Henry Wotton in his embassy to Venice, where he is said to have assisted the celebrated Father Paul in the composition of his History of the Council of Trent. The following is a copy of the inscription on Bedwell's monument in the chancel of Tottenham church:—"Here lyes interred in this chancel Mr. William Bedwell, sometime vicar of this church and one of King James's translators of the Bible, and for the Easterne tongues as learned a man as most lived in these moderne times. Aged 70. Dyed May the 5th, 1632.">[

Of all thes kene conquerours to carpe[101] it were kynde;
Of fele feyytyng[102] folk ferly[103] we fynde;
The Turnament of Totenham have we in mynde;
It were harme sych hardynes were holden byhynde,
In story as we rede 5
Of Hawkyn, of Herry,
Of Tomkyn, of Terry,
Of them that were dughty[104]
And stalworth[105] in dede.

It befel in Totenham on a dere[106] day, 10
Ther was mad a shurtyng[107] be the hy-way:
Theder com al the men of the contray,
Of Hyssylton,[108] of Hy-gate, and of Hakenay,
And all the swete swynkers.[109]
Ther hopped Hawkyn, 15
Ther daunsed Dawkyn,
Ther trumped Tomkyn,
And all were trewe drynkers.

Tyl the day was gon and evyn-song past,
That thay schuld reckyn ther scot and ther counts cast;[110] 20
Perkyn the potter into the press past,
And sayd Randol the refe,[111] a doyter[112] thou hast,
Tyb the dere:
Therfor faine wyt wold I,[113]
Whych of all thys bachelery 25
Were best worthye
To wed hur to hys fere.[114]

Upstyrt thos gadelyngys[115] wyth ther lang staves,
And sayd, Randol the refe, lo! thys lad raves;
Boldely amang us thy doyter he craves; 30
We er rycher men then he, and mor gode haves
Of cattell and corn;
Then sayd Perkyn, To Tybbe I have hyyt[116]
That I schal be alway redy in my ryyt,
If that it schuld be thys day sevenyyt, 35
Or elles yet to morn.[117]

Then sayd Randolfe the refe, Ever be he waryd,[118]
That about thys carpyng lenger wold be taryd:
I wold not my doyter, that scho[119] were miscaryd,
But at hur most worschip I wold scho were maryd, 40
Therfor a Turnament schal begynne
Thys day sevenyyt,—
Wyth a flayl for to fyyt:
And 'he,' that is most of myght
Schal brouke hur wyth wynne.[120] 45

Whoso berys[121] hym best in the turnament,
Hym schal be granted the gre[122] be the comon assent,
For to wynne my doyter wyth 'dughtynesse' of dent,[123][124]
And 'coppell' my brode-henne 'that' was broyt out of Kent:[125]
And my dunnyd kowe 50
For no spens[126] wyl I spare,
For no cattell wyl I care,
He schal have my gray mare,
And my spottyd sowe.

Ther was many 'a' bold lad ther bodyes to bede:[127] 55
Than thay toke thayr leve, and homward they yede;[128]
And all the weke afterward graythed ther wede,[129][130]
Tyll it come to the day, that thay suld do ther dede.
They armed ham[131] in matts;
Thay set on ther nollys,[132] 60
For to kepe ther pollys,[133]
Gode blake bollys,[134]
For batryng of bats.[135]

Thay sowed tham in schepeskynnes, for thay schuld not brest:[136]
Ilk-on[137] toke a blak hat, insted of a crest: 65
'A basket or a panyer before on ther brest,'[138]
And a flayle in ther hande; for to fyght prest,[139]
Furth gon thay fare:[140]
Ther was kyd[141] mekyl fors,[142]
Who schuld best fend hys cors:[143] 70
He that had no gode hors,
He gat hym a mare.[144]

Sych another gadryng[145] have I not sene oft,
When all the gret company com rydand to the croft:[146]
Tyb on a gray mare was set up on loft 75
On a sek ful of fedyrs,[147] for scho schuld syt soft,[148]
And led 'till the gap.'[149]
For cryeng of the men
Forther wold not Tyb then,
Tyl scho had hur brode hen 80
Set in hur Lap.

A gay gyrdyl Tyb had on, borowed for the nonys,[150]
And a garland on hur hed ful of rounde bonys,[151][152]
And a broche on hur brest ful of 'sapphyre' stonys,[153]
Wyth the holy-rode tokenyng,[154] was wrotyn[155] for the nonys;[156]85
For no 'spendings' thay had spared.[157]
When joly Gyb saw hur thare,
He gyrd so hys gray mare,
'That scho lete a fowkin'[158] fare[159]
At the rereward. 90

I wow to God, quoth Herry, I schal not lefe behynde,
May I mete wyth Bernard on Bayard the blynde,
Ich man kepe hym out of my wynde,
For whatsoever that he be, before me I fynde,
I wot I schall hym greve. 95
Wele sayd, quoth Hawkyn.
And I wow, quoth Dawkyn,
May I mete wyth Tomkyn,
Hys flayle I schal hym reve.[160]

I make a vow, quoth Hud, Tyb, son schal thou se, 100
Whych of all thys bachelery 'granted' is the gre:[161]
I schal scomfet[162] thaym all, for the love of the;
In what place so I come thay schal have dout[163] of me,
Myn armes ar so clere:
I bere a reddyl,[164] and a rake, 105
Poudred wyth a brenand drake,[165]
And three cantells[166] of a cake
In ycha[167] cornere.

I vow to God, quoth Hawkyn, yf 'I' have the gowt,[168][169]
Al that I fynde in the felde 'thrustand' here aboute,[170] 110
Have I twyes or thryes redyn thurgh the route,
In ycha stede ther thay[171] me se, of me thay schal have doute,
When I begyn to play.
I make avowe that I ne schall,
But yf Tybbe wyl me call,[172] 115
Or I be thryes don fall,[173]
Ryyt onys[174] com away.

Then sayd Terry, and swore be hys crede;
Saw thou never yong boy forther hys body bede,[175]
For when thay fyyt fastest and most ar in drede, 120
I schall take Tyb by the hand, and hur away lede:
I am armed at the full;
In myn armys I bere wele
A doy trogh[176] and a pele,[177]
A sadyll wythout a panell, 125
Wyth a fles of woll.[178]

I make a vow, quoth Dudman, and swor be the stra,
Whyls me ys left my 'mare,' thou gets hurr not swa;[179][180]
For scho ys wele schapen, and liyt as the rae,[181]
Ther is no capul[182] in thys myle befor hur schal ga;[183] 130
Sche wul ne noyt begyle:
Sche wyl me bere, I dar say,
On a lang somerys day,
Fro Hyssylton to Hakenay,
Noyt other half myle. 135

I make a vow, quoth Perkyn, thow speks of cold rost,
I schal wyrch 'wyselyer'[184] withouten any bost:[185]
Five of the best capulys, that ar in thys ost,
I wot I schal thaym wynne, and bryng thaym to my cost,
And here I grant thaym Tybbe. 140
Wele boyes here ys he,
That wyl fyyt, and not fle,
For I am in my jolyte,
Wyth so forth, Gybbe.

When thay had ther vowes made, furth can thay hie, 145
Wyth flayles, and hornes, and trumpes mad of tre:[186]
Ther were all the bachelerys of that contre;
Thay were dyyt[187] in aray, as thaymselfes wold be:
Thayr baners were ful bryyt
Of an old rotten fell;[188] 150
The cheveron of a plow-mell;[189][190]
And the schadow of a bell,
Poudred wyth the mone lyyt.[191]

I wot yt 'was' no chylder[192] game, whan thay togedyr met,[193]
When icha freke[194] in the feld on hys feloy[195] bet, 155
And layd on styfly, for nothyng wold thay let,
And foght ferly[196] fast, tyll ther horses swet,
And few wordys spoken.
Ther were flayles al to slatred,[197]
Ther were scheldys al to flatred, 160
Bollys and dysches al to schatred,
And many hedys brokyn

There was clynkyng of cart-sadellys, & clatteryng of cannes;[198]
Of fele frekys[199] in the feld brokyn were their fannes;
Of sum were the hedys brokyn, of sum the braynpannes,[200] 165
And yll were thay besene,[201] or thay went thanns,
Wyth swyppyng of swepyls:[202]
Thay were so wery for-foght,[203]
Thay myyt not fyyt mare oloft,[204]
But creped about in the 'croft,'[205] 170
As thay were croked crepyls.

Perkyn was so wery, that he began to loute;[206]
Help, Hud, I am ded in thys ylk rowte:
An hors for forty pens, a gode and a stoute!
That I may lyytly come of my noye[207] oute, 175
For no cost wyl I spare.
He styrt up as a snayle,
And hent[208] a capul be the tayle,
And 'reft' Dawkin hys flayle,[209]
And wan there a mare. 180

Perkyn wan five, and Hud wan twa:
Glad and blythe thay ware, that they had done sa;
Thay wold have tham to Tyb, and present hur with tha:[210]
The Capulls were so wery, that thay myyt not ga,
But styl gon thay stond.[211] 185
Alas! quoth Hudde, my joye I lese;[212]
Mee had lever then a ston of chese,
That dere Tyb had al these,
And wyst it were my sond.[213][214]

Perkyn turnyd hym about in that ych thrang,[215] 190
Among thos wery boyes he wrest and he wrang;
He threw tham doun to the erth, and thrast tham amang,
When he saw Tyrry away wyth Tyb fang,[216]
And after hym ran;
Off his horse he hym drogh,[217] 195
And gaf hym of hys flayl inogh:
We te he! quoth Tyb, and lugh,
Ye er a dughty man.

'Thus' thay tugged, and rugged, tyl yt was nere nyyt:[218]
All the wyves of Tottenham came to se that syyt 200
Wyth wyspes, and kexis,[219] and ryschys[220] there lyyt,
To fetch hom ther husbandes, that were tham trouth plyyt;
And sum bróyt gret harwos,[221]
Ther husbandes hom to fetch,[222]
Sum on dores, and sum on hech,[223] 205
Sum on hyrdyllys, and som on crech.[224]
And sum on whele-barows.

Thay gaderyd Perkyn about, 'on' everych syde,[225]
And grant hym ther 'the gre,' the more was hys pryde:[226]
Tyb and he, wyth gret 'mirth,' homward con thay ryde,[227] 210
And were al nyyt togedyr, tyl the morn tyde;
And thay 'to church went:'[228]
So wele hys nedys he has sped,
That dere Tyb he 'hath' wed;[229]
The prayse-folk,[230] that hur led,[231] 215
Were of the Turnament.

To that ylk fest com many for the nones;
Some come hyphalte,[232] and some trippand 'thither' on the stonys;[233]
Sum a staf in hys hand, and sum two at onys;
Of sum where the hedes broken, of some the schulder bonys: 220
With sorrow come thay thedyr.
Wo was Hawkyn, wo was Herry,
Wo was Tomkyn, wo was Terry.
And so was all the bachelary,
When thay met togedyr. 225

[234]At that fest thay wer servyd with a ryche aray,
Every fyve & fyve had a cokenay;[235]
And so thay sat in jolyte al the lung day;
And at the last thay went to bed with ful gret deray:[236]
Mekyl myrth was them among; 230
In every corner of the hous
Was melody delycyous
For to here precyus
Of six menys song.[237]

FOOTNOTES:

[100] See (Mr. Hurd's) Letters on Chivalry, 8vo. 1762, Memoires de la Chevalerie, par M. de la Curne de Sainte-Palaye, 1759, 2 tom. 12mo. &c.

[101] [talk.]

[102] [fierce fighting.]

[103] [wonder.]

[104] [doughty.]

[105] [stout.]

[106] [dire or sad.]

[107] [sport.]

[108] [Islington.]

[109] [labourers.]

[110] Ver. 20. It is not very clear in the MS. whether it should be conts, or conters.

[111] [bailiff.]

[112] [daughter.]

[113] [know would I.]

[114] [to wed her for his mate.]

[115] [idle fellows.]

[116] [promised.]

[117] [it be to-morrow.]

[118] [accursed.]

[119] [she.]

[120] [shall have possession of her with joy.]

[121] [beareth.]

[122] [prize.]

[123] [blow.]

[124] Ver. 48. Dozty, MS.

[125] V. 49. coppeld. We still use the phrase "a copple-crowned hen."

[126] [expense.]

[127] [bid or offer.]

[128] [went.]

[129] [made ready their clothing.]

[130] V. 57. gayed, PC.

[131] [them.]

[132] [heads.]

[133] [polls.]

[134] [bowls.]

[135] [cudgels.]

[136] [burst.]

[137] [each one.]

[138] V. 66 is wanting in MS. and supplied from PC.

[139] [ready.]

[140] [they began to go forth.]

[141] [shown.]

[142] [much strength.]

[143] [best defend his body.]

[144] V. 72. He borrowed him, PC.

[145] [gathering.]

[146] [riding to the inclosure.]

[147] [sackfull of feathers.]

[148] Ver. 76. The MS. had once sedys, i.e. seeds, which appears to have been altered to fedyrs, or feathers. Bedwell's copy has Senvy, i.e. Mustard-seed.

[149] V. 77. and led hur to cap, MS.

[150] [nonce or occasion.]

[151] [Chaucer uses the expression "rowel boon" in his Tale of Sir Thopas, which is explained as round bone.]

[152] V. 83. Bedwell's PC. has "Ruel-Bones."

[153] V. 84. safer stones, MS.

[154] [token.]

[155] [wrought.]

[156] V. 85. wrotyn, i.e. wrought. PC. reads, written.

[157] V. 86. No catel (perhaps chatel) they had spared, MS.

[158] [crepitus ventris.]

[159] V. 89. Then ... faucon, MS.

[160] [deprive.]

[161] Ver. 101. grant, MS.

[162] [discomfit.]

[163] [fear.]

[164] [riddle or sieve.]

[165] [sprinkled over with firebrands.]

[166] [pieces.]

[167] [each.]

[168] [though I have the gout.]

[169] V. 109. yf he have, MS.

[170] V. 110. the MS. literally has th^r. sand, here.

[171] [in each place where they.]

[172] [unless Tib will call me.]

[173] [ere I be thrice made to]

[174] [even once.]

[175] [engage.]

[176] [dough trough.]

[177]

[178] [fleece of wool.]

[179] [so.]

[180] V. 128. merth, MS.

[181] [roe.]

[182] [horse.]

[183] [go.]

[184] [work more wisely.]

[185] Ver. 137. fwyselier, MS.

[186] V. 146. flailes and harnisse, PC.

[187] [dressed.]

[188] [hide.]

[189]

[190] Ver. 151. The chiefe, PC.

[191] [moonlight.]

[192] [child's.]

[193] V. 154. yt ys, MS.

[194] [man.]

[195] [fellow.]

[196] [wonderfully.]

[197] [splintered.]

[198] V. 163. The boyes were, MS.

[199] [many men.]

[200] [skulls.]

[201] [dressed.]

[202] [striking fast of the staffs of the flails.]

[203] [over-fought.]

[204] [on horseback.]

[205] V. 170. creped then about in the croft, MS.

[206] [stoop.]

[207] [hurt.]

[208] [laid hold of.]

[209] Ver. 179. razt, MS.

[210] [them.]

[211] V. 185. stand, MS.

[212] [lose.]

[213] [knew it were my sending.]

[214] V. 189. sand, MS.

[215] V. 190. the PC. reads, ilk throng.

[216] [make off.]

[217] [drew.]

[218] Ver. 199. Thys, MS.

[219] [elder sticks used for candles.]

[220] [rushes.]

[221] [harrows.]

[222] V. 204. hom for to fetch, MS.

[223] [half door of a cottage.]

[224] [crutch.]

[225] V. 208. about everych side, MS.

[226] V. 209. the gre, is wanting in MS.

[227] V. 210. mothe, MS.

[228] V. 212. and thay ifere assent, MS.

[229] V. 214. had wed, MS.

[230] [singing men and women.]

[231] V. 215. The cheefemen, PC.

[232] [lame in the hip.]

[233] V. 218. trippand on, MS.

[234] In the former impressions this concluding stanza was only given from Bedwell's printed edition, but it is here copied from the old MS. wherein it has been since found separated from the rest of the poem, by several pages of a money account, and other heterogeneous matter.

[235]

[236]

[237] Six-men's song, i.e. a song for six voices. So Shakespeare uses three-man song-men, in his Winter's Tale, act iii. sc. 3, to denote men that could sing catches composed for three voices. Of this sort are Weelkes's madrigals mentioned below, book ii. song 9. So again Shakespeare has three-men beetle; i.e. a beetle or rammer worked by three men, 2 Hen. IV. act i. sc. 3.

V.
FOR THE VICTORY AT AGINCOURT.

That our plain and martial ancestors could wield their swords much better than their pens, will appear from the following homely rhymes, which were drawn up by some poet laureat of those days to celebrate the immortal victory gained at Agincourt, Oct. 25, 1415. This song or hymn is given meerly as a curiosity, and is printed from a MS. copy in the Pepys collection, vol. i. folio. It is there accompanied with the musical notes, which are copied on the opposite page.

[When the news of this great victory arrived in England, the people "were literally mad with joy and triumph," and although Henry V. on his entrance into London after the battle, commanded that no "ditties should be made and sung by minstrels or others" in praise of Agincourt, "for that he would whollie have the praise and thankes altogether given to God," several songs have come down to us on this soul-inspiring theme. Besides the present ballad there are,

1. Agincourte Battell, beginning—

"A councell brave our King did hold,"

in the Percy Folio MS. (see Hales and Furnivall's edition, vol. ii. p. 166).

2. Agincourt, or the English Bowman's Glory, a spirited ballad quoted in Heywood's King Edward IV., the first stanza of which is as follows—

"Agincourt, Agincourt!
Know ye not Agincourt?
Where English slue and hurt
All their French foemen?
With our pikes and bills brown,
How the French were beat downe,
Shot by our bowman."

3. King Henry V., his Conquest of France, commencing—

"As our King lay musing on his bed."

4. The Cambro-Briton's Ballad of Agincourt, by Michael Drayton.

Besides these ballads there is a poem attributed to Lydgate, and Drayton's Battaile of Agincourt. For further information on the subject the reader should see Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas's History of the Battle, and Hales and Furnivall's edition of the Percy Folio MS. (vol. ii. pp. 158, 595).

Dr. Rimbault describes the music attached to the present ballad "as the first English regular composition of which we have any remains.">[

Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria!

Owre kynge went forth to Normandy,
With grace and myyt of chivalry;
The God for hym wrouyt marvelously,
Wherefore Englonde may calle, and cry 5
Deo gratias:
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria.

He sette a sege, the sothe for to say,
To Harflue[238] toune with ryal aray;
That toune he wan, and made a fray, 10
That Fraunce shall rywe tyl domes day.
Deo gratias, &c.

Then went owre kynge, with alle his oste,
Thorowe Fraunce for all the Frenshe boste;
He spared 'for' drede of leste, ne most, 15
Tyl he come to Agincourt coste.[239]
Deo gratias, &c.

Than for sothe that knyyt comely
In Agincourt feld he fauyt manly,
Thorow grace of God most myyty 20
He had bothe the felde, and the victory.
Deo gratias, &c.

Ther dukys, and erlys, lorde and barone,
Were take, and slayne, and that wel sone,
And some were ledde in to Lundone 25
With joye, and merthe, and grete renone.
Deo gratias, &c.

Now gracious God he save owre kynge,
His peple, and all his wel wyllynge,
Gef him gode lyfe, and gode endynge, 30
That we with merth mowe savely synge
Deo gratias:
Deo gratias Anglia redde pro victoria.

FOOTNOTES:

[238] [Harfleur.]

[239] [region.]

VI.
THE NOT-BROWNE MAYD.

The sentimental beauties of this ancient ballad have always recommended it to readers of taste, notwithstanding the rust of antiquity which obscures the style and expression. Indeed if it had no other merit than the having afforded the groundwork to Prior's Henry and Emma, this ought to preserve it from oblivion. That we are able to give it in so correct a manner, is owing to the great care and exactness of the accurate editor of the Prolusions, 8vo. 1760; who has formed the text from two copies found in two different editions of Arnolde's Chronicle, a book supposed to be first printed about 1521. From the copy in the Prolusions the following is printed, with a few additional improvements gathered from another edition of Arnolde's book[240] preserved in the public library at Cambridge. All the various readings of this copy will be found here, either received into the text, or noted in the margin. The references to the Prolusions will shew where they occur. In our ancient folio MS.[241] described in the preface, is a very corrupt and defective copy of this ballad, which yet afforded a great improvement in one passage. See v. 310.

It has been a much easier task to settle the text of this poem, than to ascertain its date. The ballad of the Nutbrowne Mayd was first revived in The Muses Mercury for June, 1707, 4to. being prefaced with a little Essay on the old English Poets and Poetry; in which this poem is concluded to be "near 300 years old," upon reasons which, though they appear inconclusive to us now, were sufficient to determine Prior, who there first met with it. However, this opinion had the approbation of the learned Wanley, an excellent judge of ancient books. For that whatever related to the reprinting of this old piece was referred to Wanley, appears from two letters of Prior's preserved in the British Museum (Harl. MSS. No. 3777). The editor of the Prolusions thinks it cannot be older than the year 1500, because, in Sir Thomas More's tale of The Serjeant, &c., which was written about that time, there appears a sameness of rhythmus and orthography, and a very near affinity of words and phrases with those of this ballad. But this reasoning is not conclusive, for if Sir Thomas More made this ballad his model, as is very likely, that will account for the sameness of measure, and in some respect for that of words and phrases, even tho' this had been written long before; and as for the orthography, it is well known that the old printers reduced that of most books to the standard of their own times. Indeed it is hardly probable that an antiquary like Arnolde would have inserted it among his historical collections, if it had been then a modern piece; at least he would have been apt to have named its author. But to shew how little can be inferred from a resemblance of rhythmus or style, the Editor of these volumes has in his ancient folio MS. a poem on the victory of Flodden-field, written in the same numbers, with the same alliterations, and in orthography, phraseology, and style nearly resembling the Visions of Pierce Plowman, which are yet known to have been composed above 160 years before that battle. As this poem is a great curiosity, we shall give a few of the introductory lines:

"Grant gracious God, grant me this time,
That I may say, or I cease, thy selven to please;
And Mary his mother, that maketh all this world;
And all the seemlie saints, that sitten in heaven;
I will carpe of kings, that conquered full wide,
That dwelled in this land, that was alyes noble;
Henry the seaventh, that soveraigne lord," &c.[242]

With regard to the date of the following ballad, we have taken a middle course, neither placed it so high as Wanley and Prior, nor quite so low as the editor of the Prolusions; we should have followed the latter in dividing every other line into two, but that the whole would then have taken up more room than could be allowed it in this volume.

[The edition of Richard Arnold's Chronicle (1521) mentioned above, is the second; and the first, which is undated, was printed at Antwerp in 1502. This edition is described in Brydges' Censurä Literaria (vol. vi. p. 114), where the Nut-Brown Maid is printed. A copy from the Balliol MS. 354, of about the same date, is printed in Percy's folio manuscript, ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol iii. p. 174. Warton will not allow that the poem was written before the beginning of the sixteenth century, but as Percy says, it is highly improbable that an antiquary would insert a modern piece in his miscellany of curiosities.

Percy has inserted the following note in his folio MS.: "From the concluding words of this last stanza—

['but men wold that men shold
be kind to them eche one,
yett I had rather, god to obay
and serve but him alone']

it should seem that the author was a woman."

Mr. Skeat remarks that the part of the fourth stanza before the woman speaks, and the first two verses, are still more conclusive on this point. On the other side it is noticeable that the author speaks as a man at line 353:

"... that we may
To them be comfortable;"

but this may only be a blind.

Few readers will agree with Percy's estimate of Prior's poem, and Henry and Emma is now only remembered because of its connection with the Nut-Brown Maid.

Warton justly points out how the simplicity of the original is decorated, dilated, and consequently spoilt by Prior, who crowds his verses with zephyrs, Chloe, Mars, the Cyprian deity, &c. Such lay figures as these are quite out of keeping with the realities of this most exquisite poem.

One instance of Prior's inability to appreciate the beauties of his original will be sufficient. The tender allusion at v. 232-3:

"O my swete mother, before all other
For you I have most drede,"

followed by the reflection:

"But nowe adue! I must ensue
Where fortune doth me lede,"

is entirely omitted by the later poet, who changes

"To shorte my here, a bowe to bere,
To shote in tyme of nede,"

into

"Wanting the scissors, with these hands I'll tear
(If that obstructs my flight) this load of hair."

The Nut-Brown Maid has always been highly popular (a proof of the good taste of the people), and in consequence it figures in Captain Cox's collection described by Laneham. Another proof of its popularity is the existence of various parodies, one of which is of very early date.

It was a common practice in the sixteenth century to turn ordinary ballads into religious songs. The New Nutbrowne Maid, printed by John Skot about 1520, reprinted by George Isted in 1820 for the Roxburghe Club, and again reprinted by Dr. Rimbault for the Percy Society (vol. iv.), 1842, is an instance of this practice. It is a close parody of the original, and purports to be "upon the passion of Cryste." The he and she are changed to Maria the mayde and Jesus.

Another version is given in the Percy folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 334), which is entitled A Jigge.

The incidents are vulgarized, "but," Mr. Hales observes, "the beauty of the original is too great to be altogether destroyed, however rude the hands that handle it. Something of the charm of the Nut Brown Maid lingers around this Jig.">[

Be it ryght, or wrong, these men among[243]
On women do complayne:[244][245]
Affyrmynge this, how that it is
A labour spent in vayne,
To love them wele; for never a dele[246] 5
They love a man agayne:
For late a man do what he can,
Theyr favour to attayne,
Yet, yf a newe do them persue,
Theyr first true lover than 10
Laboureth for nought; for from her[247] thought[248]
He is a banyshed man.

I say nat nay, but that all day
It is bothe writ and sayd
That womans faith is, as who sayth, 15
All utterly decayd;
But, neverthelesse, ryght good wytnèsse
In this case might be layd,
That they love true, and continùe:
Recorde the Not-browne Mayde: 20
Which, when her love came, her to prove,
To her to make his mone,
Wolde nat depart; for in her hart
She loved but hym alone.

Than betwaine us late us dyscus 25
What was all the manere
Betwayne them two: we wyll also
Tell all the payne, and fere,[249]
That she was in. Nowe I begyn,
So that ye me answère; 30
Wherfore, all ye, that present be
I pray you, gyve an ere.
"I am the knyght; I come by nyght,
As secret as I can;
Sayinge, Alas! thus standeth the case, 35
I am a banyshed man."

And I your wyll for to fulfyll
In this wyll nat refuse;
Trustying to shewe, in wordès fewe,
That men have an yll use 40
(To theyr own shame) women to blame,
And causelesse them accuse:
Therfore to you I answere nowe,
All women to excuse,—

She.[250]

Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere? 45
I pray you, tell anone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

It standeth so; a dede is do[251]
Wherof grete harme shall growe: 50
My destiny is for to dy
A shamefull deth, I trowe;
Or elles to fle: the one must be.
None other way I knowe,
But to withdrawe as an outlawe, 55
And take me to my bowe.
Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true!
None other rede I can:[252]
For I must to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man. 60

She.

O lord, what is thys worldys blysse,
That changeth as the mone!
My somers day in lusty may[253]
Is derked[254] before the none.
I here you say, farewell: Nay, nay 65
We dèpart[255] nat so sone.
Why say ye so? wheder[256] wyll ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?
All my welfàre to sorrowe and care
Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone; 70
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

I can beleve, it shall you greve,
And somewhat you dystrayne;[257]
But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde 75
Within a day or twayne
Shall sone aslake;[258] and ye shall take
Comfort to you agayne.
Why sholde ye ought? for, to make thought,
Your labour were in vayne. 80
And thus I do; and pray you to,
As hartely,[259] as I can;
For I must to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

Now, syth that ye have shewed to me 85
The secret of your mynde,
I shall be playne to you agayne,
Lyke as ye shall me fynde.
Syth it is so, that ye wyll go,
I wolle not leve[260] behynde; 90
Shall never be sayd, the Not-browne Mayd[261]
Was to her love unkynde:
Make you redy, for so am I,
Allthough it were anone;[262]
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 95
I love but you alone.

He.

Yet I you rede[263] to take good hede
What men wyll thynke, and say:
Of yonge, and olde it shall be tolde,
That ye be gone away, 100
Your wanton wyll for to fulfill,
In grene wode you to play;
And that ye myght from your delyght
No lenger make delay.
Rather than ye sholde thus for me 105
Be called an yll womàn,
Yet wolde I to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

Though it be songe of old and yonge,
That I sholde be to blame, 110
Theyrs be the charge, that speke so large
In hurtynge of my name:
For I wyll prove, that faythfulle love
It is devoyd of shame;
In your dystresse, and hevynesse, 115
To part with you, the same:
And sure all tho,[264] that do not so,[265]
True lovers are they none;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone. 120

He.

I counceyle you, remember howe,
It is no maydens lawe,
Nothynge to dout, but to renne[266] out
To wode with an outlàwe:
For ye must there in your hand bere 125
A bowe, redy to drawe;
And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve,
Ever in drede and awe;
Wherby to you grete harme myght growe:
Yet had I lever than,[267] 130
That I had to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

I thinke nat nay, but as ye say,[268]
It is no maydens lore:
But love may make me for your sake, 135
As I have sayd before
To come on fote, to hunt, and shote
To gete us mete in store;[269]
For so that I your company
May have, I aske no more: 140
From which to part, it maketh my hart
As colde as ony stone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

For an outlawe this is the lawe, 145
That men hym take and bynde;
Without pytè, hanged to be,
And waver with the wynde.
If I had nede, (as God forbede!)
What rescous[270] coude ye fynde?[271] 150
Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe
For fere wolde drawe behynde:
And no mervayle; for lytell avayle
Were in your counceyle than:
Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go, 155
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

Ryght wele knowe ye, that women be
But feble for to fyght;
No womanhede it is indede
To be bolde as a knyght: 160
Yet, in such fere yf that ye were
With enemyes day or nyght,[272]
I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande,
To greve them as I myght,[273]
And you to save; as women have 165
From deth 'men' many one:
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye coude nat sustayne 170
The thornie wayes, the depe valèies,
The snowe, the frost, the rayne,[274]
The colde, the hete: for dry, or wete,
We must lodge on the playne;[275]
And, us above, none other rofe 175
But a brake bush, or twayne:
Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve;
And ye wolde gladly than
That I had to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man. 180

She.

Syth I have here bene partynère
With you of joy and blysse,
I must also parte of your wo
Endure, as reson is:
Yet am I sure of one plesùre; 185
And, shortely, it is this:
That, where ye be, me semeth, pardè,
I coude nat fare amysse.
Without more speche, I you beseche
That we were sone agone;[276] 190
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

If ye go thyder, ye must consyder,
Whan ye have lust to dyne,
There shall no mete be for you gete, 195
Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wyne.[277]
No shetés clene, to lye betwene,
Made of threde and twyne;
None other house, but leves and bowes,
To cover your hed and myne, 200
O myne harte swete, this evyll dyéte[278]
Sholde make you pale and wan;
Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

Amonge the wylde dere, such an archère, 205
As men say that ye be,
Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle,[279]
Where is so grete plentè:
And water clere of the ryvére
Shall be full swete to me; 210
With which in hele[280] I shall ryght wele
Endure, as ye shall see;
And, or we go, a bedde or two
I can provyde anone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 215
I love but you alone.

He.

Lo yet, before, ye must do more,
Yf ye wyll go with me:
As cut your here up by your ere,[281][282]
Your kyrtel by the kne;[283] 220
With bowe in hande, for to withstande
Your enemyes, yf nede be:
And this same nyght before day-lyght,[284]
To wode-warde wyll I fle.
Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 225
Do it shortely as ye can;
Els wyll I to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

I shall as nowe do more for you
Than longeth to womanhede; 230
To shorte my here,[285] a bowe to bere,
To shote in tyme of nede.
O my swete mother, before all other
For you I have most drede:
But nowe, adue! I must ensue,[286] 235
Where fortune doth me lede.
All this make ye: Now let us fle;
The day cometh fast upon;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone. 240

He.

Nay, nay, nat so; ye shall nat go,
And I shall tell ye why,—
Your appetyght is to be lyght
Of love, I wele espy:
For, lyke as ye have sayed to me, 245
In lyke wyse hardely
Ye wolde answére whosoever it were,
In way of company.
It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde;
And so is a womàn. 250
Wherfore I to the wode wyll go,[287]
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

Yf ye take hede, it is no nede[288]
Such wordes to say by me;
For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, 255
Or[289] I you loved, pardè:[290]
And though that I of auncestry
A barons daughter be,
Yet have you proved howe I you loved
A squyer of lowe degrè; 260
And ever shall, whatso befall;
To dy therfore[291] anone;[292]
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

A barons chylde to be begylde! 265
It were a cursed dede;
To be felàwe with an outlawe!
Almighty God forbede!
Yet beter were, the pore squyère
Alone to forest yede,[293] 270
Than ye sholde say another day,
That, by my cursed dede,
Ye were betray'd: Wherfore, good mayd,
The best rede[294] that I can,
Is, that I to the grene wode go, 275
Alone, a banyshed man.

She.

Whatever befall, I never shall
Of this thyng you upbrayd:[295]
But yf ye go, and leve me so,
Than have ye me betrayd. 280
Remember you wele, howe that ye dele;
For, yf ye, as ye sayd,[296]
Be so unkynde, to leve behynde,[297]
Your love, the Not-browne Mayd,
Trust me truly, that I shall dy 285
Sone after ye be gone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent;
For in the forest nowe 290
I have purvayed[298] me of a mayd,
Whom I love more than you;
Another fayrère, than ever ye were,
I dare it wele avowe;
And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe 295
With other, as I trowe:
It were myne ese, to lyve in pese;
So wyll I, yf I can;
Wherfore I to the wode wyll go,
Alone, a banyshed man. 300

She.

Though in the wode I undyrstode
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remove my thought,
But that I wyll be your:
And she shall fynde me soft, and kynde, 305
And courteys every hour;
Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll
Commaunde me to my power:
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,
'Of them I wolde be one;'[299] 310
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

He.

Myne owne dere love, I se the prove
That ye be kynde, and true;
Of mayde, and wyfe, in all my lyfe,[300] 315
The best that ever I knewe.
Be mery and glad, be no more sad,
The case is chaunged newe;
For it were ruthe, that, for your truthe,
Ye sholde have cause to rewe. 320
Be nat dismayed; whatsoever I sayd
To you, whan I began;
I wyll nat to the grene wode go,
I am no banyshed man.

She.

These tydings be more gladd to me,[301] 325
Than to be made a quene,
Yf I were sure they sholde endure:
But it is often sene,
Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke
The wordés on the splene.[302] 330
Ye shape some wyle me to begyle,
And stele from me, I wene:
Than, were the case worse than it was,
And I more wo-begone:
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 335
I love but you alone.

He.

Ye shall nat nede further to drede;
I wyll nat dysparàge
You, (God defend)! syth ye descend
Of so grete a lynàge.[303] 340
Nowe undyrstande; to Westmarlande,
Which is myne herytage,
I wyll you brynge; and with a rynge,
By way of maryage
I wyll you take, and lady make, 345
As shortely as I can:
Thus have you won an erlys son,[304]
And not a banyshed man.[305]

Author.

Here may ye se, that women be
In love, meke, kynde, and stable; 350
Late[306] never man reprove them than,
Or call them variable;[307]
But, rather, pray God, that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometyme proveth such, as he loveth,[308] 355
Yf they be charytable.
For syth men wolde that women sholde[309]
Be meke to them each one;
Moche more ought they to God obey,
And serve but hym alone. 360

FOOTNOTES:

[240] This (which my friend Mr. Farmer supposes to be the first edition) is in folio; the folios are numbered at the bottom of the leaf, the song begins at folio 75. The poem has since been collated with a very fine copy that was in the collection of the late James West, Esq.; the readings extracted thence are denoted thus, "Mr. W."

[241] [Hales and Furnivall's edition, vol. iii. p. 174.]

[242] [Folio Manuscript, ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 212.]

[243] [at intervals, sometimes.]

[244] My friend Mr. Farmer proposes to read the first lines thus as a Latinism:

"Be it right or wrong, 'tis men among,
On women to complayne."

[245] [Ver. 2. Woman, Prolusions and Mr. West's copy.]

[246] [not a bit.]

[247] [their.]

[248] [V. 11. her, i.e. their.]

[249] [pain and fear. In the Balliol MS. 354, the reading is in-fere (or in company with her lover).]

[250] [Percy printed the "She" at the beginning of this stanza.]

[251] [done.]

[252] [advice I know.]

[253] Ver. 63. The somers, Prol.

[254] [darkened.]

[255] [separate.]

[256] [whither.]

[257] [afflict.]

[258] [abate.]

[259] [earnestly.]

[260] [remain.]

[261] Ver. 91. Shall it never, Prol. and Mr. W.

[262] V. 94. Althought, Mr. W.

[263] [advise.]

[264] [those.]

[265] Ver. 117. To shewe all, Prol. and Mr. W.

[266] [run.]

[267] [rather then.]

[268] V. 133. I say nat, Prol. and Mr. W.

[269] Ver. 138. and store, Camb. copy.

[270] [rescue.]

[271] V. 150. succours, Prol. and Mr. W.

[272] V. 162. and night, Camb. copy.

[273] V. 164. to helpe ye with my myght, Prol. and Mr. W.

[274] Ver. 172. frost and rayne, Mr. W.

[275] V. 174. Ye must, Prol.

[276] V. 190. shortley gone, Prol. and Mr. W.

[277] Ver. 196. Neyther bere, Prol. and Mr. W.

[278] V. 201. Lo myn, Mr. W.

[279] V. 207. May ye nat fayle, Prol. Ib. May nat fayle, Mr. W.

[280] [health.]

[281] [hair up by your ear.]

[282] V. 219. above your ere, Prol.

[283] V. 220. above the kne, Prol. and Mr. W.

[284] Ver. 223. the same, Prol. and Mr. W.

[285] [shorten my hair.]

[286] [follow.]

[287] Ver. 251. For I must to the grene wode go, Prol. and Mr. W.

[288] V. 253. yet is, Camb. copy. Perhaps for yt is.

[289] [ere.]

[290] [par Dieu.]

[291] i.e. for this cause; tho' I were to die for having loved you.

[292] V. 262. dy with him, Editor's MS.

[293] [went.]

[294] [advice.]

[295] Ver. 278. outbrayd, Prol. and Mr. W.

[296] V. 282. ye be as, Prol. and Mr. W.

[297] V. 283. Ye were unkynde to leve me behynde, Prol. and Mr. W.

[298] [provided.]

[299] Ver. 310. So the Editor's MS. All the printed copies read, Yet wold I be that one.

[300] V. 315. of all, Prol. and Mr. W.

[301] V. 325. gladder, Prol. and Mr. W.

[302] [in haste.]

[303] Ver. 340. grete lynyage, Prol. and Mr. W.

[304] V. 347. Then have, Prol.

[305] V. 348. And no banyshed, Prol. and Mr. W.

[306] [let.]

[307] V. 352. This line wanting in Prol. and Mr. W.

[308] V. 355. proved—loved, Prol. and Mr. W. Ib. as loveth, Camb.

[309] V. 357. Forsoth, Prol. and Mr. W.

VII.
A BALET BY THE EARL RIVERS.

The amiable light in which the character of Anthony Widville, the gallant Earl Rivers, has been placed by the elegant author of the Catal. of Noble Writers [Horace Walpole], interests us in whatever fell from his pen. It is presumed, therefore, that the insertion of this little sonnet will be pardoned, tho' it should not be found to have much poetical merit. It is the only original poem known of that nobleman's; his more voluminous works being only translations. And if we consider that it was written during his cruel confinement in Pomfret castle a short time before his execution in 1483, it gives us a fine picture of the composure and steadiness with which this stout earl beheld his approaching fate.

This ballad we owe to Rouse, a contemporary historian, who seems to have copied it from the earl's own handwriting. "In tempore," says this writer, "incarcerationis apud Pontem-fractum edidit unum balet in anglicis, ut mihi monstratum est, quod subsequitur sub his verbis: Sum what musyng, &c." Rossi, Hist. 8vo. 2 ed. p. 213. In Rouse the second stanza, &c. is imperfect, but the defects are here supplied from a more perfect copy printed in Ancient Songs, from the time of King Henry III. to the Revolution, p. 87 [by Joseph Ritson].

This little piece, which perhaps ought rather to have been printed in stanzas of eight short lines, is written in imitation of a poem of Chaucer's, that will be found in Urry's ed. 1721, p. 555, beginning thus:

"Alone walkyng, In thought plainyng,
And sore sighying, All desolate.
My remembrying Of my livyng
My death wishyng Bothe erly and late.
Infortunate Is so my fate
That wote ye what, Out of mesure
My life I hate; Thus desperate
In such pore estate, Doe I endure," &c.[310]

[This gallant and learned nobleman (brother of Edward IV.'s queen), who was murdered in the forty-first year of his age, figures as a character in Shakspere's Richard III., and as a ghost appears to warn the tyrant on the eve of the battle of Bosworth:

"Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,
Rivers that died at Pomfret! despair and die.">[

Sumwhat musyng, And more mornyng,
In remembring The unstydfastnes;
This world being Of such whelyng,
Me contrarieng, What may I gesse?

I fere dowtles, Remediles, 5
Is now to sese My wofull chaunce.
[For unkyndness, Withouten less,
And no redress, Me doth avaunce,

With displesaunce, To my grevaunce,
And no suraunce Of remedy.] 10
Lo in this traunce, Now in substaunce,
Such is my dawnce, Wyllyng to dye.

Me thynkys truly, Bowndyn am I,
And that gretly, To be content:
Seyng playnly, Fortune doth wry[311][312] 15
All contrary From myn entent.

My lyff was lent Me to on intent,
Hytt is ny[313] spent. Welcome fortune!
But I ne went Thus to be shent,[314][315]
But sho[316] hit ment; Such is hur won.[317] 20

FOOTNOTES:

[310] [See Aldine edition of Chaucer's Poetical Works, ed. Morris, vol. vi. p. 305. We ought, perhaps, to read "attributed to Chaucer.">[

[311] [turn aside.]

[312] Ver. 15. That fortune, Rossi, Hist.

[313] [it is near.]

[314] [abashed.]

[315] V. 19. went, i.e. weened.

[316] [she.]

[317] [wont or custom.]

VIII.
CUPID'S ASSAULT: BY LORD VAUX.

The reader will think that infant poetry grew apace between the times of Rivers and Vaux, tho' nearly contemporaries; if the following song is the composition of that Sir Nicholas (afterwards Lord) Vaux, who was the shining ornament of the court of Henry VII., and died in the year 1523 [1524, see below].

And yet to this lord it is attributed by Puttenham in his Art of Eng. Poesie, 1589, 4to., a writer commonly well informed. Take the passage at large: "In this figure [Counterfait Action] the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a noble gentleman and much delighted in vulgar making, and a man otherwise of no great learning, but having herein a marvelous facilitie, made a dittie representing the Battayle and Assault of Cupide, so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre application of his fiction in every part, I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended. When Cupid Scaled," &c. p. 200. For a farther account of Nicholas, Lord Vaux, see Mr. Walpole's Noble Authors, vol. i.

Since this song was first printed off, reasons have occurred which incline me to believe that Lord Vaux, the poet, was not the Lord Nicholas Vaux who died in 1523, but rather a successor of his in the title. For, in the first place, it is remarkable that all the old writers mention Lord Vaux, the poet, as contemporary, or rather posterior, to Sir Thomas Wyat and the E. of Surrey, neither of which made any figure till long after the death of the first Lord Nicholas Vaux. Thus Puttenham, in his Art of English Poesie, 1589, in p. 48, having named Skelton, adds: "In the latter end of the same kings raigne [Henry VIII.] sprong up a new company of courtly Makers [Poets], of whom Sir Thomas Wyat th' elder, and Henry Earl of Surrey were the two chieftaines, who having travailed into Italie, and there tasted the sweet and stately measures and stile of the Italian poesie ... greatly polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesie.... In the same time, or not long after, was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facilitie in vulgar makings."[318] Webbe, in his Discourse of English Poetrie, 1586, ranges them in the following order: "The E. of Surrey, the Lord Vaux, Norton, Bristow." And Gascoigne, in the place quoted in the first volume of this work [B. ii. No. 2.] mentions Lord Vaux after Surrey. Again, the stile and measure of Lord Vaux's pieces seem too refined and polished for the age of Henry VII., and rather resemble the smoothness and harmony of Surrey and Wyat, than the rude metre of Skelton and Hawes. But what puts the matter out of all doubt, in the British Museum is a copy of his poem, I lothe that I did love [vid. vol. i. ubi supra], with this title, "A dyttye or sonet made by the Lord Vaus, in the time of the noble Quene Marye, representing the image of Death." Harl. MSS. No. 1703, sec. 25.

It is evident then that Lord Vaux, the poet, was not he that flourished in the reign of Henry VII., but either his son or grandson; and yet, according to Dugdale's Baronage, the former was named Thomas and the latter William: but this difficulty is not great, for none of the old writers mention the Christian name of the poetic Lord Vaux,[319] except Puttenham; and it is more likely that he might be mistaken in that lord's name, than in the time in which he lived, who was so nearly his contemporary.

Thomas, Lord Vaux, of Harrowden, in Northamptonshire, was summoned to parliament in 1531. When he died does not appear, but he probably lived till the latter end of Queen Mary's reign, since his son William was not summoned to parliament till the last year of that reign, in 1558. This lord died in 1595. See Dugdale, vol. ii. p. 304. Upon the whole I am inclined to believe that Lord Thomas was the poet.

The following copy is printed from the first edition of Surrey's Poems, 1557, 4to. See another song of Lord Vaux's in the preceding volume, B. ii. No. 2.

[Percy is correct in his supposition that the poet was Thomas, second Lord Vaux, and not his father Nicholas, who died May 14th, 1524, only seventeen days after he was advanced to the peerage.]

When Cupide scaled first the fort,
Wherein my hart lay wounded sore;
The batry was of such a sort,
That I must yelde or die therfore.

There sawe I Love upon the wall, 5
How he his banner did display;
Alarme, alarme, he gan to call:
And bad his souldiours kepe aray.

The armes, the which that Cupide bare,
Were pearced hartes with teares besprent,[320] 10
In silver and sable to declare
The stedfast love, he alwayes ment.

There might you se his band all drest
In colours like to white and blacke,
With powder and with pelletes prest 15
To bring the fort to spoile and sacke.

Good-wyll, the maister of the shot,
Stode in the rampire[321] brave and proude,
For spence[322] of pouder he spared not
Assault! assault! to crye aloude. 20

There might you heare the cannons rore;
Eche pece discharged a lovers loke;
Which had the power to rent, and tore
In any place whereas they toke.

And even with the trumpettes sowne[323] 25
The scaling ladders were up set,
And Beautie walked up and downe,
With bow in hand, and arrowes whet.

Then first Desire began to scale,
And shrouded him under 'his' targe;[324][325] 30
As one the worthiest of them all,
And aptest for to geve the charge.

Then pushed souldiers with their pikes,
And halberdes with handy strokes;
The argabushe[326] in fleshe it lightes, 35
And duns the ayre with misty smokes.

And, as it is the souldiers use
When shot and powder gins to want,
I hanged up my flagge of truce,
And pleaded up for my livès grant. 40

When Fansy thus had made her breche,
And Beauty entred with her band,
With bagge and baggage, sely[327] wretch,
I yelded into Beauties hand.

Then Beautie bad to blow retrete, 45
And every souldier to retire,
And mercy wyll'd with spede to set
Me captive bound as prisoner.

Madame, quoth I, sith that this day
Hath served you at all assayes, 50
I yeld to you without delay
Here of the fortresse all the kayes.

And sith that I have ben the marke,
At whom you shot at with your eye;
Nedes must you with your handy warke, 55
Or salve my sore, or let me die.

FOOTNOTES:

[318] i.e. Compositions in English.

[319] In the Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1596, he is called simply "Lord Vaux the elder."

[320] [besprinkled.]

[321] [rampart.]

[322] [expense.]

[323] [sound.]

[324] Ver. 30. her, ed. 1557, so ed. 1585.

[325] [shield.]

[326] [harquebuss, or old-fashioned musket.]

[327] [simple.]

IX.
SIR ALDINGAR.

This old fabulous legend is given from the Editor's folio MS. with conjectural emendations, and the insertion of some additional stanzas to supply and compleat the story.

It has been suggested to the Editor that the author of this poem seems to have had in his eye the story of Gunhilda, who is sometimes called Eleanor, and was married to the Emperor (here called King) Henry.

Percy's MS. note in his folio is as follows: "Without some corrections this will not do for my Reliques." Readers will be able to judge for themselves as to the relative beauties of the two, now that the original is printed at the end of Percy's amended copy. To make the interpolations more apparent, Percy's added verses are placed between brackets, and it will be seen that these contain much of the phraseology and many of the stock prettinesses of the polite ballad-monger; some of the most vivid bits of the old ballad being passed over. Percy keeps tolerably to the story, except that he makes the second messenger one of the queen's damsels instead of a man. Sir Walter Scott supposes Sir Aldingar to be founded upon the kindred ballad of Sir Hugh le Blond, but, as Professor Child says, without any reason. The story occurs in most of the literatures of Europe.

Our king he kept a false stewàrde,
Sir Aldingar they him call;
[A falser steward than he was one,
Servde not in bower nor hall.]

He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, 5
Her deere worshippe to betraye:
Our queene she was a good womàn,
And evermore said him naye.

Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind,
With her hee was never content, 10
[Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse,]
In a fyer to have her brent.[328]

There came a lazar[329] to the kings gate,
A lazar both blinde and lame:
He tooke the lazar upon his backe, 15
Him on the queenes bed has layne.

"Lye still, lazàr, wheras thou lyest,
Looke thou goe not hence away;
Ile make thee a whole man and a sound
In two howers of the day."[330] 20

Then went him forth sir Aldingar,
[And hyed him to our king:]
"If I might have grace, as I have space,
["Sad tydings I could bring.">[

Say on, say on, sir Aldingar, 25
Saye on the soothe[331] to mee.
"Our queene hath chosen a new new lòve,
And shee will have none of thee.

"If shee had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had beene her shame; 30
But she hath chose her a lazar man,
A lazar both blinde and lame."

If this be true, thou Aldingar,
The tyding thou tellest to me,
Then will I make the a rich rich knight, 35
Rich both of golde and fee.

But if it be false, sir Aldingar,
[As God nowe grant it bee!
Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood,]
Shall hang on the gallows tree. 40

[He brought our king to the queenes chambèr,
And opend to him the dore.]
A lodlye[332] love, king Harry says,
For our queene dame Elinore!

If thou were a man, as thou art none, 45
[Here on my sword thoust dye;]
But a payre of new gallowes shall be built,
And there shalt thou hang on hye.

[Forth then hyed our king, I wysse,
And an angry man was hee; 50
And soone he found queene Elinore,
That bride so bright of blee.[333]]

Now God you save, our queene, madame,
And Christ you save and see;
Heere you have chosen a newe newe love, 55
And you will have none of mee.

If you had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had been your shame:
But you have chose you a lazar man,
A lazar both blinde and lame. 60

[Therfore a fyer there shall be built,
And brent all shalt thou bee.——]
"Now out alacke!" said our comly queene,
"Sir Aldingar's false to mee.

Now out alacke!" sayd our comlye queene, 65
[My heart with griefe will brast.[334]]
I had thought swevens[335] had never been true,
I have proved them true at last.

I dreamt in my sweven on thursday eve,
In my bed wheras I laye, 70
I dreamt a grype[336] and a grimlie beast
Had carryed my crowne awaye;

My gorgett[337] and my kirtle[338] of golde,
And all my faire head-geere:
And he wold worrye me with his tush[339] 75
And to his nest y-beare:

Saving there came a litle 'gray' hawke,[340]
A merlin him they call,
Which untill the grounde did strike the grype,
That dead he downe did fall. 80

Giffe[341] I were a man, as now I am none,
A battell wold I prove,
To fight with that traitor Aldingar;
Att him I cast my glove.

But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 85
My liege, grant me a knight
To fight with that traitor sir Aldingar,
To maintaine me in my right."

"Now forty dayes I will give thee
To seeke thee a knight therin: 90
If thou find not a knight in forty dayes
Thy bodye it must brenn."

[Then shee sent east, and shee sent west,
By north and south bedeene:[342]
But never a champion colde she find,] 95
Wolde fight with that knight soe keene.

[Now twenty dayes were spent and gone,
Noe helpe there might be had;
Many a teare shed our comelye queene
And aye her hart was sad. 100

Then came one of the queenes damsèlles,
And knelt upon her knee,
"Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame,
I trust yet helpe may be:

"And here I will make mine avowe,[343] 105
And with the same me binde;
That never will I return to thee,
Till I some helpe may finde."

Then forth she rode on a faire palfràye
Oer hill and dale about: 110
But never a champion colde she finde,
Wolde fighte with that knight so stout.

And nowe the daye drewe on a pace,
When our good queene must dye;
All woe-begone was that faire damsèlle, 115
When she found no helpe was nye.

All woe-begone was that faire damsèlle,
And the salt teares fell from her eye:]
When lo! as she rode by a rivers side,
She met with a tinye boye. 120

[A tinye boye she mette, God wot,
All clad in mantle of golde;]
He seemed noe more in mans likenèsse,
Then a childe of four yeere olde.

[Why grieve you, damselle faire, he sayd, 125
And what doth cause you moane?
The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke,
But fast she pricked on.]

Yet turn againe, thou faïre damsèlle,
And greete thy queene from mee: 130
When bale[344] is att hyest, boote[345] is nyest,
Nowe helpe enoughe may bee.

Bid her remember what she dreamt
In her bedd, wheras shee laye;
How when the grype and the grimly beast 135
Wolde have carried her crowne awaye,

Even then there came the litle gray hawke,
And saved her from his clawes:
Then bidd the queene be merry at hart,
[For heaven will fende[346] her cause.] 140

Back then rode that faire damsèlle,
And her hart it lept for glee:
And when she told her gracious dame
A gladd woman then was shee.

[But when the appointed day was come, 145
No helpe appeared nye:
Then woeful, woeful was her hart,
And the teares stood in her eye.

And nowe a fyer was built of wood;
And a stake was made of tree; 150
And now queene Elinor forth was led,
A sorrowful sight to see.

Three times the herault he waved his hand,
And three times spake on hye:
Giff any good knight will fende this dame, 155
Come forth, or she must dye.

No knight stood forth, no knight there came,
No helpe appeared nye:
And now the fyer was lighted up,
Queen Elinor she must dye. 160

And now the fyer was lighted up,
As hot as hot might bee;]
When riding upon a little white steed,
The tinye boy they see.

"Away with that stake, away with those brands, 165
And loose our comelye queene:
I am come to fight with sir Aldingar,
And prove him a traitor keene."

Forthe then stood sir Aldingar,
But when he saw the chylde, 170
He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe,
And weened[347] he had been beguylde.

"Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar,
And eyther fighte or flee;
I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, 175
Thoughe I am so small to see."

The boye pulld forth a well good sworde
So gilt it dazzled the ee;
The first stroke stricken at Aldingar
Smote off his leggs by the knee. 180

"Stand up, stand up, thou false traitòr,
And fight upon thy feete,
For and thou thrive, as thou begin'st,
Of height wee shall be meete."

A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr, 185
While I am a man alive.
A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr,
Me for to houzle and shrive.[348]

I wolde have laine by our comlie queene,
Bot shee wolde never consent; 190
Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge
In a fyer to have her brent.

There came a lazar to the kings gates,
A lazar both blind and lame:
I tooke the lazar upon my backe, 195
And on her bedd had him layne.

[Then ranne I to our comlye king,
These tidings sore to tell.]
But ever alacke! sayes Aldingar,
Falsing never doth well. 200

Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame,
The short time I must live.
"Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar,
As freely I forgive."

Here take thy queene, our king Harryè, 205
And love her as thy life,
[For never had a king in Christentye,
A truer and fairer wife.

King Henrye ran to claspe his queene,
And loosèd her full sone: 210
Then turnd to look for the tinye boye;
——The boye was vanisht and gone.

But first he had touchd the lazar man,
And stroakt him with his hand:
The lazar under the gallowes tree 215
All whole and sounde did stand.]

The lazar under the gallowes tree
Was comelye, straight and tall;
King Henrye made him his head stewàrde
To wayte withinn his hall. 220

⁂

[The following is the original version from the folio MS reprinted from Hales and Furnivall's ed. vol. i. p. 166:

Our king he kept a ffalse steward,
men called him Sir Aldingar
he wold haue layen by our comely queene,
her deere worshipp to haue betraide. 4
our queene shee was a good woman,
& euer more said him nay.

Aldingar was offended in his mind,
with her hee was neuer content, 8
but he sought what meanes he cold find out,
in a fyer to haue her brent.

There came a lame lazer to the Kings gates,
a lazer was lind & lame; 12
he tooke the lazer vpon his backe,
vpon the queenes bed he did him lay:

he said, "lye still, lazer, wheras thou lyest,
looke thou goe not away, 16
Ile make thee a whole man & a sound
in 2 howres of a day."

& then went forth Sir Aldingar
our Queene for to betray, 20
and then he mett with our comlye King,
saies, "god you saue & see!

"If I had space as I haue grace,
A message I wold say to thee." 24
"Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,
say thou on and vnto me."

"I can let you now see one of [the] greiuos[est] sights
that euer Christen King did see: 28
Our Queene hath chosen a New New loue,
She will haue none of thee;

"If shee had chosen a right good Knight,
the lesse had beene her shame, 32
but she hath chosen a Lazar man
which is both blinde & lame."

"If this be true, thou Aldingar,
that thou dost tell to me, 36
then will I make thee a rich Knight
both of gold and fee;

"But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,
that thou doest tell to me, 40
then looke for noe other death
but to be hangd on a tree.
goe with me," saide our comly king,
"this Lazar for to see." 44

When the King he came into the queenes chamber,
standing her bed befor,
"there is a lodly lome," says Harry King
"for our dame Queene Elinor! 48

"If thou were a man, as thou art none,
here thou sholdest be slaine;
but a paire of new gallowes shall be biil[t]
thoust hang on them soe hye; 52

"and fayre fyer there shalbe bett,
and brent our Queene shal bee."
fforth then walked our comlye King,
& mett with our comly Queene, 56

saies, "God you saue, our Queene, Madam,
and Christ you saue & see!
heere you [haue] chosen a new new loue,
and you will haue none of mee. 60

"If you had chosen a right good Knight
the lesse he beene your shame,
but you haue chosen a lazar man
that is both blind & lame." 64

"Euer alacke!" said our comly Queene,
"Sir Aldingar is false to mee;
but euer alacke!" said our comly Queene,
"Euer alas, & woe is mee! 68

"I had thought sweuens had neuer been true;
I haue prooued them true at the last;
I dreamed in my sweauen on thursday at eueninge
in my bed wheras I lay, 72

"I dreamed the grype & a grimlie beast
had carryed my crowne away,
my gorgett & my kirtle of golde,
and all my faire heade geere; 76

"How he wold haue worryed me with his tush
& borne me into his nest,
saving there came a litle hawk
flying out of the East, 80
"saving there came a litle Hawke
which men call a Merlion,
vntill the ground he stroke him downe,
that dead he did fall downe. 84

"giffe I were a man, as I am none,
a battell I would proue,
I wold fight with that false traitor;
att him I cast my gloue! 88

"Seing I am able noe battell to make,
you must grant me, my leege, a Knight
to fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,
to maintaine me in my right." 92

"Ile giue thee 40 dayes," said our King,
"to seeke thee a man therin;
if thou find not a man in 40 dayes,
in a hott fyer thou shall brenn." 96

Our Queene sent forth a Messenger,
he rode fast into the south,
he rode the countryes through & through,
soe ffar vnto Portsmouth; 100

he cold find never a man in the south country
that wold fight with the knight soe keene.

the second messenger the Queen forth sent,
rode far into the east, 104
but—blessed be God made sunn and moone!—
he sped then all of the best:

as he rode then by one riuer side,
there he mett with a litle child, 108
he seemed noe more in a mans likenesse
then a child of 4 yeeres old;

He askt the Queenes Messenger how far he rode:
loth he was him to tell; 112
the litle one was offended att him,
bid him adew, farwell!

Said, "turne thou againe, thou messenger,
greete our Queene well from me; 116
when Bale is att hyest, boote is att next,
helpe enough there may bee!

"bid our queene remember what she did dreame
in her bedd wheras shee lay; 120
shee dreamed the grype & the grimly beast
had carryed her crowne away,

"her gorgett & her kirt[l]e of gold,
alsoe her faire head geere, 124
ne wold have werryed her with his tushe
& borne her into her nest,

"Saving there came a litle hawke—
men call him a merlyon— 128
vntill the ground he did strike him downe,
that dead he did ffall downe.

"bidd the queene be merry att her hart,
euermore light & glad, 132
when bale is att hyest, boote is at next,
helpe enoughe there shalbe [had.">[

then the Queenes Messenger rode backe,
a gladed man then was hee; 136
when he came before our Queene,
a gladd woman then was shee;

shee gaue the Messenger 20^li:
O lord, in gold & ffee, 140
saies, "spend & spare not while this doth last,
then feitch thou more of me."

Our Queene was put in a tunne to burne,
She thought no thing but death; 144
thé were ware of the litle one
came ryding forth of the East

with a Mu (line cut away) ...
a louelie child was hee: 148
when he came to that fier,
he light the Queene full nigh;

said, "draw away these brands of fire
lie burning before our Queene, 152
& feitch me hither Sir Aldingar
that is a knight soe keene."

When Aldingar see that litle one,
ffull litle of him hee thought, 156
if there had beene halfe a 100 such,
of them he wold not haue wrought.

hee sayd, "come hither Sir Aldingar,
thou see-must as bigge as a ffooder! 160
I trust to god, ere I haue done with thee,
God will send to vs anger."

saies, "the first stroke thats giuen, Sir Aldingar,
I will giue vnto thee, 164
& if the second giue thou may,
looke then thou spare not mee."

the litle one pulld forth a well good sword,
I-wis itt was all of guilt, 168
it cast light there over that feild,
it shone soe all of guilt:

he stroke the first stroke att Aldingar,
he stroke away his leggs by his knee, 172

sayes, "stand vp, stand vp, thou false traitor,
& fight vpon thy feete!
"for & thou thriue as thou begins,
of a height wee shalbe meete." 176

"A preist, a preist!" sayes Aldingar,
"me for to houzle & shriue!
A preist, a preist," sayes Aldingar,
"while I am a man liuing a-liue! 180

"I wold haue laine by our comlie Queene;
to it shee wold neuer consent;
I thought to haue betrayed her to our King,
in a fyer to haue had her brent; 184

"there came a lame lazer to the Kings gates,
a lazar both blind & lame;

"I tooke the lazar vpon my backe,
in the Queenes bed I did him lay, 188
I bad him 'lie still, Lazar, where he lay,
looke he went not away,
I wold make him a whole man & a sound
in 2 houres of a day.' 192

"euer alacke!" sayes Sir Aldingar,
"falsing neuer doth well;

"forgiue, forgiue me, Queene, Madam!
for Christs loue forgiue me!" 196
"God forgaue his death, Aldingar,
& freely I forgiue thee."

"Now take thy wife, thou K[ing] Harry,
& loue her as thou shold; 200
thy wiffe shee is a true to thee
as stone that lies on the castle wall."

the Lazar vnder the gallow tree
was a pretty man & small, 204
the Lazar vnder the gallow tree
was made steward in King Henerys hall.

ffins.]

FOOTNOTES:

[328] [burnt.]

[329] [leper.]

[330] He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power of touching for the king's evil.

[331] [truth.]

[332] [loathsome.]

[333] [complexion.]

[334] [burst.]

[335] [dreams.]

[336] [griffin.]

[337] [neckerchief.]

[338] [petticoat.]

[339] [tooth.]

[340] Ver. 77. see below, v. 137.

[341] [if.]

[342] [immediately.]

[343] [vow or oath.]

[344] [evil.]

[345] [help.]

[346] [defend.]

[347] [supposed.]

[348] [to give the sacrament and to confess.]

X.
THE GABERLUNYIE MAN.

A Scottish Song.

Tradition informs us that the author of this song was King James V. of Scotland. This prince (whose character for wit and libertinism bears a great resemblance to that of his gay successor, Charles II.) was noted for strolling about his dominions in disguise,[349] and for his frequent gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of this kind he hath celebrated with his own pen, viz. in this ballad of The Gaberlunyie Man; and in another intitled The Jolly Beggar, beginning thus:

"Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boun,
And he tuik up his quarters into a land'art toun.
Fa, la, la," &c.

It seems to be the latter of these ballads (which was too licentious to be admitted into this collection) that is meant in the Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors,[350] where the ingenious writer remarks, that "there is something very ludicrous in the young woman's distress when she thought her first favour had been thrown away upon a beggar."

Bishop Tanner has attributed to James V. the celebrated ballad of Christ's Kirk on the Green, which is ascribed to King James I. in Bannatyne's MS. written in 1568: and, notwithstanding that authority, the editor of this book is of opinion that Bishop Tanner was right.

King James V. died Dec. 13th, 1542, aged 33.

[James V. was called the King of the Commons, from his popular manners and vagrant habit, and many stories are told of his adventures when in disguise. One of these is worth relating here. On a certain occasion he heard himself abused by a country lad as a tyrant and a man odious in every respect, until, unable to restrain himself, he threw off his disguise, and told his accuser that he was the king. "Are you really the king?" said the lad, retaining his self-possession; "weel, ye'll maybe hae heard o' my father: he gaed daft three days regularly every year, and in a' that time spoke naething but lies and nonsense: now I'm exactly the same way, and this is one of my three days." There is no authority for attributing the present song to James V., except ancient and universal tradition. The word gaberlunyie is compounded of gaber, a wallet, and lunyie, the loins: hence a travelling tinker or beggar carrying a wallet by his side, was called a "gaberlunyie man." Scott has sketched a vivid portrait of one of these privileged beggars in his Antiquary, Edie Ochiltree, to wit. The Jolly Beggar is printed in Herd's Scottish Songs, ii. 164, and in Ritson's Scottish Songs, i. 168. Competent authorities are not willing to take the credit of the authorship of Christ's Kirk on the Green from James I. and give it to James V.]

The pauky auld Carle[351] came ovir the lee
Wi' mony good-eens and days to mee,
Saying, Goodwife, for your courtesie,
Will ye lodge a silly[352] poor man?
The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 5
And down ayont the ingle[353] he sat;
My dochters shoulders he gan to clap,
And cadgily[354] ranted and sang.

O wow![355] quo he, were I as free,
As first when I saw this countrie, 10
How blyth and merry wad I bee!
And I wad nevir think lang.
He grew canty,[356] and she grew fain;[357]
But little did her auld minny ken[358]
What thir slee twa[359] togither were say'n, 15
When wooing they were sa thrang.[360]

And O! quo he, ann ye were as black,
As evir the crown of your dadyes hat,
Tis I wad lay thee by my back,
And awa wi' me thou sould gang. 20
And O! quoth she, ann I were as white,
As evir the snaw lay on the dike,
Ild clead me braw,[361] and lady-like,
And awa with thee Ild gang.

Between the twa was made a plot; 25
They raise a wee before the cock,
And wyliely they shot the lock,
And fast to the bent are they gane.
Up the morn the auld wife raise,[362]
And at her leisure put on her claiths, 30
Syne to the servants bed she gaes
To speir for the silly poor man.

She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay,
The strae was cauld, he was away,
She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day! 35
For some of our geir will be gane.
Some ran to coffer, and some to kist,[363]
But nought was stown[364] that could be mist.
She dancid her lane,[365] cryd, Praise be blest,
I have lodgd a leal poor man. 40

Since naithings awa, as we can learn,
The kirns to kirn,[366] and milk to earn,
Gae butt the house,[367] lass, and waken my bairn,
And bid her come quickly ben.[368]
The servant gaed where the dochter lay, 45
The sheets was cauld, she was away,
And fast to her goodwife can say,
Shes aff with the gaberlunyie-man.

O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,
And hast ye, find these traitors agen; 50
For shees be burnt, and hees be slein,
The wearyfou[369] gaberlunyie-man.
Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit,
The wife was wood,[370] and out o' her wit;
She could na gang, nor yet could she sit, 55
But ay did curse and did ban.

Mean time far hind out owre the lee,
For snug in a glen, where nane could see,
The twa, with kindlie sport and glee,
Cut frae a new cheese a whang.[371] 60
The priving[372] was gude, it pleas'd them baith,
To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith.
Quo she, to leave thee, I will be laith,
My winsome gaberlunyie-man.

O kend my minny I were wi' you, 65
Illfardly[373] wad she crook her mou,[374]
Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow,
Aftir the gaberlunyie-mon.
My dear, quo he, yee're yet owre yonge;
And hae na learnt the beggars tonge, 70
To follow me frae toun to toun,
And carrie the gaberlunyie on.

Wi' kauk and keel,[375] Ill win your bread,
And spindles and whorles[376] for them wha need,
Whilk is a gentil trade indeed 75
The gaberlunyie to carrie—o.
Ill bow my leg and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout owre my ee,
A criple or blind they will cau me:
While we sail sing and be merrie—o. 80

FOOTNOTES:

[349] Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's daughter at Niddry, near Edinburgh.

[350] Vol. ii. p. 203.

[351] [sly old man.]

[352] [simple or poor.]

[353] [beyond the fire.]

[354] [merrily.]

[355] [exclamation of admiration or surprise.]

[356] [merry.]

[357] [fond.]

[358] [mother know.]

[359] [these sly two.]

[360] [so close.]

[361] [clad me handsomely.]

[362] Ver. 29. The carline, other copies.

[363] [chest.]

[364] [stolen.]

[365] [alone by herself.]

[366] [churns to churn.]

[367] [go to the outer apartment.]

[368] [in.]

[369] [troublesome.]

[370] [mad.]

[371] [slice.]

[372] [proof.]

[373] [ill-favouredly.]

[374] [mouth.]

[375] [chalk and ruddle.]

[376] [instruments used for spinning in Scotland.]

XI.
ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL.

It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the latter the giddy inconstant multitude. We have here a spurn at fallen greatness from one of the angry partisans of declining popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diana and loss of their craft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of Cromwell's commitment to the Tower, June 10th, 1540, and that of his being beheaded, July 28 following. A short interval! but Henry's passion for Catharine Howard would admit of no delay. Notwithstanding our libeller, Cromwell had many excellent qualities; his great fault was too much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master; but let it be considered that this master had raised him from obscurity, and that the high-born nobility had shewn him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance. The original copy, printed at London in 1540, is intitled, A newe ballade made of Thomas Crumwel, called "Trolle on away." To it is prefixed this distich by way of burthen:

"Trolle on away, trolle on awaye.
Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away."

The following piece gave rise to a poetic controversy, which was carried on thro' a succession of seven or eight ballads, written for and against Lord Cromwell. These are all preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio collection of proclamations, &c., made in the reigns of King Henry VIII., King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James I., &c.

[Thomas Cromwell, called Malleus Monachorum, came of a good old Lincolnshire family. He was born about the year 1490 at Putney, where his father carried on the business of an iron-founder, which his enemies reduced to that of a blacksmith. His father died early, and in consequence of the re-marriage of his mother, he became a wanderer.

The author of the poor play, entitled The Life and Death of Thomas Lord Cromwell, which has been absurdly attributed to Shakspere, makes "old Cromwell, a blacksmith, of Putney," live to see his son "made lord keeper."

There is a fragment of a ballad on Cromwell without any beginning in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 127), which ends as follows:

"How now? How now? the king did say,
Thomas how is it with thee?
Hanging and drawing O King! he saide;
You shall never gett more from me."

Mr. Hales points out a coincidence not mentioned by Mr. Froude, viz. that the minister was beheaded and the king married to Catherine Howard on one and the same day. In 1525 Cromwell undertook for Wolsey the work of visiting and breaking up the small monasteries which the Pope had granted for the foundation of Wolsey's new colleges, thus commencing the work which gained him the enmity of the adherents of the old faith. He was the first to cause Bibles in the English language to be deposited in all the churches, and to him we owe the institution of parish registers.]

Both man and chylde is glad to here tell
Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell,
Now that he is set to learne to spell.
Synge trolle on away.

When fortune lokyd the in thy face,
Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace; 5
Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace.
Synge, &c.

Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst,
Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst,
Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst.
Synge, &c.

Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes, 10
Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes,
Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes.
Synge, &c.

Fyrste when kynge Henry, God saue his grace!
Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face,
Then it was tyme to purchase the a place. 15
Synge, &c.

Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature,
Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture;
But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure.
Synge, &c.

Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke,
One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke, 20
For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke.
Synge, &c.

Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre;
But euer was full of iniquite:
Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the.
Synge, &c.

All they, that were of the new trycke, 25
Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke;
Wherfore nowe thou haste touchyd the quycke.
Synge, &c.

Bothe sacramentes and sacramentalles
Thou woldyst not suffre within thy walles;
Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules. 30
Synge, &c.

Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell,
Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell,[377]
Or else sent vs frome the deuyll of hell.
Synge, &c.

Thou woldest neuer to vertue applye,
But couetyd euer to clymme to hye, 35
And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye.
Synge, &c.

Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose;
Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose,
Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose.
Synge, &c.

Thou myghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke 40
Upon thy gresy fullers stocke;[378]
Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke.

Yet saue that soule, that God hath bought,
And for thy carcas care thou nought,
Let it suffre payne, as it hath wrought. 45
Synge, &c.

God saue kyng Henry with all his power,
And prynce Edwarde that goodly flowre,
With al hys lordes of great honoure.
Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away.
Hevye and how rombelowe[379] trolle on awaye. 50

FOOTNOTES:

[377] Ver. 32. i.e. Cain, or Ishmael. See below, the note, book ii. No. III. stanza 3rd.

[378] V. 41. Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a blacksmith at Putney: but the author of this ballad would insinuate that either he himself or some of his ancestors were fullers by trade.

[379] [The burden of an old song.]

XII.
HARPALUS.

An Ancient English Pastoral.

This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at pastoral writing in our language, is preserved among the Songs and Sonnettes of the Earl of Surrey, &c., 4to. in that part of the collection which consists of pieces by uncertain auctours. These poems were first published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII.; but it is presumed most of them were composed before the death of Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1541. See Surrey's Poems, 4to. fol. 19, 49.

Tho' written perhaps near half a century before the Shepherd's Calendar,[380] this will be found far superior to any of those eclogues, in natural unaffected sentiments, in simplicity of style, in easy flow of versification, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry. Spenser ought to have profited more by so excellent a model.

[Warton describes this poem as "perhaps the first example in our language now remaining of the pure and unmixed pastoral, and in the erotic species for ease of numbers, elegance of rural allusion excelling everything of the kind in Spenser, who is erroneously ranked as our earliest English bucolic." He did not, however, take into account Robin and Makine, which follows Harpalus in this book, but was written more than half a century before it. Spenser-lovers also are not likely to agree with Percy's and Warton's summary judgments upon the Shepherd's Calendar.]

Phylida was a faire mayde,
As fresh as any flowre;
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde
To be his paramour.

Harpalus, and eke Corin, 5
Were herdmen both yfere:[381]
And Phylida could twist and spinne,
And thereto sing full clere.

But Phylida was all tò coye,
For Harpalus to winne: 10
For Corin was her onely joye,
Who forst[382] her not a pinne.

How often would she flowers twine?
How often garlandes make
Of couslips and of colombine? 15
And al for Corin's sake.

But Corin, he had haukes to lure,
And forced more the field:[383]
Of lovers lawe he toke no cure;
For once he was begilde. 20

Harpalus prevailed nought,
His labour all was lost;
For he was fardest from her thought,
And yet he loved her most.

Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, 25
And drye as clot of clay:
His fleshe it was consumed cleane;
His colour gone away.

His beard it had not long be shave;
His heare hong all unkempt: 30
A man most fit even for the grave,
Whom spitefull love had spent.

His eyes were red and all 'forewacht;'[384][385]
His face besprent with teares:
It semde unhap had him long 'hatcht,' 35
In mids of his dispaires.

His clothes were blacke, and also bare;
As one forlorne was he;
Upon his head alwayes he ware
A wreath of wyllow tree. 40

His beastes he kept upon the hyll,
And he sate in the dale;
And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril,
He gan to tell his tale.

Oh Harpalus! (thus would he say) 45
Unhappiest under sunne!
The cause of thine unhappy day,
By love was first begunne.

For thou wentest first by sute to seeke
A tigre to make tame, 50
That settes not by thy love a leeke;
But makes thy griefe her game.

As easy it were for to convert
The frost into 'a' flame;
As for to turne a frowarde hert, 55
Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.

Corin he liveth carèlesse:
He leapes among the leaves:
He eates the frutes of thy redresse:[386]
Thou 'reapst,' he takes the sheaves. 60

My beastes, a whyle your foode refraine,
And harke your herdmans sounde:
Whom spitefull love, alas! hath slaine,
Through-girt[387] with many a wounde.

O happy be ye, beastès wilde, 65
That here your pasture takes:
I se that ye be not begilde
Of these your faithfull makes.[388]

The hart he feedeth by the hinde:
The bucke harde by the do: 70
The turtle dove is not unkinde
To him that loves her so.

The ewe she hath by her the ramme:
The yong cow hath the bull:
The calfe with many a lusty lambe 75
Do fede their hunger full.

But, wel-away! that nature wrought
The, Phylida, so faire:
For I may say that I have bought
Thy beauty all tò deare. 80

What reason is that crueltie
With beautie should have part?
Or els that such great tyranny
Should dwell in womans hart?

I see therefore to shape my death 85
She cruelly is prest;[389]
To th'ende that I may want my breath:
My dayes been at the best.

O Cupide, graunt this my request,
And do not stoppe thine eares; 90
That she may feele within her brest
The paines of my dispaires:

Of Corin 'who' is carèlesse,
That she may crave her fee:
As I have done in great distresse, 95
That loved her faithfully.

But since that I shal die her slave;
Her slave, and eke her thrall:[390]
Write you, my frendes, upon my grave
This chaunce that is befall. 100

"Here lieth unhappy Harpalus
By cruell love now slaine:
Whom Phylida unjustly thus
Hath murdred with disdaine."

FOOTNOTES:

[380] First published in 1579.

[381] [together.]

[382] [regarded.]

[383] [cared more for field sports.]

[384] Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from ed. 1574.

[385] [overwakeful.]

[386] [care.]

[387] [pierced through.]

[388] [mates.]

[389] [ready.]

[390] [captive.]

XIII.
ROBIN AND MAKYNE.

An Ancient Scottish Pastoral.

The palm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a contemporary writer with the author of the foregoing. The critics will judge of their respective merits; but must make some allowance for the preceding ballad, which is given simply as it stands in the old editions; whereas this, which follows, has been revised and amended throughout by Allan Ramsay, from whose Evergreen, vol. i. it is here chiefly printed. The curious reader may, however, compare it with the more original copy, printed among Ancient Scottish Poems, from the MS. of George Bannatyne, 1568, Edinburgh, 1770, 12mo. Mr. Robert Henryson (to whom we are indebted for this poem) appears to so much advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we are sorry we can give little other account of him besides what is contained in the following eloge, written by W. Dunbar, a Scottish poet, who lived about the middle of the sixteenth century:

"In Dunfermline he [Death] hes done roun
Gud Maister Robert Henrisoun."

Indeed, some little further insight into the history of this Scottish bard is gained from the title prefixed to some of his poems preserved in the British Museum, viz. The morall Fabillis of Esop, compylit be Maister Robert Henrisoun, scolmaister of Dumfermling, 1571. Harl. MSS. 3865, § 1.

In Ramsay's Evergreen, vol. i. are preserved two other little Doric pieces by Henryson: the one intitled The Lyon and the Mouse, the other The garment of gude Ladyis. Some other of his poems may be seen in the Ancient Scottish Poems, printed from Bannatyne's MS. above referred to.

[This remarkable poem is peculiarly interesting as being the earliest specimen of pastoral poetry in the language. Campbell calls it "the first known pastoral, and one of the best in a dialect rich with the favours of the pastoral muse." Langhorne writes justly:

"In gentle Henryson's unlaboured strain
Sweet Arethusa's shepherd breath'd again."

Percy errs in describing Henryson as a contemporary of Surrey, as the Scottish poet lived half a century before the English one. The dates of his birth and death are not known, but he flourished in the reign of James III. (1460-1488). "On the 10th of September, 1462, the venerable master Robert Henrysone, Licentiate in Arts and Bachelor in Degrees, was incorporated or admitted a member of the newly founded University of Glasgow." He was a notary public, and probably the master of the grammar school attached to the Abbey of Dunfermline, not as might be supposed a mere parish schoolmaster. According to the tradition of the last century, our poet was the representative of the family of Henryson or Henderson, of Fordell, in the county of Fife; but Mr. David Laing thinks that it is a gratuitous assumption to suppose that he or his predecessors ever possessed a single acre of the lands of Fordell.

Percy has used the version given in Ramsay's Evergreen, which is slightly altered in diction from the original in the Bannatyne MS.; for instance, the last stanza occurs in the latter as follows:

"Makyne went hame blyth anneuche,
Attour the holltis hair;
Robene murnit, and Makyne leuche;
Scho sang, he sichit sair
And so left him, bayth wo and wreuch,
In dolour and in cair,
Kepand his hird under a huche
Amangis the holtis hair."

In the Evergreen version, the last verse is altered to "Amang the rushy gair," either because the words "holtis hair" occur in verse two of the stanza, or that the Editor saw an impropriety in the close vicinity of the similar words holt and heuch. The two words "holtis hair" are explained as hoary hills or hoary woods, but Finlay (Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, 1808, vol. ii. p. 193) holds that "hair" really means high, and derives it from Isl. har == altus. He says that a high rock in some of the northern counties of Scotland, where the dialect is strongly tinctured with Danish, is called "hair craig," and that the same word lingers on in the Hare-stone of the Borough Moor, Edinburgh, which obtained its name in the following manner: The laird of Pennycuik held certain lands by a strange tenure. He was obliged to mount a large stone or rock, and salute the king with three blasts of a horn whenever he passed that way. This rock or eminence was called the "Hare-stone," and still exists near Morningside Church. Hoary, however, is to be understood as grey and not as white with snow, so that the hare-stone is probably the grey stone. The word holt may also mean a heath, and Cædmon uses the phrase "har hæð" = hoar or grey heath.

The date (1571) attached to Henryson's version of Æsop's Fables is that of transcription. It is not known when the Fables were first printed, but they were reprinted by Robert Lekpreuik for Henry Charteris in 1570. They are supposed to have been written between 1470 and 1480.

Henryson wrote several other short poems, as well as the Testament of Cresseid, written as a continuation or supplement to Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, all of which have been collected for the first time into an elegant volume by David Laing, who has added notes and a memoir of the poet (Edinburgh, 1865).

This Testament has a particular interest for us, because Shakspere referred to it when he wrote "Cressida was a beggar" (Twelfth Night, act iii. sc. 1). The lines in Henryson's poem which illustrate this passage, are as follows:

"Thair was na buit [help], bot furth with thame scho yeid
Fra place to place, quhill cauld and houngir sair
Compellit hir to be ane rank beggair." Ll. 481-3.]

Robin sat on the gude grene hill,
Keipand a flock of fie,[391]
Quhen mirry[392] Makyne said him till,[393]
"O Robin rew[394] on me:
I haif thee luivt baith loud and still,[395] 5
Thir towmonds[396] twa or thre;
My dule in dern bot gif thou dill,[397]
Doubtless but dreid Ill die."

Robin replied, Now by the rude,
Naithing of love I knaw, 10
But keip my sheip undir yon wod:
Lo quhair they raik on raw.[398]
Quhat can have mart[399] thee in thy mude,[400]
Thou Makyne to me schaw;
Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?[401] 15
Fain wald I leir[402] that law.

"The law of luve gin thou wald leir,
Tak thair an A, B, C;
Be heynd,[403] courtas, and fair of feir,[404][405]
Wyse, hardy, kind and frie, 20
Sae that nae danger do the deir,[406][407]
Quhat dule in dern thou drie;[408]
Press ay to pleis,[409] and blyth appeir,
Be patient and privie."

Robin, he answert her againe, 25
I wat not quhat is luve;
But I haif marvel in certaine
Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe.[410]
The wedder is fair, and I am fain;[411]
My sheep gais hail abuve;[412] 30
And sould we pley us on the plain,
They wald us baith repruve.

"Robin, tak tent[413] unto my tale,
And wirk[414] all as I reid;[415]
And thou sall haif my heart all hale, 35
Eik and my maiden-heid:
Sen God, he sendis bute for bale,[416]
And for murning remeid,[417]
I'dern with thee bot gif I dale,[418]
Doubtless I am but deid." 40

Makyne, to-morn be this ilk tyde,
Gif ye will meit me heir,
Maybe my sheip may gang besyde,
Quhyle we have liggd full neir;
But maugre haif I, gif I byde,[419] 45
Frae thay begin to steir,
Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd,
Then Makyne mak gude cheir.

"Robin, thou reivs[420] me of my rest;
I luve bot thee alane." 50
Makyne, adieu! the sun goes west,
The day is neir-hand gane.
"Robin, in dule[421] I am so drest,
That luve will be my bane."
Makyn, gae luve quhair-eir ye list, 55
For leman I luid nane.

"Robin, I stand in sic a style,
I sich[422] and that full sair."
Makyne, I have bene here this quyle;
At hame I wish I were. 60
"Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle,
Gif thou will do nae mair."
Makyne, som other man beguyle,
For hameward I will fare.

Syne Robin on his ways he went, 65
As light as leif on tree;
But Makyne murnt and made lament,
Scho[423] trow'd him neir to see.
Robin he brayd attowre the bent:[424]
Then Makyne cried on hie, 70
"Now may thou sing, for I am shent![425]
Quhat ailis luve at me?"

Makyne went hame withouten fail,
And weirylie could weip;
Then Robin in a full fair dale 75
Assemblit all his sheip.
Be that some part of Makyne's ail,
Out-throw his heart could creip;
Hir fast he followt to assail,
And till her tuke gude keip.[426] 80

Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne,
A word for ony thing;
For all my luve, it sall be thyne,
Withouten departing.[427]
All hale thy heart for till have myne, 85
Is all my coveting;
My sheip to morn quhyle houris nyne,
Will need of nae keiping.

"Robin, thou hast heard sung and say,
In gests and storys auld, 90
The man that will not when he may,
Sall have nocht when he wald.
I pray to heaven baith nicht and day,
Be eiked[428] their cares sae cauld,
That presses first with thee to play 95
Be forrest, firth, or fauld."[429]

Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
The wether warm and fair,
And the grene wod richt neir-hand by,[430]
To walk attowre all where: 100
There may nae janglers[431] us espy,
That is in luve contrair;
Therin, Makyne, baith you and I
Unseen may mak repair.

"Robin, that warld is now away, 105
And quyt brocht till an end:
And nevir again thereto, perfay,
Sall it be as thou wend;
For of my pain thou made but play;
I words in vain did spend: 110
As thou hast done, sae sall I say,
Murn on, I think to mend."

Makyne, the hope of all my heil,[432]
My heart on thee is set;
I'll evermair to thee be leil,[433] 115
Quhyle I may live but lett,[434]
Never to fail as uthers feill,[435]
Quhat grace so eir I get.
"Robin, with thee I will not deill;
Adieu, for thus we met." 120

Makyne went hameward blyth enough,
Attowre the holtis hair;[436]
Pure Robin murnd, and Makyne leugh;[437]
Scho sang, and he sicht sair:[438]
And so left him bayth wo and wreuch,[439] 125
In dolor and in care,
Keipand his herd under a heuch,[440]
Amang the rushy gair.[441]

FOOTNOTES:

[391] [keeping a flock of sheep.]

[392] [when merry.]

[393] [unto.]

[394] [take pity.]

[395] [openly and secretly.]

[396] [these twelvemonths.]

[397] [unless thou share my secret woe.]

[398] [they extend themselves in a row.]

[399] [marred.]

[400] [mood.]

[401] [loved.]

[402] [learn.]

[403] [gentle.]

[404] [fair of countenance.]

[405] Ver. 19. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above, heynd, not keynd, as in the Edinb. ed. 1770.

[406] [do thee hurt.]