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Title: The Book of Brave Old Ballads

Author: Unknown

Illustrator: John Gilbert

Release Date: May 15, 2008 [EBook #25480]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

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[Pg i]

THE BOOK

OF

BRAVE OLD BALLADS.

Illustrated with Sixteen Coloured Engravings,

FROM DRAWINGS BY JOHN GILBERT.

"I never heard the old song of Percie and Douglas, that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet."—Sir Philip Sidney.

LONDON:
WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER,
WARWICK HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW.

[Pg ii]

LONDON:
PRINTED BY J. OGDEN AND CO.,
172, ST. JOHN STREET, E.C.

THE FROLICSOME DUKE, OR THE TINKER'S GOOD FORTUNE.

[Pg iii]

CONTENTS.

[Pg v]

ILLUSTRATIONS.

[Pg 1]

THE BOY'S
BOOK OF BALLADS.

Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne.

When shaws[1] be sheen,[2] and swards full fair,
And leaves both large and long,
It is merry walking in the fair forest
To hear the small birds' song.

The woodweel[3] sang, and would not cease,
Sitting upon the spray,
So loud, he wakened Robin Hood,
In the greenwood where he lay.

[Pg 2]Now by my faith, said jolly Robin,
A sweaven[4] I had this night;
I dreamt me of two wight[5] yeomen
That fast with me can fight.

Methought they did me beat and bind,
And took my bow me fro';
If I be Robin alive in this land,
I'll be wroken[6] on them two.

Sweavens are swift, master, quoth John,
As the wind that blows o'er a hill;
For if it be never so loud this night,
To-morrow it may be still.

Busk ye, bowne[7] ye, my merry men all,
And John shall go with me,
For I'll go seek yon wight yeomen,
In the greenwood where they be.

[Pg 3]Then they cast on their gowns of green,
And took their bows each one,
And they away to the green forèst,
A shooting forth are gone;

Until they came to the merry greenwood,
Where they had gladdest be,
There were they aware of a wight yeoman,
His body leaned to a tree.

A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,
Of many a man the bane;
And he was clad in his capull[8] hide
Top and tail and mane.

Stand you still, master, quoth Little John,
Under this tree so green,
And I will go to yon wight yeoman
To know what he doth mean.
[Pg 4]

Ah! John, by me thou settest no store,
And that I fairly find;
How oft send I my men before,
And tarry myself behind?

It is no cunning a knave to ken,
An[9] a man but hear him speak;
An it were not for bursting of my bow,
John, I thy head would break.

As often words they breeden bale,[10]
So they parted, Robin and John;
And John is gone to Barnesdale:
The gates[11] he knoweth each one.

But when he came to Barnesdale,
Great heaviness there he had,
For he found two of his own fellows
Were slain both in a glade.

[Pg 5]And Scarlett he was flying a-foot
Fast over stock and stone,
For the proud sheriff with seven score men
Fast after him is gone.

One shot now I will shoot, quoth John,
(With Christe his might and main;)
I'll make yon fellow that flies so fast,
To stop he shall be fain.

Then John bent up his long bende-bow,
And fettled[12] him to shoot:
The bow was made of tender bough,
And fell down to his foot.

Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,
That ere thou grew on a tree;
For now this day thou art my bale,
My boote[13] when thou shouldst be.

[Pg 6]His shoot it was but loosely shot,
Yet flew not the arrow in vain,
For it met one of the sheriff's men,—
Good William-a-Trent was slain.

It had been better for William-a-Trent
To have been a-bed with sorrow,
Than to be that day in the greenwood glade
To meet with Little John's arrow.

But as it is said, when men be met,
Five can do more than three,
The sheriff hath taken Little John,
And bound him fast to a tree.

Thou shalt be drawn by dale and down,
And hang'd high on a hill.
But thou mayst fail of thy purpose, quoth John,
If it be Christe his will.

[Pg 7] Let us leave talking of Little John,
And think of Robin Hood,
How he is gone to the wight yeoman,
Where under the leaves he stood.

Good morrow, good fellow, said Robin so fair,
Good morrow, good fellow, quoth he:
Methinks by this bow thou bear'st in thy hand,
A good archer thou shouldst be.

I am wilful[14] of my way, quo' the yeoman,
And of my morning tide.
I'll lead thee through the wood, said Robin;
Good fellow, I'll be thy guide.

I seek an outlaw, the stranger said,
Men call him Robin Hood;
Rather I'd meet with that proud outlaw
Than forty pounds so good.
[Pg 8]

Now come with me, thou wighty yeoman,
And Robin thou soon shalt see:
But first let us some pastime find
Under the greenwood tree.

First let us some mastery make
Among the woods so even,
We may chance to meet with Robin Hood
Here at some unset[15] steven.

They cut them down two summer shoggs,[16]
That grew both under a briar,
And set them threescore rod, in twain,
To shoot the pricks[17] y-fere.[18]

Lead on, good fellow, quoth Robin Hood,
Lead on, I do bid thee.
Nay by my faith, good fellow, he said,
My leader thou shalt be.

[Pg 9]The first time Robin shot at the prick,
He miss'd but an inch it fro';
The yeoman he was an archer good,
But he could never shoot so.

The second shoot had the wighty yeoman,
He shot within the garlànd;[19]
But Robin he shot far better than he,
For he clave the good prick-wand.

A blessing upon thy heart, he said;
Good fellow, thy shooting is good;
For an thy heart be as good as thy hand,
Thou wert better than Robin Hood.

Now tell me thy name, good fellow, said he,
Under the leaves of lyne.[20]
Nay, by my faith, quoth bold Robin,
Till thou have told me thine.

[Pg 10]I dwell by dale and down, quoth he,
And Robin to take I'm sworn;
And when I am called by my right name,
I am Guy of good Gisbòrne.

My dwelling is in this wood, says Robin,
By thee I set right nought:
I am Robin Hood of Barnèsdale,
Whom thou so long hast sought.

He that had neither been kith nor kin,
Might have seen a full fair sight,
To see how together these yeomen went
With blades both brown and bright.

To see how these yeomen together they fought
Two hours of a summer's day:
Yet neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy
Them fettled to fly away.

ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.

[Pg 11]

[Pg 17]

The Childe[26] of Elle.

[26]

On yonder hill a castle stands,
With walls and towers bedight,[27]
And yonder lives the Childe of Elle,
A young and comely knight.

The Childe of Elle to his garden went,
And stood at his garden-pale,
When, lo! he beheld fair Emmeline's page
Come tripping down the dale.

The Childe of Elle he hied him thence,
I wist he stood not still,
And soon he met fair Emmeline's page
Come climbing up the hill.

[Pg 18]Now Christe thee save, thou little foot-page,
Now Christe thee save and see!
Oh tell me how does thy lady gay,
And what may thy tidings be?

My lady she is all woe-begone,
And the tears they fall from her eyne;[28]
And aye she laments the deadly feud
Between her house and thine.

And here she sends thee a silken scarf
Bedewed with many a tear,
And bids thee sometimes think on her,
Who lovèd thee so dear.

And here she sends thee a ring of gold,
The last boon thou may'st have,
And bids thee wear it for her sake,
When she is laid in grave.
[Pg 19]

For, ah! her gentle heart is broke,
And in grave soon must she be,
For her father hath chose her a new love,
And forbid her to think of thee.

Her father hath brought her a carlish[29] knight,
Sir John of the north countrey,
And within three days she must him wed,
Or he vows he will her slay.

Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,
And greet thy lady from me,
And tell her that I, her own true love,
Will die, or set her free.

Now hie thee back, thou little foot-page,
And let thy fair lady know,
This night will I be at her bower-window,
Betide me weal or woe.
[Pg 20]

The boy he tripped, the boy he ran,
He neither stint[30] nor stay'd
Until he came to fair Emmeline's bower,
When, kneeling down, he said,

O lady, I've been with thine own true love,
And he greets thee well by me;
This night will he be at thy bower-window,
And die or set thee free.

Now day was gone, and night was come,
And all were fast asleep,
All save the lady Emmeline,
Who sate in her bower to weep:

And soon she heard her true love's voice
Low whispering at the wall;
Awake, awake, my dear lady,
'Tis I, thy true love, call.
[Pg 21]

Awake, awake, my lady dear,
Come, mount this fair palfrey:
This ladder of ropes will let thee down,
I'll carry thee hence away.

Now nay, now nay, thou gentle knight,
Now nay, this may not be;
For aye should I tint[31] my maiden fame,
If alone I should wend[32] with thee.

O lady, thou with a knight so true
May'st safely wend alone;
To my lady mother I will thee bring,
Where marriage shall make us one.

My father he is a baron bold,
Of lineage proud and high;
And what would he say if his daughter
Away with a knight should fly?

[Pg 22]Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,
Nor his meat should do him no good,
Till he had slain thee, Childe of Elle,
And seen thy dear heart's blood.

O lady, wert thou in thy saddle set,
And a little space him fro',
I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that he could do.

O lady, wert thou in thy saddle set,
And once without this wall,
I would not care for thy cruel father,
Nor the worst that might befall.

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And aye her heart was woe:
At length he seized her lily-white hand,
And down the ladder he drew:

[Pg 23] And thrice he clasped her to his breast,
And kissed her tenderly:
The tears that fell from her fair eyes,
Ran like the fountain free.

He mounted himself on his steed so tall,
And her on a fair palfrey,
And slung his bugle about his neck,
And roundly they rode away.

All this beheard her own damsel,
In her bed wherein she lay;
Quoth she, My lord shall know of this,
So I shall have gold and fee.

Awake, awake, thou baron bold!
Awake, my noble dame!
Your daughter is fled with the Childe of Elle,
To do the deed of shame.

[Pg 24] The baron he woke, the baron he rose,
And called his merry men all:
And come thou forth, Sir John the knight,
Thy lady is carried to thrall.

Fair Emmeline scarce had ridden a mile,
A mile forth of the town,
When she was aware of her father's men
Come galloping over the down:

And foremost came the carlish knight,
Sir John of the north countrey:
Now stop, now stop, thou false traitor,
Nor carry that lady away.

For she is come of high lineage,
And was of a lady born,
And ill it beseems thee, a false churl's son,
To carry her hence to scorn.

[Pg 25] Now loud thou liest, Sir John the knight,
Now thou dost lie of me;
A knight me got, and a lady me bore,
So never did none by thee.

But light now down, my lady fair,
Light down, and hold my steed,
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try this arduous deed.

But light now down, my dear lady,
Light down, and hold my horse;
While I and this discourteous knight
Do try our valour's force.

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline
And aye her heart was woe,
While 'twixt her love and the carlish knight
Past many a baleful blow.

[Pg 26] The Childe of Elle he fought so well,
As his weapon he waved amain,
That soon he had slain the carlish knight,
And laid him upon the plain.

And now the baron and all his men
Full fast approached nigh:
Ah! what may lady Emmeline do!
'Twere now no boote[33] to fly.

Her lover he put his horn to his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill,
And soon he saw his own merry men
Come riding over the hill.

Now hold thy hand, thou bold baron,
I pray thee, hold thy hand,
Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,
Fast knit in true love's band.
[Pg 27]

Thy daughter I have dearly loved
Full long and many a day;
But with such love as holy kirk
Hath freely said we may.

O give consent she may be mine,
And bless a faithful pair:
My lands and livings are not small,
My house and lineage fair:

My mother she was an earl's daughter,
And a noble knight my sire—
The baron he frowned, and turned away
With mickle[34] dole and ire.

Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept,
And did all trembling stand:
At length she sprang upon her knee,
And held his lifted hand.
[Pg 28]

Pardon, my lord and father dear,
This fair young knight and me:
Trust me, but for the carlish knight,
I never had fled from thee.

Oft have you called your Emmeline
Your darling and your joy;
O let not then your harsh resolves
Your Emmeline destroy.

The baron he stroked his dark-brown cheek,
And turned his head aside
To wipe away the starting tear
He proudly strove to hide.

In deep revolving thought he stood,
And mused a little space:
Then raised fair Emmeline from the ground,
With many a fond embrace.

THE CHILD OF ELLE.

[Pg 29]

[Pg 30]

Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough,[35] and William of Cloudesly.

[35] 

PART THE FIRST.

Merry it was in the green forèst
Among the leavès green,
Wherein men hunt east and west
With bows and arrows keen;

To raise the deer out of their den;
Such sights hath oft been seen;
As by three yeomen of the north countrèy,
By them it is I mean.
[Pg 31]

The one of them hight[36] Adam Bell,
The other Clym of the Clough,
The third was William of Cloudesly,
An archer good enough.

They were outlawed for venison,
These yeomen everyone;
They swore together upon a day,
To English wood to be gone.

Now lithe and listen, gentlemen,
That of mirth loveth to hear:
Two of them were single men,
The third had a wedded fere.[37]

William was the wedded man,
Much more then was his care:
He said to his brethren upon a day,
To Carlisle he would fare,[38]

[Pg 32]For to speak with fair Alice his wife,
And with his children three.
By my troth, said Adam Bell,
Not by the counsel of me:

For if ye go to Carlisle, brother,
And from this wild wood wend,
If that the justice should you take,
Your life were at an end.

If that I come not to-morrow, brother,
By pryme[39] to you again,
Trust you then that I am taken
Or else that I am slain.

He took his leave of his brethren two,
And to Carlisle he is gone:
There he knock'd at his own window
Shortly and anon.
[Pg 33]

Where be you, fair Alice, he said,
My wife and children three?
Lightly let in thine own husbànd,
William of Cloudesly.

Alas! then said fair Alice,
And sighed wondrous sore,
This place hath been beset for you
This half a year and more.

Now am I here, said Cloudesly,
I would that in I were:
Now fetch us meat and drink enough,
And let us make good cheer.

She fetched him meat and drink plenty,
Like a true wedded wife;
And pleased him with that she had,
Whom she loved as her life.

[Pg 34] There lay an old wife in that place,
A little beside the fire,
Which William had found of charity
More than seven year.

Up she rose, and forth she goes,
Evil may she speed therefore;
For she had set no foot on ground
In seven year before.

She went unto the justice hall,
As fast as she could hie:
This night, she said, is come to town
William of Cloudesly.

Thereat the justice was full fayne,[40]
And so was the sheriff also:
Thou shalt not travel hither, dame, for nought;
Thy meed thou shalt have ere thou go.
[Pg 35]

They gave to her a right good gown
Of scarlet, and of grain:[41]
She took the gift, and home she went,
And couched her down again.

They raised the town of merry Carlisle
In all the haste they can;
And came thronging to William's house,
As fast as they might ran.

There they beset that good yeomàn
Round about on every side:
William heard great noise of folks
That thither-ward fast hied.

Alice opened a back windòw
And looked all about,
She was 'ware of the justice and sheriff both,
And with them a great rout.
[Pg 36]

Alas! treason, cried Alice,
Ever woe may thou be!
Go into my chamber, husband, she said,
Sweet William of Cloudesly.

He took his sword and his buckler,
His bow and his children three,
And went into his strongest chamber,
Where he thought surest to be.

Fair Alice, like a lover true,
Took a pollaxe in her hand:
Said, He shall die that cometh in
This door, while I may stand.

Cloudesly bent a right good bow,
That was of a trusty tree,
He smote the justice on the breast,
That his arrow burst in three.

WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLY.

[Pg 37]

PART THE SECOND.

And when they came to merry Carlisle,
All in the morning tide,
They found the gates shut them against
About on every side.

Alas! then said good Adam Bell,
That ever we were made men!
These gates he shut so wondrous fast,
We may not come therein.
[Pg 44]

Then bespake him Clym of the Clough,
With a wile we will us in bring;
Let us say we be messengers,
Straight come now from our king.

Adam said, I have a letter written,
Now let us wisely work,
We will say we have the king's seal;
I hold the porter no clerk.

Then Adam Bell beat on the gates
With strokes great and strong,
The porter marvelled who was there,
And to the gates he throng.[49]

Who is there now, said the porter,
That maketh all this knocking?
We be two messengers, quoth Clym of the Clough,
Be come right from our king.
[Pg 45]

We have a letter, said Adam Bell,
To the justice we must it bring;
Let us in our message to do,
That we may again to the king.

Here cometh none in, said the porter,
By him that died on a tree,
Till a false thief be hanged up,
Called William of Cloudesly.

Then spake the good yeoman, Clym of the Clough,
And swore by Mary free,
And if that we stand long without,
Like a thief hanged thou shalt be.

Lo! here we have the king's seal:
What, Lurden,[50] art thou wood?[51]
The porter thought it had been so,
And lightly did off his hood.

[Pg 46]Welcome is my lord's seal, he said;
For that ye shall come in.
He opened the gate full shortly;
An evil opening for him.

Now are we in, said Adam Bell,
Whereof we are full fain;
But Christ he knowes, that harrowed hell,
How we shall come out again.

Had we the keys, said Clym of the Clough,
Right well then should we speed,
Then might we come out well enough
When we see time and need.

They called the porter to counsel,
And wrung his neck in two,
And cast him in a deep dungeon,
And took his keys him fro'.

[Pg 47] Now am I porter, said Adam Bell,
See, brother, the keys are here,
The worst porter to merry Carlisle
That they had this hundred year.

And now will we our bows bend,
Into the town will we go,
For to deliver our dear brother,
That lyeth in care and woe.

Then they bent their good yew bows,
And looked their strings were round,
The market place in merry Carlisle
They beset that stound.[52]

And, as they looked them beside,
A pair of new gallows they see,
And the justice with a quest of squires,
Had judged William hanged to be.
[Pg 48]

And Cloudesly lay ready there in a cart,
Fast bound both foot and hand;
And a strong rope about his neck,
All ready for to hang.

The justice called to him a lad,
Cloudesly's clothes he should have,
To take the measure of that yeoman,
Thereafter to make his grave.

I have seen as great marvel, said Cloudesly,
As between this and pryme,[53]
He that maketh a grave for me
Himself may lie therein.

Thou speakest proudly, said the justice,
I will thee hang with my hand.
Full well heard this his brethren two,
There still as they did stand.
[Pg 49]

Then Cloudesly cast his eyes aside,
And saw his brethren twain
At a corner of the market place,
Ready the justice for to slain.

I see comfort, said Cloudesly,
Yet hope I well to fare,
If I might have my hands at will
Right little would I care.

Then spake good Adam Bell
To Clym of the Clough so free,
Brother, see you mark the justice well;
Lo! yonder you may him see:

And at the sheriff shoot I will
Strongly with arrow keen;
A better shot in merry Carlisle
This seven year was not seen.

[Pg 50] They loosed their arrows both at once,
Of no man had they dread;
The one hit the justice, the other the sheriff,
That both their sides 'gan bleed.

All men 'voided, that them stood nigh,
When the justice fell to the ground,
And the sheriff nigh him by;
Either had his death's wound.

All the citizens fast began to fly,
They durst no longer abide:
There lightly they loosed Cloudesly,
Where he with ropes lay tied.

William start to an officer of the town,
His axe from his hand he wrung,
On each side he smote them down,
He thought he tarried too long.

[Pg 51] William said to his brethren two,
This day let us live and die,
If ever you have need, as I have now,
The same shall you find by me.

They shot so well in that tide,
Their strings were of silk full sure,
That they kept the streets on every side;
That battle did long endure.

They fought together as brethren true,
Like hardy men and bold,
Many a man to the ground they threw,
And many a heart made cold.

But when their arrows were all gone,
Men pressed to them full fast,
They drew their swords then anon,
And their bows from them cast.

[Pg 52] They went lightly on their way,
With swords and bucklers round;
By that it was mid of the day,
They made many a wound.

There was many an out-horn[54] in Carlisle blown,
And the bells backward did ring,
Many a woman said, Alas!
And many their hands did wring.

The mayor of Carlisle forth was come,
With him a full great rout:
These yeomen dreaded him full sore,
Of their lives they stood in doubt.

The mayor came armed at full great pace,
With a pollaxe in his hand;
Many a strong man with him was,
There in that stowre[55] to stand.

[Pg 53]The mayor smote at Cloudesly with his bill,
His buckler he burst in two,
Full many a yeoman with great evil,
Alas! Treason they cried for woe.
Keep well the gates fast, they bade,
That these traitors thereout not go.

But all for nought was that they wrought,
For so fast they down were laid,
Till they all three, that so manfully fought,
Were gotten without, abroad.

Have here your keys, said Adam Bell,
Mine office I here forsake,
And if you do by my counsel
A new porter do ye make.

[Pg 54] He threw their keys at their heads,
And bade them well to thrive,
And all that letteth[56] any good yeoman
To come and comfort his wife.

Thus be these good yeomen gone to the wood,
And lightly, as leaf on lynde;[57]
To laugh and be merry in their mood,
Their enemies were far behind.

And when they came to English wood,
Under the trusty tree,
There they found bows full good,
And arrows full great plenty.

So God me help, said Adam Bell,
And Clym of the Clough so free,
I would we were in merry Carlisle,
Before that fair meynye.[58]

[Pg 55]They sate them down, and made good cheer,
And ate and drank full well.
A second FYT of the wighty yeomen,
Another I will you tell.

PART THE THIRD.

As they sat in the merry green wood,
Under the green-wood tree,
They thought they heard a woman weep,
But her they mought[59] not see.

Sore then sighed the fair Alice:
That ever I saw this day!
For now is my dear husband slain:
Alas! and well-a-way!
[Pg 56]

Might I have spoken to his dear brethren,
Or with either of them twain,
To show to them what him befell,
My heart were out of pain.

Cloudesly walked a little beside,
He looked under the green-wood lynde;
He was aware of his wife, and children three,
Full woe in heart and mind.

Welcome, wife, then said William,
Under this trusty tree:
I had ween'd yesterday, by sweet saint John,
Thou shouldst me never have see.

Now well is me that ye be here,
My heart is out of woe;
Dame, he said, be merry and glad,
And thank my brethren two.

[Pg 57] Hereof to speak, said Adam Bell,
I think it is no boot:
The meat, that we must sup withal,
It runneth yet fast on foot.

Then went they down into a lawn,
These noble archers all three;
Each of them slew a hart of grease,[60]
The best that they could see.

Have here the best, Alice my wife,
Said William of Cloudesly;
Because ye so boldly stood by me
When I was slain full nigh.

Then went they all into supper
With such meat as they had;
And thanked God of their fortune:
They were both merry and glad.
[Pg 58]

And when they all had supped well,
Certainly without lease,[61]
Cloudesly said, We will to our king,
To get us a charter of peace.

Alice shall be at our sojourning
In a nunnery here beside;
My two sons shall with her go,
And there they shall abide.

Mine eldest son shall go with me;
For him have you no care:
And he shall bring you word again,
How that we do fare.

Thus be these yeomen to London gone,
As fast as they might hie,
Till they came to the king's palace,
Where they would needs be.
[Pg 59]

And when they came to the king's court,
Unto the palace gate,
Of no man would they ask no leave,
But boldly went in thereat.

They pressed prestly[62] into the hall,
Of no man had they dread:
The porter came after, and did them call,
And with them began to chide.

The usher said, Yeoman, what would ye have?
I pray you tell to me:
You might thus make officers shent:[63]
Good sirs, of whence be ye?

Sir, we be outlaws of the forest
Certainly without lease;
And hither we be come to our king,
To get us a charter of peace.

[Pg 60]And when they came before the king,
As it was the law of the land,
They kneeled down without hindrance,
And each held up his hand.

They said, Lord, we beseech thee here,
That you will grant us grace;
For we have slain your fat fallow deer
In many a sundry place.

What be your names, then said our king,
Anon that you tell me?
They said, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough,
And William of Cloudesly.

Be ye those thieves, then said our king,
That men have told of to me?
Here to God I make a vow,
Ye shall be hanged all three.

ADAM BELL AND CLYM OF THE CLOUGH.

[Pg 61]

[Pg 74]

Sir Lancelot du Lake.

When Arthur first in court began,
And was approved king,
By force of arms great victories won,
And conquest home did bring.

Then into England straight he came
With fifty good and able
Knights, that resorted unto him,
And were of his round table:

And he had jousts and tournaments,
Whereto were many prest,
Wherein some knights did far excell
And far surmount the rest.

[Pg 75] But one, Sir Lancelot du Lake,
Who was approved well,
He for his deeds and feats of arms,
All others did excell.

When he had rested him a while,
In play, and game, and sport,
He said he would go prove himself
In some adventurous sort.

He armed rode in forest wide,
And met a damsel fair,
Who told him of adventures great,
Whereto he gave good ear.

Such would I find, quoth Lancelot:
For that cause came I hither.
Thou seem'st, quoth she, a knight full good,
And I will bring thee thither,

[Pg 76] Whereas a mighty knight doth dwell,
That now is of great fame:
Therefore tell me what wight thou art,
And what may be thy name.

My name is Lancelot du Lake.
Quoth she, it likes me then:
Here dwells a knight who never was
Yet matcht with any man:

Who has in prison threescore knights
And four, that he did wound;
Knights of king Arthur's court they be,
And of his table round.

She brought him to a river side,
And also to a tree,
Whereon a copper bason hung,
And many shields to see.

SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE.

[Pg 77]

[Pg 82]

The Frolicksome Duke; or, The Tinker's Good Fortune.

Now as fame does report, a young duke keeps a court,
One that pleases his fancy with frolicksome sport:
But amongst all the rest, here is one I protest,
Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest:
A poor tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground,
As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound.

[Pg 83] The duke said to his men, William, Richard, and Ben,
Take him home to my palace, we'll sport with him then.
O'er a horse he was laid, and with care soon convey'd
To the palace, altho' he was poorly array'd:
Then they stript off his clothes, both his shirt, shoes, and hose,
And they put him to bed for to take his repose.

Having pull'd off his shirt, which was all over dirt,
They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt:
On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown,
They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his crown.
In the morning when day, then admiring he lay,
For to see the rich chamber both gaudy and gay.

[Pg 84] Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state,
Till at last knights and squires, they on him did wait;
And the chamberlain bare,[80] then did likewise declare,
He desir'd to know what apparel he'd wear:
The poor tinker amaz'd, on the gentleman gaz'd,
And admired[81] how he to this honour was rais'd.

THE FROLICSOME DUKE, OR THE TINKER'S GOOD FORTUNE.

[Pg 89]

The More Modern Ballad of Chevy Chase.

God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;
A woful hunting once there did
In Chevy Chase befall;

To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Earl Percy took his way;
The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day.

The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer days to take;

[Pg 90] The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase
To kill and bear away.
These tidings to Earl Douglas came,
In Scotland where he lay:

Who sent Earl Percy present word,
He would prevent his sport.
The English earl, not fearing that,
Did to the woods resort

With fifteen hundred bow-men bold;
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need
To aim their shafts aright.

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deer:
On Monday they began to hunt,
Ere day-light did appear;

[Pg 91] And long before high noon they had
An hundred fat bucks slain;
Then having din'd, the drovers went
To rouse the deer again.

The bow-men mustered on the hills,
Well able to endure;
Their backsides all, with special care,
That day were guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,
The nimble deer to take,
That with their cries the hills and dales
An echo shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went,
To view the slaughter'd deer;
Quoth he, Earl Douglas promisèd
This day to meet me here:

[Pg 92] But if I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay.
With that, a brave young gentleman
Thus to the earl did say:

Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight;

All men of pleasant Teviotdale,
Fast by the river Tweed:
O cease your sport, Earl Percy said,
And take your bows with speed:

And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance;
For never was there champion yet
In Scotland or in France,

[Pg 93] That ever did on horseback come,
But if my hap it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear.

Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of his company,
Whose armour shone like gold.

Show me, said he, whose men you be,
That hunt so boldly here,
That, without my consent, do chase
And kill my fallow-deer?

The man that first did answer make,
Was noble Percy he;
Who said, We list not to declare,
Nor show whose men we be:

[Pg 94] Yet will we spend our dearest blood,
Thy chiefest harts to slay.
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say,

Ere thus will I out-braved be,
One of us two shall die:
I know thee well, an earl thou art,
Lord Percy; so am I.

But trust me, Percy, pity 'twere,
And great offence to kill
Any of these our guiltless men,
For they have done no ill.

Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside.
Accurst be he, Earl Percy said,
By whom this is denied.

[Pg 95] Then stept a gallant squire forth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, I would not have it told
To Henry our king for shame,

That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stood looking on.
You be two earls, said Witherington,
And I a squire alone:

I'll do the best that do I may,
While I have power to stand:
While I have power to wield my sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand.

Our English archers bent their bows,
Their hearts were good and true;
At the first flight of arrows sent,
Full four-score Scots they slew.

[Pg 96] Yet bides Earl Douglas on the bent[82]
As Chieftain stout and good,
As valiant Captain, all unmov'd
The shock he firmly stood.

His host he parted had in three,
As leader ware and try'd,
And soon his spearmen on their foes
Bore down on every side.

Throughout the English archery
They dealt full many a wound:
But still our valiant Englishmen
All firmly kept their ground:

And throwing straight their bows away,
They grasp'd their swords so bright:
And now sharp blows, a heavy shower,
On shields and helmets light.
[Pg 97]

They clos'd full fast on every side,
No slackness there was found;
And many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.

O Christ! it was a grief to see,
And likewise for to hear,
The cries of men lying in their gore,
And scattered here and there.

At last these two stout earls did meet,
Like captains of great might:
Like lions wood,[83] they laid on loud,
And made a cruel fight:

They fought until they both did sweat,
With swords of tempered steel;
Until the blood, like drops of rain,
They trickling down did feel.
[Pg 98]

Yield thee, Lord Percy, Douglas said;
In faith I will thee bring,
Where thou shalt high advanced be
By James our Scottish king:

Thy ransom I will freely give,
And thus report of thee,
Thou art the most courageous knight,
That ever I did see.

No, Douglas, quoth Earl Percy then,
Thy proffer I do scorn;
I will not yield to any Scot,
That ever yet was born.

With that, there came an arrow keen
Out of an English bow,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,
A deep and deadly blow:

CHEVY CHASE. EARL PERCY, AND EARL DOUGLAS.

[Pg 99]

[Pg 106]

King Edward the Fourth and the Tanner of Tamworth.

In summer time, when leaves grow green,
And blossoms bedeck the tree,
King Edward would a hunting ride,
Some pastime for to see.

With hawk and hound he made him bowne,[85]
With horn, and eke with bow;
To Drayton Basset he took his way,
With all his lords in a row.

And he had ridden o'er dale and down
By eight of clock in the day,
When he was 'ware of a bold tannèr,
Come riding along the way.
[Pg 107]

A fair russet coat the tanner had on
Fast buttoned under his chin,
And under him a good cow-hide,
And a mare of four shilling.[86]

Now stand you still, my good lords all,
Under the greenwood spray;
And I will wend to yonder fellow,
To weet[87] what he will say.

God speed, God speed thee, said our king.
Thou art welcome, sir, said he.
The readiest way to Drayton Basset
I pray thee to show to me.

To Drayton Basset wouldst thou go,
Fro' the place where thou dost stand?
The next pair of gallows thou comest unto,
Turn in upon thy right hand.

[Pg 108]That is an unready way, said our king,
Thou dost but jest I see;
Now show me out the nearest way,
And I pray thee wend with me.

Away with a vengeance! quoth the tanner:
I hold thee out of thy wit:
All day have I ridden on Brock my mare,
And I am fasting yet.

Go with me down to Drayton Basset,
No dainties we will spare;
All day shalt thou eat and drink of the best,
And I will pay thy fare.

Gramercy for nothing, the tanner replied,
Thou payest no fare of mine:
I trow I've more nobles in my purse,
Than thou hast pence in thine.

[Pg 109] God give thee joy of them, said the king,
And send them well to priefe.[88]
The tanner would fain have been away,
For he weened he had been a thief.

Who art thou, he said, thou fine fellòw,
Of thee I am in great fear,
For the clothes thou wearest upon thy back,
Might beseem a lord to wear.

I never stole them, quoth our king,
I tell you, sir, by the rood,
Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth
And standest in midst of thy good.[89]

What tidings hear you, said the king,
As you ride far and near?
I hear no tidings, sir, by the mass,
But that cow-hides are dear.

[Pg 110]Cow-hides! cow-hides! what things are those?
I marvel what they be!
What art thou a fool? the tanner replied;
I carry one under me.

What craftsman art thou? said the king,
I pray thee tell me true.
I am a barker,[90] sir, by my trade;
Now tell me what art thou?

I am a poor courtier, sir, quoth he,
That am forth of service worn;
And fain I would thy prentice be,
Thy cunning for to learn.

Marry heaven forfend, the tanner replied,
That thou my prentice were:
Thou wouldst spend more good than I should win
By forty shilling a year.
[Pg 111]

Yet one thing would I, said our king,
If thou wilt not seem strange:
Though my horse be better than thy mare,
Yet with thee I fain would change.

Why if with me thou fain wilt change,
As change full well may we,
By the faith of my body, thou proud fellòw,
I will have some boot of thee.

That were against reason, said the king,
I swear, so mote I thee:[91]
My horse is better than thy mare,
And that thou well mayst see.

Yea, sir, but Brock is gentle and mild,
And softly she will fare:
Thy horse is unruly and wild, I wiss;
Aye skipping here and there.
[Pg 112]

What boot wilt thou have? our king replied,
Now tell me in this stound.
No pence, nor half-pence, by my faith,
But a noble in gold so round.

Here's twenty groats of white money,
Sith thou will have it of me.
I would have sworn now, quoth the tanner,
Thou hadst not had one penny.

But since we two have made a change,
A change we must abide,
Although thou hast gotten Brock my mare,
Thou gettest not my cow-hide.

I will not have it, said the king,
I swear, so mote I thee;
Thy foul cow-hide I would not bear,
If thou wouldst give it to me.

[Pg 113] The tanner he took his good cow-hide,
That of the cow was hilt;[92]
And threw it upon the king's saddle,
That was so fairly gilt.

Now help me up, thou fine fellow,
'Tis time that I were gone;
When I come home to Gyllian my wife,
She'll say I am a gentleman.

When the tanner he was in the king's saddle,
And his foot in the stirrup was;
He marvelled greatly in his mind,
Whether it were gold or brass.

But when his steed saw the cow's tail wag,
And eke the black cow-horn;
He stamped, and stared, and away he ran,
As the devil had him borne.
[Pg 114]

The tanner he pulled, the tanner he sweat,
And held by the pummel fast,
At length the tanner came tumbling down;
His neck he had well-nigh brast.[93]

Take thy horse again with a vengeance, he said,
With me he shall not bide.
My horse would have borne thee well enough,
But he knew not of thy cow-hide.

Yet if again thou fain wouldst change,
As change full well may we,
By the faith of my body, thou jolly tannèr,
I will have some boot of thee.

What boot wilt thou have, the tanner replied,
Now tell me in this stound?[94]
No pence, nor half-pence, sir, by my faith,
But I will have twenty pound.

KING EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH.

[Pg 115]

[Pg 118]

The Heir of Linne.

PART THE FIRST.

Lithe[98] and listen, gentlemen,
To sing a song I will begin:
It is of a lord of fair Scotland,
Which was the unthrifty heir of Linne.

His father was a right good lord,
His mother a lady of high degree;
But they, alas! were dead, him fro',
And he lov'd keeping company.

To spend the day with merry cheer,
To drink and revel every night,
To card and dice from eve to morn,
It was, I ween, his heart's delight.
[Pg 119]

To ride, to run, to rant, to roar,
To alway spend and never spare,
I know, an' it were the king himself,
Of gold and fee he might be bare.

So fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
Till all his gold is gone and spent;
And he maun sell his lands so broad,
His house, and lands, and all his rent.

His father had a keen stewàrd,
And John o' the Scales was called he:
But John is become a gentleman,
And John has got both gold and fee.

Says, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
Let nought disturb thy merry cheer;
If thou wilt sell thy lands so broad,
Good store of gold I'll give thee here.

[Pg 120] My gold is gone, my money is spent;
My land now take it unto thee:
Give me the gold, good John o' the Scales,
And thine for aye my land shall be.

Then John he did him to record draw,
And John he cast him a gods-pennie;[99]
But for every pound that John agreed,
The land, I wis, was well worth three.

He told him the gold upon the board,
He was right glad his land to win;
The gold is thine, the land is mine,
And now I'll be the lord of Linne.

Thus he hath sold his land so broad,
Both hill and holt,[100] and moor and fen,
All but a poor and lonesome lodge,
That stood far off in a lonely glen.

[Pg 121]For so he to his father hight,[101]
My son, when I am gone, said he,
Then thou wilt spend thy land so broad,
And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:

But swear me now upon the cross,
That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;
For when all the world doth frown on thee,
Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.

The heir of Linne is full of gold:
And come with me, my friends, said he,
Let's drink, and rant, and merry make,
And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.[102]

They ranted, drank, and merry made,
Till all his gold it waxed thin;
And then his friends they slunk away;
They left the unthrifty heir of Linne.

[Pg 122]He had never a penny left in his purse,
Never a penny left but three,
And one was brass, another was lead,
And another it was white monèy.

Now well-a-day, said the heir of Linne,
Now well-a-day, and woe is me,
For when I was the lord of Linne,
I never wanted gold nor fee.

But many a trusty friend have I,
And why should I feel grief or care?
I'll borrow of them all by turns,
So need I not be never bare.

But one, I wis, was not at home;
Another had paid his gold away;
Another called him thriftless loon,
And bade him sharply wend his way.

[Pg 123] Now well-a-day, said the heir of Linne,
Now well-a-day, and woe is me;
For when I had my lands so broad,
On me they liv'd right merrily.

To beg my bread from door to door
I wis, it were a burning shame:
To rob and steal it were a sin:
To work my limbs I cannot frame.

Now I'll away to lonesome lodge,
For there my father bade me wend;
When all the world should frown on me,
I there should find a trusty friend.
[Pg 124]

PART THE SECOND.

Away then hied the heir of Linne
O'er hill and holt, and moor and fen,
Until he came to lonesome lodge,
That stood so low in a lonely glen.

He looked up, he looked down,
In hope some comfort for to win:
But bare and loathly were the walls.
Here's sorry cheer, quo' the heir of Linne.

The little window dim and dark
Was hung with ivy, brier, and yew;
No shimmering sun here ever shone;
No wholesome breeze here ever blew.

[Pg 125] No chair nor table he mote spy,
No cheerful hearth, no welcome bed,
Nought save a rope with running noose
That dangling hung up o'er his head.

And over it in broad lettèrs,
These words were written plain to see:
"Ah! graceless wretch, hast spent thine all,
And brought thyself to penury?

"All this my boding mind misgave,
I therefore left this trusty friend:
Let it now shield thy foul disgrace,
And all thy shame and sorrows end."

Sorely shent[103] wi' this rebuke,
Sorely shent was the heir of Linne;
His heart, I wis, was near to burst
With guilt and sorrow, shame and sin.
[Pg 126]

Never a word spake the heir of Linne,
Never a word he spake but three:
This is a trusty friend indeed,
And is right welcome unto me.

Then round his neck the cord he drew,
And sprang aloft with his body:
When lo! the ceiling burst in twain,
And to the ground came tumbling he.

Astonished lay the heir of Linne,
Nor knew if he were live or dead:
At length he looked, and saw a bill,[104]
And in it a key of gold so red.

He took the bill, and looked it on,
Straight good comfort found he there:
It told him of a hole in the wall,
In which there stood three chests in-fere.[105]

[Pg 127]Two were full of the beaten gold,
The third was full of white monèy;
And over them in broad lettèrs
These words were written so plain to see:

"Once more, my son, I set thee clear;
Amend thy life and follies past;
For but thou amend thee of thy life,
That rope must be thy end at last."

And let it be, said the heir of Linne;
And let it be, but[106] if I amend:
For here I will make my vow,
This reade[107] shall guide me to the end.

Away then went with a merry cheer,
Away then went the heir of Linne;
I wis, he neither ceas'd nor blanne,[108]
Till John o' the Scales' house he did win.

[Pg 128]And when he came to John o' the Scales,
Up at the speere[109] then looked he;
There sat three lords upon a row,
Were drinking of the wine so free.

And John himself sat at the board-head,
Because now lord of Linne was he.
I pray thee, he said, good John o' the Scales,
One forty pence, for to lend me.

Away, away, thou thriftless loon;
Away, away, this may not be;
For Christ's curse on my head, he said,
If ever I trust thee one pennie.

Then bespake the heir of Linne,
To John o' the Scales' wife then spake he:
Madame, some alms on me bestow,
I pray for sweet saint Charity.
[Pg 129]

Away, away, thou thriftless loon,
I swear thou gettest no alms of me;
For if we should hang any losel[110] here,
The first we would begin with thee.

Then bespake a good fellòw,
Which sat at John o' the Scales his board;
Said, Turn again, thou heir of Linne;
Some time thou wast a well good lord:

Some time a good fellow thou hast been,
And sparedst not thy gold and fee;
Therefore I'll lend thee forty pence,
And other forty if need be.

And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales,
To let him sit in thy company:
For well I wot thou hadst his land,
And a good bargain it was to thee.
[Pg 130]

Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
All wood[111] he answer'd him again:
Now Christ's curse on my head, he said,
But I did lose by that bargàin.

And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne,
Before these lords so fair and free,
Thou shalt have it back again better cheap,
By a hundred marks, than I had it of thee.

I draw you to record, lords, he said.
With that he cast him a gods-pennie:
Now by my fay, said the heir of Linne,
And here, good John, is thy monèy.

And he pull'd forth three bags of gold,
And laid them down upon the board:
All woe begone was John o' the Scales,
So shent[112] he could say never a word.

THE HEIR OF LINNIE.

[Pg 131]

[Pg 133]

Sir Andrew Barton.

PART THE FIRST.

When Flora with her fragrant flowers
Bedecked the earth so trim and gay,
And Neptune with his dainty showers
Came to present the month of May,
King Henry rode to take the air,
Over the river Thames past he;
When eighty merchànts of London came,
And down they knelt upon their knee.

O ye are welcome, rich merchants;
Good sailors, welcome unto me.
They swore by the rood, they were sailors good,
But rich merchànts they could not be:
[Pg 134] To France nor Flanders dare we pass,
Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare;[113]
And all for a rover that lies on the seas,
Who robs us of our merchant ware.

King Henry frowned, and turned him round,
And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might,
I thought he had not been in the world,
Durst have wrought England such unright.
The merchants sighed, and said, alas!
And thus they did their answer frame,
He is a proud Scot, that robs on the seas,
And Sir Andrew Barton is his name.

The king looked over his left shouldèr,
And an angry look then looked he:
Have I never a lord in all my realm,
Will fetch yon traitor unto me?
[Pg 135] Yea, that dare I, lord Howard says;
Yea, that dare I with heart and hand;
If it please your grace to give me leave,
Myself will be the only man.

Thou art but young, the king replied;
Yon Scot hath numbered many a year.
Trust me, my liege, I'll make him quail,
Or before my prince I will never appear.
Then bowmen and gunners thou shalt have,
And choose them over my realm so free;
Besides good mariners, and ship-boys,
To guide the great ship on the sea.

The first man that lord Howard chose
Was the ablest gunner in all the realm,
Though he was threescore years and ten;
Good Peter Simon was his name.
[Pg 136] Peter, says he, I must to the sea,
To bring home a traitor live or dead;
Before all others I have chosen thee,
Of a hundred gunners to be the head.

If you, my lord, have chosen me
Of a hundred gunners to be the head,
Then hang me up on your main-mast tree,
If I miss my mark one shilling bread.[114]
My lord then chose a bowman rare,
Whose active hands had gained fame;
In Yorkshire was this gentleman born,
And William Horseley was his name.

Horseley, said he, I must with speed
Go seek a traitor on the sea,
And now of a hundred bowmen brave
To be the head I have chosen thee.
[Pg 137] If you, quoth he, have chosen me
Of a hundred bowmen to be the head,
On your main-màst I'll hanged be,
If I miss, twelvescore,[115] one penny bread.

With pikes and guns, and bowmen bold,
This noble Howard is gone to the sea;
With a valiant heart and a pleasant cheer,
Out at Thames mouth sailed he.
And days he scant had sailed three
Upon the voyage he took in hand,
But there he met with a noble ship,
And stoutly made it stay and stand.

Thou must tell me, lord Howard said,
Now who thou art and what's thy name,
And show me where thy dwelling is,
And whither bound, and whence thou came.
[Pg 138] My name is Henry Hunt, quoth he
With a heavy heart, and a careful mind;
I and my ship do both belong
To the Newcastle that stands upon Tyne.

Hast thou not heard, now, Henry Hunt,
As thou hast sailed by day and by night,
Of a Scottish rover on the seas;
Men call him sir Andrew Barton, knight?
Then ever he sighed, and said alas!
With a grieved mind, and well away!
But over-well I know that wight,
I was his prisoner yesterday.

As I was sailing upon the sea,
A Bordeaux voyage for to fare;
To his hatchboard[116] he clasped me,
And robbed me of all my merchant ware:
[Pg 139] And mickle debts, God wot, I owe,
And every man will have his own,
And I am now to London bound,
Of our gracious king to beg a boon.

Thou shalt not need, lord Howard says;
Let me but once that robber see,
For every penny ta'en thee fro'
It shall be doubled shillings three.
Now God forefend, the merchant said,
That you should seek so far amiss!
God keep you out of that traitor's hands!
Full little ye wot what a man he is.

He is brass within, and steel without,
With beams on his topcastle strong;
And eighteen pieces of ordinance
He carries on each side along:
[Pg 140] And he hath a pinnace dearly dight,[117]
St. Andrew's cross that is his guide;
His pinnace beareth ninescore men,
And fifteen cannons on each side.

Were ye twenty ships, and he but one,
I swear by kirk, and bower, and hall,
He would overcome them every one,
If once his beams they do down fall.
This is cold comfort, says my lord,
To welcome a stranger thus to the sea:
Yet I'll bring him and his ship to shore,
Or to Scotland he shall carry me.

Then a noble gunner you must have,
And he must aim well with his ee,
And sink his pinnace into the sea,
Or else he ne'er o'ercome will be:
[Pg 141] And if you chance his ship to board,
This counsel I must give withal,
Let no man to his topcastle go
To strive to let his beams down fall.

And seven pieces of ordinance,
I pray your honour lend to me,
On each side of my ship along,
And I will lead you on the sea.
A glass I'll set, that may be seen,
Whether you sail by day or night;
And to-morrow, I swear, by nine of the clock
You shall meet with Sir Andrew Barton, knight.
[Pg 142]

PART THE SECOND.

The merchant set my lord a glass
So well apparent in his sight,
And on the morrow, by nine of the clock,
He showed him Sir Andrew Barton, knight.
His hatchboard it was gilt with gold,
So dearly dight it dazzled the ee:
Now by my faith, lord Howard says,
This is a gallant sight to see.

Take in your ancients,[118] standards eke,
So close that no man may them see;
And put me forth a white willow wand,
As merchants use to sail the sea.
[Pg 143] But they stirred neither top, nor mast;[119]
Stoutly they passed Sir Andrew by.
What English churls are yonder, he said,
That can so little courtesy?

Now by the rood, three years and more,
I have been admiral over the sea;
And never an English nor Portingall[120]
Without my leave can pass this way.
Then called he forth his stout pinnàce;
Fetch back yon pedlars now to me:
I swear by the mass, yon English churls
Shall all hang at my main-mast tree.

With that the pinnace it shot off,
Full well lord Howard might it ken;
For it stroke down my lord's fore mast,
And killed fourteen of his men.
[Pg 144] Come hither, Simon, says my lord,
Look that thy word be true, thou said;
For at my main-mast thou shalt hang,
If thou miss thy mark one shilling bread.

Simon was old, but his heart it was bold,
His ordinance he laid right low;
He put in chain full nine yards long,
With other great shot less, and moe;
And he let go his great gun's shot:
So well he settled it with his ee,
The first sight that Sir Andrew saw,
He saw his pinnace sunk in the sea.

And when he saw his pinnace sunk,
Lord, how his heart with rage did swell!
Now cut my ropes, it is time to be gone;
I'll fetch yon pedlars back mysel'.
[Pg 145] When my lord saw Sir Andrew loose,
Within his heart he was full fain:
Now spread your ancients, strike up drums,
Sound all your trumpets out amain.

Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew says,
Well howsoever this gear will sway;[121]
It is my lord admiral of Englànd,
Is come to seek me on the sea.
Simon had a son, who shot right well,
That did Sir Andrew mickle scare;
In at his deck he gave a shot,
Killed threescore of his men of war.

Then Henry Hunt with rigour hot
Came bravely on the other side,
Soon he drove down his fore-mast tree,
And killed fourscore men beside.
[Pg 146] Now, out alas! Sir Andrew cried,
What may a man now think, or say?
Yonder merchant thief, that pierceth me,
He was my prisoner yesterday.

Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,
That aye wast ready at my call;
I will give thee three hundred marks,
If thou wilt let my beams down fall.
Lord Howard he then call'd in haste,
Horseley see thou be true instead;
For thou shalt at the main-mast hang,
If thou miss, twelvescore, one penny bread.

Then Gordon swarved[122] the main-mast tree,
He swarved it with might and main;
But Horseley with a bearing arrow,
Stroke the Gordon through the brain;
[Pg 147] And he fell into the hatches again,
And sore his deadly wound did bleed:
Then word went through Sir Andrew's men,
How that the Gordon he was dead.

Come hither to me, James Hambilton,
Thou art my only sister's son,
If thou wilt let my beams down fall,
Six hundred nobles thou hast won.
With that he swarved the main-mast tree,
He swarved it with nimble art;
But Horseley with a broad arròw
Pierced the Hambilton through the heart:

And down he fell upon the deck,
That with his blood did stream amain:
Then every Scot cried, Well-away!
Alas, a comely youth is slain!
[Pg 148] All woe begone was Sir Andrew then,
With grief and rage his heart did swell:
Go fetch me forth my armour of proof,
For I will to the topcastle mysel'.

Go fetch me forth my armour of proof;
That gilded is with gold so clear:
God be with my brother John of Barton!
Against the Portingalls he it ware:
And when he had on this armour of proof,
He was a gallant sight to see:
Ah! ne'er didst thou meet with living wight,
My dear brothèr, could cope with thee.

Come hither Horseley, says my lord,
And look your shaft that it go right,
Shoot a good shot in time of need,
And for it thou shalt be made a knight.
[Pg 149] I'll shoot my best, quoth Horseley then,
Your honour shall see, with might and main;
But if I was hanged at your main-mast,
I have now left but arrows twain.

Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,
With right good will he swarved then:
Upon his breast did Horseley hit,
But the arrow bounded back again.
Then Horseley spied a privy place
With a perfect eye in a secret part;
Under the spole[123] of his right arm
He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.

Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew says,
A little I'm hurt, but yet not slain;
I'll but lie down and bleed awhile,
And then I'll rise and fight again.
[Pg 150] Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew says,
And never flinch before the foe;
And stand fast by St. Andrew's cross
Until you hear my whistle blow.

They never heard his whistle blow,——
Which made their hearts wax sore adread:
Then Horseley said, Aboard, my lord,
For well I wot, Sir Andrew's dead.
They boarded then his noble ship,
They boarded it with might and main;
Eighteen score Scots alive they found,
The rest were either maimed or slain.

Lord Howard took a sword in hand,
And off he smote Sir Andrew's head,
I must have left England many a day,
If thou wert alive as thou art dead.
[Pg 151] He caused his body to be cast
Over the hatchboard into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crowns:
Wherever thou land this will bury thee.

SIR ANDREW BARTON.

[Pg 155]

Brave Lord Willoughbey.[124]

[124]

The fifteenth day of July,
With glistering spear and shield,
A famous fight in Flanders
Was foughten on the field:
The most courageous officers
Were English captains three;
But the bravest man in battle
Was brave lord Willoughbèy.

The next was captain Norris,
A valiant man was he:
The other captain Turner,
From field would never flee.
[Pg 156] With fifteen hundred fighting men,
Alas! there were no more,
They fought with fourteen thousand then,
Upon the bloody shore.

Stand to it noble pikemen,
And look you round about:
And shoot you right you bowmen,
And we will keep them out:
You musket and calliver[125] men,
Do you prove true to me,
I'll be the foremost man in fight,
Says brave lord Willoughbèy.

And then the bloody enemy
They fiercely did assail,
And fought it out most furiously,
Not doubting to prevail:
[Pg 157] The wounded men on both sides fell
Most piteous for to see,
Yet nothing could the courage quell
Of brave lord Willoughbèy.

THE BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBY.

[Pg 162]

King John and the Abbot of Canterbury.

An ancient story I'll tell you anon
Of a notable prince, that was called king John;
And he ruled England with main and with might,
For he did great wrong, and maintain'd little right.

And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbùry;
How for his house-keeping, and high renown,
They rode post for him to fair London town.

[Pg 163] An hundred men, the king did hear say,
The abbot kept in his house every day;
And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,
In velvet coats waited the abbot about.

How now, father abbot, I hear it of thee,
Thou keepest a far better house than me,
And for thy house-keeping and high renown,
I fear thou work'st treason against my crown.

My liege, quoth the abbot, I would it were known,
I never spend nothing, but what is my own;
And I trust, your grace will do me no deer,[126]
For spending of my own true-gotten gear.

Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is high,
And now for the same thou needest must die;
For except thou canst answer me questions three,
Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.
[Pg 164]

And first, quoth the king, when I'm in this stead,[127]
With my crown of gold so fair on my head,
Among all my liege-men so noble of birth,
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

Secondly, tell me, without any doubt,
How soon I may ride the whole world about.
And at the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think.

O, these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet:
But if you will give me but three weeks' space,
I'll do my endeavour to answer your grace.

Now three weeks' space to thee will I give,
And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me.

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.

[Pg 165]

[Pg 170]

Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar.

In the summer time, when leaves grow green,
And flowers are fresh and gay,
Robin Hood and his merry men
Were all disposed to play.

Then some would leap, and some would run,
And some would use artillery;
Which of you can a good bow draw,
A good archer for to be?

Which of you can kill a buck?
Or who can kill a doe?
Or who can kill a hart of grease,[129]
Five hundred foot him fro'?
[Pg 171]

Will Scarlet he kill'd a buck,
And Midge he kill'd a doe;
And Little John kill'd a hart of grease,
Five hundred foot him fro'.

God's blessing on thy heart, said Robin Hood,
That shot such a shot for me;
I would ride my horse an hundred miles
To find one to match thee.

That caused Will Scarlet to laugh,
He laugh'd full heartily;
There lives a friar in Fountain's Abbey
Will beat both him and thee.

The curtal friar in Fountain's Abbey
Well can draw a good strong bow;
He will beat both you and your yeomen,
Set them all on a row.

[Pg 172] Robin Hood took a solemn oath,
It was by Mary free,
That he would neither eat nor drink,
Till the friar he did see.

Robin Hood put on his harness good,
On his head a cap of steel;
Broad sword and buckler by his side,
And they became him well.

He took his bow into his hand,
(It was of a trusty tree)
With a sheaf of arrows by his side
And to Fountain Dale went he.

And coming unto fair Fountain Dale,
No farther would he ride:
There was he 'ware of a curtal friar,
Walking by the water-side.

[Pg 173] The friar had on a harness good,
On his head a cap of steel;
Broad sword and buckler by his side,
And they became him well.

Robin Hood lighted off his horse,
And tied him to a thorn:
Carry me over the water, thou curtal friar,
Or else thy life's forlorn.

The friar took Robin Hood on his back,
Deep water he did bestride,
And spake neither good word nor bad
Till he came to the other side.

Lightly leap'd Robin off the friar's back,
The friar said to him again,
Carry me over the water, fine fellow,
Or it shall breed thee pain.

[Pg 174] Robin Hood took the friar on his back,
Deep water he did bestride,
And spake neither good nor bad
Till he came to the other side.

Lightly leap'd the friar off Robin Hood's back,
Robin said to him again,
Carry me over the water thou curtal friar,
Or it shall breed thee pain.

The friar he took Robin Hood on his back again
And stepp'd up to his knee;
Till he came to the middle of the stream
Neither good nor bad spake he;

And coming to the middle of the stream
There he threw Robin in;
And choose thee, choose thee, fine fellow,
Whether thou wilt sink or swim.

ROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTALL FRYER.

[Pg 175]

[Pg 181]

Robin Hood and Allen-a-Dale.

Come listen to me, you gallants so free,
All you that love mirth for to hear,
And I will tell you of a bold outlaw,
That liv'd in Nottinghamshire.

As Robin Hood in the forest stood,
All under the greenwood tree,
There was he aware of a brave young man,
As fine as fine might be.

The youngster was clothed in scarlet red,
In scarlet fine and gay;
And he did frisk it o'er the plain,
And chaunted a roundelay.

[Pg 182] As Robin Hood next morning stood
Amongst the leaves so gay,
There did he 'spy the same young man
Come drooping along the way.

The scarlet he wore the day before,
It was cast clean away;
And ev'ry step he fetch'd a sigh,
Alack and well a day!

Then stepped forth brave Little John,
And Midge the miller's son,
Which made the young man bend his bow,
When he did see them come.

Stand off, stand off, the young man said,
What is your will with me?
You must come before our master straight,
Under yonder greenwood tree.

[Pg 183] And when he came bold Robin before,
Robin asked him courteously,
O hast thou any money to spare
For my merry men and me?

I have no money, the young man said,
But five shillings and a ring,
And that I have kept these seven long years,
To have it at my wedding.

Yesterday I should have married a maid,
But from me she was ta'en,
And chosen to be an old knight's delight,
Whereby my poor heart is slain.

What is thy name then, said Robin Hood,
Come, tell me without fail?
By the faith of my body, then said the young man,
My name is Allen-a-Dale.

[Pg 184] What wilt thou give me, said Robin Hood,
In ready gold or fee,
To help thee to thy true love again,
And deliver her unto thee?

I have no money, then quoth the young man,
No ready gold or fee,
But I will swear upon a book,
Thy true servant for to be.

How many miles is it to thy true love?
Come, tell me without any guile.
By the faith of my body, then said the young man,
It is but five little mile.

Then Robin he hasted over the plain,
And he did neither stint nor lin,[131]
Until he came unto the church,
Where Allen should have kept his wedding!
[Pg 185]

What dost thou here, the Bishop then said,
I prithee tell unto me?
I am a bold harper, quoth Robin Hood,
And the best in the north country.

O welcome, O welcome, the bishop then said,
That music best pleaseth me;
You shall have no music, quoth Robin Hood,
Till the bride and bridegroom I see.

With that came in a wealthy knight,
Who was both grave and old;
And after him a finikin lass,
That did shine like glittering gold.

This is not a fit match, quoth bold Robin Hood,
That you do seem to make here;
For since we are come into the church,
The bride shall choose her own dear.

[Pg 186] Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,
And blew blasts two or three;
Then four and twenty bowmen bold
Came leaping over the lea.

And when they came into the churchyard,
Marching all on a row,
The first man was Allen-a-Dale,
To give bold Robin his bow.

This is thy true love, Robin he said,
Young Allen, as I have heard say,
And thou shalt be married at this same time,
Before we depart away.

That shalt not be, the bishop he said,
For thy word shall not stand;
They shall be three times asked in the church,
As the law is of our land.