The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Book Of Brave Old Ballads, by John Gilbert.
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Book of Brave Old Ballads
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Title: The Book of Brave Old Ballads
Illustrator: John Gilbert
Release date: May 15, 2008 [eBook #25480]
Most recently updated: January 3, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Chris Logan and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOOK OF BRAVE OLD BALLADS ***
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 was reachles[21] of a root, And stumbled at that tide; And Guy was quick and nimble withal, And hit him o'er the left side.
Ah dear Lady, said Robin Hood, thou, Thou art both mother and may',[22] I think it was never man's destiny To die before his day.
Robin thought on our Lady dear, And soon leapt up again, And straight he came with a backward stroke, And he sir Guy hath slain.
He took sir Guy's head by the hair, And stuck it upon his bow's-end: Thou hast been a traitor all thy life, Which thing must have an end.
[Pg 12]Robin pull'd forth an Irish knife, And nick'd sir Guy in the face, That he was never o' woman born, Could tell whose head it was.
Says, Lie there, lie there now, sir Guy, And with me be not wroth; If thou have had the worst strokes at my hand, Thou shalt have the better cloth.
Robin did off his gown of green, And on sir Guy did throw, And he put on that capull hide, That clad him top to toe.
The bow, the arrows, and little horn, Now with me I will bear; For I will away to Barnèsdale, To see how my men do fare.
[Pg 13]Robin Hood set Guy's horn to his mouth, And a loud blast in it did blow, That beheard the sheriff of Nottingham, As he leaned under a lowe.[23]
Hearken, hearken, said the sheriff, I hear now tidings good, For yonder I hear sir Guy's horn blow, And he hath slain Robin Hood.
Yonder I hear sir Guy's horn blow, It blows so well in tide, And yonder comes that wighty yeoman, Clad in his capull hide.
Come hither, come hither, thou good sir Guy, Ask what thou wilt of me. O I will none of thy gold, said Robin, Nor I will none of thy fee. [Pg 14]
But now I have slain the master, he says, Let me go strike the knave; For this is all the reward I ask; Nor no other will I have.
Thou art a madman, said the sheriff, Thou shouldst have had a knight's fee: But seeing thy asking hath been so bad, Well granted it shall be.
When Little John heard his master speak, Well knew he it was his steven:[24] Now shall I be loosed, quoth Little John, With Christe his might in heaven.
Fast Robin he hied him to Little John, He thought to loose him belive;[25] The sheriff and all his company Fast after him did drive.
[Pg 15]Stand back, stand back, said Robin; Why draw you me so near? It was never the use in our country, One's shrift another should hear.
But Robin pull'd forth an Irish knife, And loosed John hand and foot, And gave him sir Guy's bow into his hand, And bade it be his boote.
Then John he took Guy's bow in his hand, His bolts and arrows each one: When the sheriff saw Little John bend his bow, He fettled him to be gone.
Towards his house in Nottingham town, He fled full fast away; And so did all the company: Not one behind would stay.
[Pg 16]But he could neither run so fast, Nor away so fast could ride, But Little John with an arrow so broad, He shot him into the back-side.
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.
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.
A curse on his heart, said William, This day thy coat put on! If it had been no better than mine, That had gone near thy bone.
Yield thee, Cloudesly, said the justice, And thy bow and thy arrows thee fro'. A curse on his heart, said fair Alice, That my husband counselleth so.
Set fire on the house, said the sheriff, Since it will no better be, And burn we therein William, he said, His wife and children three.
They fired the house in many a place, The fire flew up on high: Alas! then cried fair Alice, I see we here shall die.
[Pg 38]William opened a back window, That was in his chamber hi', And there with sheets he did let down His wife and children three.
Have you here my treasure, said William, My wife and my children three: For Christ's love do them no harm, But wreak you all on me.
William shot so wondrous well, Till his arrows were all ago', And the fire so fast upon him fell That his bowstring burnt in two.
The sparkles burnt and fell upon Good William of Cloudesly: Then was he a woeful man, and said, This is a coward's death to me.
[Pg 39]Liever had I, said William, With my sword in the route to run, Than here among mine enemies wode[42] Thus cruelly to burn.
He took his sword and his buckler, And among them all he ran: Where the people were most in prece,[43] He smote down many a man.
There might no man abide his strokes, So fiercely on them he ran: Then they threw windows, and doors on him, And so took that good yeomàn.
There they him bound both hand and foot, And in deep dungeon him cast: Now Cloudesly, said the justice, Thou shalt be hanged in haste.
[Pg 40]A pair of new gallows, said the sheriff, Now shall I for thee make; And the gates of Carlisle shall be shut: No man shall come in thereat.
Then shall not help Clym of the Clough, Nor yet shall Adam Bell, Though they came with a thousand more, Nor all the devils in hell.
Early in the morning the justice uprose, To the gates first gan he to gon', And commanded to be shut full close Lightly every one.
Then went he to the market place, As fast as he could hie; There a pair of new gallows he set up Beside the pillory.
[Pg 41]A little boy among them asked, What meaneth that gallows-tree? They said to hang a good yeoman, Called William of Cloudesly.
That little boy was the town swine-herd, And kept fair Alice's swine; Oft he had seen William in the wood, And given him there to dine.
He went out at a crevice in the wall, And lightly to the wood did gon'; There met he with these wight yeomen Shortly and anon.
Alas! then said that little boy, Ye tarry here all too long; Cloudesly is taken, and dampned[44] to death, All ready for to hong.[45]
[Pg 42]Alas! then said good Adam Bell, That ever we see this day! He had better with us have tarried, So oft as we did him pray.
He might have dwelt in green forest, Under the shadows green, And have kept both him and us at rest, Out of all trouble and teen.[46]
Adam bent a right good bow, A great hart soon he had slain; Take that, child, he said, to thy dinner, And bring me mine arrow again.
Now go we hence, said these wight yeomen, Tarry we no longer here; We shall him borrow[47] by God his grace, Though we buy it full dear.
[Pg 43]To Carlisle went these bold yeomen, All in the morning of May. Here is a FYT[48] of Cloudesly, And another is for to say.
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.
He struck so hard, the bason broke; And Tarquin soon he spied: Who drove a horse before him fast, Whereon a knight lay tied.
Sir knight, then said Sir Lancelot, Bring me that horse-load hither, And lay him down, and let him rest; We'll try our force together:
For, as I understand, thou hast, So far as thou art able, Done great despite and shame unto The knights of the Round Table.
If thou be of the Table Round, Quoth Tarquin speedily, Both thee and all thy fellowship I utterly defy.
[Pg 78]That's over much, quoth Lancelot, though, Defend thee by and by. They set their spears unto their steeds, And each at other fly.
They couched their spears, (their horses ran, As though there had been thunder) And struck them each immidst their shields, Wherewith they broke in sunder.
Their horses' backs brake under them, The knights were both astound: To avoid their horses they make haste And light upon the ground.
They took them to their shields full fast, Their swords they drew out then, With mighty strokes most eagerly Each at the other ran.
[Pg 79]They wounded were, and bled full sore, For both for breath did stand, And leaning on their swords awhile, Quoth Tarquin, Hold thy hand,
And tell to me what I shall ask. Say on, quoth Lancelot tho.[78] Thou art, quoth Tarquin, the best knight That ever I did know;
And like a knight, that I did hate: So that thou be not he, I will deliver all the rest, And eke accord with thee.
That is well said, quoth Lancelot; But since it must be so, What knight is that thou hatest thus? I pray thee to me show. [Pg 80]
His name is Lancelot du Lake, He slew my brother dear; Him I suspect of all the rest: I would I had him here.
Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknown, I am Lancelot du Lake, Now knight of Arthur's Table Round; King Haud's son, of Schuwake;
And I desire thee do thy worst. Ho, ho, quoth Tarquin tho, One of us two shall end our lives Before that we do go.
If thou be Lancelot du Lake, Then welcome shalt thou be; Wherefore see thou thyself defend, For now defy I thee.
[Pg 81]They buckled then together so, Like unto wild boars rashing, And with their swords and shields they ran At one another slashing:
The ground besprinkled was with blood: Tarquin began to yield; For he gave back for weariness, And low did bear his shield.
This soon Sir Lancelot espied, He leapt upon him then, He pull'd him down upon his knee, And rushing[79] off his helm,
Forthwith he struck his neck in two, And, when he had so done, From prison threescore knights and four Delivered every one.
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.
Tho' he seem'd something mute, yet he chose a rich suit, Which he straitways put on without longer dispute; With a star on his side, which the tinker oft ey'd, And it seem'd for to swell him no little with pride; [Pg 85]For he said to himself, Where is Joan my sweet wife? Sure she never did see me so fine in her life.
From a convenient place, the right duke his good grace Did observe his behaviour in every case. To a garden of state, on the tinker they wait, Trumpet sounding before him: thought he, this is great: Where an hour or two, pleasant walks he did view, With commanders and squires in scarlet and blue.
A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his guests, He was plac'd at the table above all the rest, [Pg 86]In a rich chair or bed, lin'd with fine crimson red, With a rich golden canopy over his head: As he sat at his meat, the music play'd sweet, With the choicest of singing his joys to complete.
While the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine, Rich canary with sherry and tent superfine. Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl, Till at last he began for to tumble and roll From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore, Being seven times drunker than ever before.
Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him amain, And restore him his old leather garments again: [Pg 87]Twas a point next the worst, yet perform it they must, And they carried him strait, where they found him at first; Then he slept all the night, as indeed well he might; But when he did waken, his joys took their flight.
For his glory to him so pleasant did seem, That he thought it to be but a mere golden dream; Till at length he was brought to the duke, where he sought For a pardon, as fearing he had set him at nought; But his highness he said, Thou'rt a jolly bold blade, Such a frolic before I think never was play'd.
[Pg 88]Then his highness bespoke him a new suit and cloak, Which he gave for the sake of this frolicksome joke; Nay, and five hundred pound, with ten acres of ground, Thou shalt never, said he, range the countries around, Crying "old brass to mend," for I'll be thy good friend, Nay, and Joan thy sweet wife shall my duchess attend.
Then the tinker reply'd, What! must Joan my sweet bride Be a lady in chariots of pleasure to ride? Must we have gold and land ev'ry day at command? Then I shall be a squire I well understand: Well I thank your good grace, and your love I embrace, I was never before in so happy a case.
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.
Here's twenty groats out of my purse; And twenty I have of thine: And I have one more, which we will spend Together at the wine.
The king set a bugle horn to his mouth, And blew both loud and shrill: And soon came lords, and soon came knights, Fast riding over the hill.
Now, out alas! the tanner he cried, That ever I saw this day! Thou art a strong thief, yon come thy fellows Will bear my cow-hide away.
They are no thieves, the king replied, I swear, so mote I thee: But they are the lords of the north country, Here come to hunt with me.
[Pg 116]And soon before our king they came, And knelt down on the ground: Then might the tanner have been away, He had lever[95] than twenty pound.
A collar, a collar, here: said the king, A collar he loud 'gan cry: Then would he lever than twenty pound, He had not been so nigh.
A collar, a collar, the tanner he said, I trow it will breed sorrow: After a collar cometh a halter, I trow I shall be hang'd to-morrow.
Be not afraid, tanner, said our king; I tell thee, so mote I thee, Lo here I make thee the best esquire That is in the north country. [Pg 117]
For Plumpton-park I will give thee, With tenements fair beside: 'Tis worth three hundred marks by the year, To maintain thy good cow-hide.
Gramercy, my liege, the tanner replied, For the favour thou hast me shown: If ever thou comest to merry Tamwòrth, Neat's[96] leather shall clout thy shoen.[97]
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.
He told him forth the good red gold, He told it forth with mickle din. The gold is thine, the land is mine, And now again I'm the lord of Linne.
Says, Have thou here, thou good fellòw, Forty pence thou didst lend me: Now I am again the lord of Linne, And forty pounds I will give thee.
I'll make thee keeper of my forest, Both of the wild deer and the tame; For but I reward thy bounteous heart, I wis, good fellow, I were to blame.
Now well-a-day! saith Joan o' the Scales: Now well-a-day! and woe is my life! Yesterday I was lady of Linne, Now I'm but John o' the Scales his wife.
[Pg 132]Now fare thee well, said the heir of Linne; Farewell now, John o' the Scales, said he: Christ's curse light on me, if ever again I bring my lands in jeopardy.
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.
Thus from the wars lord Howard came, And back he sailèd o'er the main, With mickle joy and triumphìng Into Thames mouth he came again. Lord Howard then a letter wrote, And sealèd it with seal and ring; Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace, As never did subject to a king:
Sir Andrew's ship I bring with me; A braver ship was never none: Now hath your grace two ships of war, Before in England was but one. [Pg 152]King Henry's grace with royal cheer Welcomed the noble Howard home, And where, said he, is this rover stout, That I myself may give the doom?
The rover, he is safe, my liege, Full many a fathom in the sea; If he were alive as he is dead, I must have left England many a day: And your grace may thank four men i' the ship For the victory which we have won, These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, And Peter Simon, and his son.
To Henry Hunt, the king then said, In lieu of what was from thee ta'en, A noble a-day now thou shalt have, Sir Andrew's jewels and his chain. [Pg 153]And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, And lands and livings shalt have store; Howard shall be earl of Surrey hight, As Howards erst have been before.
Now, Peter Simon, thou art old, I will maintain thee and thy son: And the men shall have five hundred marks For the good service they have done. Then in came the queen with ladies fair To see Sir Andrew Barton knight: They ween'd that he were brought on shore, And thought to have seen a gallant sight.
But when they saw his deadly face, And eyes so hollow in his head, I would give, quoth the king, a thousand marks, This man were alive as he is dead: [Pg 154]Yet for the manful part he played, Which fought so well with heart and hand, His men shall have twelvepence a day, Till they come to my brother king's high land.
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.
For seven hours to all men's view This fight endured sore, Until our men so feeble grew, That they could fight no more; And then upon dead horses Full savourly they ate, And drank the puddle water, They could no better get.
When they had fed so freely, They kneeled on the ground, And praised God devoutly For the favour they had found; [Pg 158]And beating up their colours, The fight they did renew, And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, A thousand more they slew.
The sharp steel-pointed arrows, And bullets thick did fly; Then did our valiant soldiers Charge on most furiously; Which made the Spaniards waver, They thought it best to flee, They fear'd the stout behaviour Of brave lord Willoughbèy.
Then quoth the Spanish general, Come let us march away, I fear we shall be spoiled all, If here we longer stay; [Pg 159]For yonder comes lord Willoughbey With courage fierce and fell, He will not give one inch of way For all the devils in hell.
And then the fearful enemy Was quickly put to flight, Our men pursued courageously, And caught their forces quite; But at last they gave a shout, Which echoed through the sky, God, and St. George for England! The conquerors did cry.
This news was brought to England With all the speed might be, And soon our gracious queen was told Of this same victory. [Pg 160]O this is brave lord Willoughbey, My love that ever won, Of all the lords of honour, 'Tis he great deeds hath done.
To the soldiers that were maimed, And wounded in the fray, The queen allowed a pension Of fifteen pence a day; And from all costs and charges She quit and set them free: And this she did all for the sake Of brave lord Willoughbèy.
Then courage, noble Englishmen, And never be dismayed: If that we be but one to ten, We will not be afraid [Pg 161]To fight with foreign enemies, And set our nation free. And thus I end the bloody bout Of brave lord Willoughbèy.
FOOTNOTES:
[124] Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughbey of Eresby, died
1601.
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.
Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise.
Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, And he met his shepherd a going to fold: How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home; What news do you bring us from good king John?
Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give; That I have but three days more to live: For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my body.
The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crown of gold so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth.
[Pg 166]The second, to tell him, without any doubt, How soon he may ride this whole world about: And at the third question I must not shrink, But tell him there truly what he does think.
Now cheer up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learn a wise man wit? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.
Nay frown not, if it hath been told unto me, I am like your lordship, as ever may be: And if you will but lend me your gown, There is none shall know us at fair London town.
Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave; With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appear 'fore our father the pope.
[Pg 167]Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.
And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birth, Tell me to one penny what I am worth.
For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Among the false Jews, as I have been told; And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I think, thou art one penny worser than he.
The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,[128] I did not think I had been worth so little! —Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride this whole world about. [Pg 168]
You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth again; And then your grace need not make any doubt, But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about.
The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not think it could be gone so soon! —Now from the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think.
Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry: You think I'm the abbot of Canterbùry; But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for me.
The king he laughed, and swore by the mass, I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place! [Pg 169]Now nay, my liege, be not in such speed, For, alack, I can neither write nor read.
Four nobles a week then I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me; And tell the old abbot when thou com'st home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John.
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.
Robin Hood pull'd off the bishop's coat, And put it upon Little John; By the faith of my body, then Robin he said, This cloth doth make thee a man.
When Little John went to the quire, The people began to laugh: He ask'd them seven times in the church, Lest three times should not be enough.
Who gives this maid? said Little John; Quoth Robin, that do I; And he that takes her from Allen-a-Dale, Full dearly shall her buy.
And thus having ended this merry wedding, The bride she looked like a queen! And so they returned to the merry green wood, Amongst the leaves so green.
Henry, our royal king, would ride a hunting To the green forest, so pleasant and fair; To see the harts skipping, and dainty does tripping: Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repair: Hawk and hound were unbound, all things prepar'd For the game, in the same, with good regard.
All a long summer's day rode the king pleasantly, With all his princes and nobles each one; Chasing the hart and hind, and the buck gallantly, Till the dark evening forc'd all to turn home. [Pg 215]Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite All his lords in the wood, late in the night.
Wandering thus wearily, all alone, up and down, With a rude miller he met at the last: Asking the ready way unto fair Nottingham; Sir, quoth the miller, I mean not to jest, Yet I think, what I think, sooth for to say, You do not lightly ride out of your way.
Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our king merrily, Passing thy judgment upon me so brief? Good faith, said the miller, I mean not to flatter thee; I guess thee to be but some gentleman thief; Stand thee back, in the dark; light not adown, Lest that I presently crack thy knave's crown.
[Pg 216]Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, saying thus; I am a gentleman; lodging I lack. Thou hast not, quoth th' miller, one groat in thy purse; All thy inheritance hangs on thy back. I have gold to discharge all that I call;[133] If it be forty pence, I will pay all.
If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller, I swear by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night. Here's my hand, quoth the king; that was I ever. Nay, soft, quoth the miller, thou may'st be a sprite. Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake; With none but honest men hands will I take. [Pg 217]
Thus they went all along unto the miller's house: Where they were seething of puddings and souse: The miller first enter'd in; after him went the king; Never came he in so smoky a house. Now, quoth he, let me see here what you are. Quoth our king, look your fill, and do not spare.
I like well thy countenance; thou hast an honest face; With my son Richard this night thou shalt lie. Quoth his wife, by my troth, it is a handsome youth; Yet it's best, husband, to deal warily. Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell? Show me thy passport, and all shall be well.
Then our king presently, making low courtesy, With his hat in his hand, thus he did say; [Pg 218]I have no passport, nor never was servitor, But a poor courtier, rode out of my way: And for your kindness here offered to me, I will requite you in every degree.
Then to the miller his wife whispered secretly, Saying, It seemeth this youth's of good kin, Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners; To turn him out, certainly, were a great sin. Yea, quoth he, you may see he hath some grace When he doth speak to his betters in place.
Well, quo' the miller's wife, young man, ye're welcome here; And, though I say it, well lodgèd shall be: Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave, And good brown hempen sheets likewise, quoth she. Aye, quoth the good man; and when that is done, Thou shalt lie with no worse than our own son.
This caus'd the king, suddenly, to laugh most heartily, Till the tears trickled fast down from his eyes. Then to their supper were they set orderly, With hot bag-puddings and good apple-pies; Nappy ale, good and stale, in a brown bowl, Which did about the board merrily trowl.
Here, quoth the miller, good fellow, I drink to thee, And to all courtiers, wherever they be. I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thank thee heartily For my welcome in every good degree: And here, in like manner, I drink to thy son. Do then, quoth Richard, and quick let it come.
Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth lightfoot, And of his sweetness a little we'll taste. [Pg 220]A fair ven'son pasty brought she out presently. Eat, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no waste. Here's dainty lightfoot! In faith, said the king, I never before eat so dainty a thing.
I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is, For we do eat of it every day. In what place, said our king, may be bought like to this? We never pay penny for it, by my fay: From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here; Now and then we make bold with our king's deer.
Then I think, said our king, that it is venison. Each fool, quoth Richard, full well may know that: Never are we without two or three in the roof, Very well fleshed, and excellent fat: [Pg 221]But, prythee, say nothing wherever thou go; We would not, for two pence, the king should it know.
Doubt not, then said the king, my promised secrecy; The king shall never know more on't for me. A cup of lambs-wool[134] they drank unto him then, And to their beds they passed presently. The nobles, next morning, went all up and down, For to seek out the king in every town.
At last, at the miller's cot, soon they espy'd him out, As he was mounting upon his fair steed; To whom they came presently, falling down on their knee; Which made the miller's heart wofully bleed; Shaking and quaking, before him he stood, Thinking he should have been hang'd, by the Rood. [Pg 222]
The king perceiving him fearfully trembling Drew forth his sword, but nothing he said: The miller down did fall, crying before them all, Doubting the king would cut off his head. But he, his kind courtesy for to requite, Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight.
PART THE SECOND.
When as our royal king came home from Nottingham, And with his nobles at Westminster lay; Recounting the sports and pastimes they had taken, In this late progress along on the way; Of them all, great and small, he did protest, The miller of Mansfield's sport likèd him best.
[Pg 223]And now, my lords, quoth the king, I am determined Against St. George's next sumptuous feast, That this old miller, our new confirmed knight, With his son Richard, shall here be my guest: For, in this merriment, 'tis my desire To talk with the jolly knight, and the young squire.
When as the noble lords saw the king's pleasantness, They were right joyful and glad in their hearts: A pursuivant there was sent straight on the business, The which had oftentimes been in those parts. When he came to the place, where they did dwell, His message orderly then 'gan he tell.
God save your worship, then said the messenger, And grant your lady her own heart's desire; [Pg 224]And to your son Richard good fortune and happiness; That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire. Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say, You must come to the court on St. George's day.
Therefore, in any case, fail not to be in place. I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd jest: What should we do there? faith, I am half afraid. I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang'd at the least. Nay, quoth the messenger, you do mistake; Our king he provides a great feast for your sake.
Then said the miller, By my troth, messenger, Thou hast contented my worship full well. Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gentleness, For these happy tidings which thou dost tell. Let me see, hear thou me; tell to our king, We'll wait on his mastership in everything.
[Pg 225]The pursuivant smiled at their simplicity, And, making many legs, took the reward; And his leave taking with great humility To the king's court again he repaired; Showing unto his grace, merry and free, The knight's most liberal gift and bounty.
When he was gone away, thus 'gan the miller say, Here come expenses and charges indeed; Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend all we have; For of new garments we have great need: Of horses and serving-men we must have store, With bridles and saddles, and twenty things more.
Tush, sir John, quo' his wife, why should you fret, or frown? You shall ne'er be at no charges for me; For I will turn and trim up my old russet gown, With everything else as fine as may be; [Pg 226]And on our mill-horses swift we will ride, With pillows and pannels, as we shall provide.
In this most stately sort, rode they unto the court, Their jolly son Richard rode foremost of all; Who set up, for good hap,[135] a cock's feather in his cap, And so they jetted[136] down to the king's hall; The merry old miller with hands on his side; His wife, like maid Marian, did mince at that tide.
The king and his nobles that heard of their coming, Meeting this gallant knight with his brave train; Welcome, sir knight, quoth he, with your gay lady: Good sir John Cockle, once welcome again: And so is the squire of courage so free. Quoth Dick, A bots on you! do you know me?
[Pg 227]The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily, While the king taketh them both by the hand; With the court-dames and maids, like to the queen of spades, The miller's wife did so orderly stand. A milk-maid's courtesy at every word; And down all the folks were set to the board.
There the king royally, in princely majesty, Sate at his dinner with joy and delight; When they had eaten well, then he to jesting fell, And in a bowl of wine drank to the knight: Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer; Thanking you heartily for my good cheer.
Quoth sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle, Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire: But then, said our king, now I think of a thing; Some of your lightfoot I would we had here. [Pg 228]Ho! ho! quoth Richard, full well I may say it, 'Tis knavery to eat it, and then to betray it.
Why art thou angry? quoth our king merrily; In faith I take it now very unkind: I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartily. Quoth Dick, You are like to stay till I have din'd: You feed us with twatling dishes so small; Zounds, a black-pudding is better than all.
Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent; And then the ladies preparèd to dance. Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent Unto their places the king did advance. Here with the ladies such sport they did make, The nobles with laughing did make their sides ache.
[Pg 229]Many thanks for their pains did the king give them, Asking young Richard then, if he would wed; Among these ladies free, tell me which liketh thee? Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red head: She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed; She hath sworn I shall have her wedding bed.
Then sir John Cockle the king called unto him, And of merry Sherwood made him o'erseer; And gave him out of hand three hundred pound yearly: Take heed now you steal no more of my deer: And once a quarter let's here have your view; And now, sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu.
Price 3s. 6d., Handsomely Bound in cloth gilt, and gilt edges,
The BOY'S BOOK of INDUSTRIAL INFORMATION.
With 370 Illustrations,
Engraved in the Best Manner by the Brothers Dalziel.
An interesting Explanation of our various Manufactures and Workshops,
with descriptive Illustrations to each, drawn expressly for "The Boy's
Book of Industrial Information."
Inconsistent hyphenation has been standardised within each poem.
All spelling variations and accents have been left as originally printed.
To match the table of contents, section headings within "Sir Andrew Barton" have been changed as follows:
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John Pounds, the Philanthropist.
Glass-Cutting.
Gilding Rings.
Cotton Lap Frame.
Carding Machine.
