The short time I must live.
"Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar,
As freely I forgive."
Here take thy queene, our king Harryè, 205
And love her as thy life,
[For never had a king in Christentye,
A truer and fairer wife.
King Henrye ran to claspe his queene,
And loosèd her full sone: 210
Then turnd to look for the tinye boye;
----The boye was vanisht and gone.
But first he had touchd the lazar man,
And stroakt him with his hand:
The lazar under the gallowes tree 215
All whole and sounde did stand.]
The lazar under the gallowes tree
Was comelye, straight and tall;
King Henrye made him his head stewàrde
To wayte withinn his hall. 220
[***]
* * * * *
[The following is the original version from the folio MS reprinted
from Hales and Furnivall's ed. vol. i. p. 166:
Our king he kept a ffalse steward,
men called him Sir Aldingar
he wold haue layen by our comely queene,
her deere worshipp to haue betraide. 4
our queene shee was a good woman,
& euer more said him nay.
Aldingar was offended in his mind,
with her hee was neuer content, 8
but he sought what meanes he cold find out,
in a fyer to haue her brent.
There came a lame lazer to the Kings gates,
a lazer was [b]lind & lame; 12
he tooke the lazer vpon his backe,
vpon the queenes bed he did him lay:
he said, "lye still, lazer, wheras thou lyest,
looke thou goe not away, 16
Ile make thee a whole man & a sound
in 2 howres of a day."
& then went forth Sir Aldingar
our Queene for to betray, 20
and then he mett with our comlye King,
saies, "god you saue & see!
"If I had space as I haue grace,
A message I wold say to thee." 24
"Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,
say thou on and vnto me."
"I can let you now see one of [the] greiuos[est] sights
that euer Christen King did see: 28
Our Queene hath chosen a New New loue,
She will haue none of thee;
"If shee had chosen a right good Knight,
the lesse had beene her shame, 32
but she hath chosen a Lazar man
which is both blinde & lame."
"If this be true, thou Aldingar,
that thou dost tell to me, 36
then will I make thee a rich Knight
both of gold and fee;
"But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,
that thou doest tell to me, 40
then looke for noe other death
but to be hangd on a tree.
goe with me," saide our comly king,
"this Lazar for to see." 44
When the King he came into the queenes chamber,
standing her bed befor,
"there is a lodly lome," says Harry King
"for our dame Queene Elinor! 48
"If thou were a man, as thou art none,
here thou sholdest be slaine;
but a paire of new gallowes shall be biil[t]
thoust hang on them soe hye; 52
"and fayre fyer there shalbe bett,
and brent our Queene shal bee."
fforth then walked our comlye King,
& mett with our comly Queene, 56
saies, "God you saue, our Queene, Madam,
and Christ you saue & see!
heere you [haue] chosen a new new loue,
and you will haue none of mee. 60
"If you had chosen a right good Knight
the lesse he beene your shame,
but you haue chosen a lazar man
that is both blind & lame." 64
"Euer alacke!" said our comly Queene,
"Sir Aldingar is false to mee;
but euer alacke!" said our comly Queene,
"Euer alas, & woe is mee! 68
"I had thought sweuens had neuer been true;
I haue prooued them true at the last;
I dreamed in my sweauen on thursday at eueninge
in my bed wheras I lay, 72
"I dreamed the grype & a grimlie beast
had carryed my crowne away,
my gorgett & my kirtle of golde,
and all my faire heade geere; 76
"How he wold haue worryed me with his tush
& borne me into his nest,
saving there came a litle hawk
flying out of the East, 80
"saving there came a litle Hawke
which men call a Merlion,
vntill the ground he stroke him downe,
that dead he did fall downe. 84
"giffe I were a man, as I am none,
a battell I would proue,
I wold fight with that false traitor;
att him I cast my gloue! 88
"Seing I am able noe battell to make,
you must grant me, my leege, a Knight
to fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,
to maintaine me in my right." 92
"Ile giue thee 40 dayes," said our King,
"to seeke thee a man therin;
if thou find not a man in 40 dayes,
in a hott fyer thou shall brenn." 96
Our Queene sent forth a Messenger,
he rode fast into the south,
he rode the countryes through & through,
soe ffar vnto Portsmouth; 100
he cold find never a man in the south country
that wold fight with the knight soe keene.
the second messenger the Queen forth sent,
rode far into the east, 104
but--blessed be God made sunn and moone!--
he sped then all of the best:
as he rode then by one riuer side,
there he mett with a litle child, 108
he seemed noe more in a mans likenesse
then a child of 4 yeeres old;
He askt the Queenes Messenger how far he rode:
loth he was him to tell; 112
the litle one was offended att him,
bid him adew, farwell!
Said, "turne thou againe, thou messenger,
greete our Queene well from me; 116
when Bale is att hyest, boote is att next,
helpe enough there may bee!
"bid our queene remember what she did dreame
in her bedd wheras shee lay; 120
shee dreamed the grype & the grimly beast
had carryed her crowne away,
"her gorgett & her kirt[l]e of gold,
alsoe her faire head geere, 124
ne wold have werryed her with his tushe
& borne her into her nest,
"Saving there came a litle hawke--
men call him a merlyon-- 128
vntill the ground he did strike him downe,
that dead he did ffall downe.
"bidd the queene be merry att her hart,
euermore light & glad, 132
when bale is att hyest, boote is at next,
helpe enoughe there shalbe [had."]
then the Queenes Messenger rode backe,
a gladed man then was hee; 136
when he came before our Queene,
a gladd woman then was shee;
shee gaue the Messenger 20^{li}:
O lord, in gold & ffee, 140
saies, "spend & spare not while this doth last,
then feitch thou more of me."
Our Queene was put in a tunne to burne,
She thought no thing but death; 144
thé were ware of the litle one
came ryding forth of the East
with a Mu (_line cut away_) ...
a louelie child was hee: 148
when he came to that fier,
he light the Queene full nigh;
said, "draw away these brands of fire
lie burning before our Queene, 152
& feitch me hither Sir Aldingar
that is a knight soe keene."
When Aldingar see that litle one,
ffull litle of him hee thought, 156
if there had beene halfe a 100 such,
of them he wold not haue wrought.
hee sayd, "come hither Sir Aldingar,
thou see-must as bigge as a ffooder! 160
I trust to god, ere I haue done with thee,
God will send to vs anger."
saies, "the first stroke thats giuen, Sir Aldingar,
I will giue vnto thee, 164
& if the second giue thou may,
looke then thou spare not mee."
the litle one pulld forth a well good sword,
I-wis itt was all of guilt, 168
it cast light there over that feild,
it shone soe all of guilt:
he stroke the first stroke att Aldingar,
he stroke away his leggs by his knee, 172
sayes, "stand vp, stand vp, thou false traitor,
& fight vpon thy feete!
"for & thou thriue as thou begins,
of a height wee shalbe meete." 176
"A preist, a preist!" sayes Aldingar,
"me for to houzle & shriue!
A preist, a preist," sayes Aldingar,
"while I am a man liuing a-liue! 180
"I wold haue laine by our comlie Queene;
to it shee wold neuer consent;
I thought to haue betrayed her to our King,
in a fyer to haue had her brent; 184
"there came a lame lazer to the Kings gates,
a lazar both blind & lame;
"I tooke the lazar vpon my backe,
in the Queenes bed I did him lay, 188
I bad him 'lie still, Lazar, where he lay,
looke he went not away,
I wold make him a whole man & a sound
in 2 houres of a day.' 192
"euer alacke!" sayes Sir Aldingar,
"falsing neuer doth well;
"forgiue, forgiue me, Queene, Madam!
for Christs loue forgiue me!" 196
"God forgaue his death, Aldingar,
& freely I forgiue thee."
"Now take thy wife, thou K[ing] Harry,
& loue her as thou shold; 200
thy wiffe shee is a[s] true to thee
as stone that lies on the castle wall."
the Lazar vnder the gallow tree
was a pretty man & small, 204
the Lazar vnder the gallow tree
was made steward in King Henerys hall.
ffins.]
FOOTNOTES:
[328] [burnt.]
[329] [leper.]
[330] He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power
of touching for the king's evil.
[331] [truth.]
[332] [loathsome.]
[333] [complexion.]
[334] [burst.]
[335] [dreams.]
[336] [griffin.]
[337] [neckerchief.]
[338] [petticoat.]
[339] [tooth.]
[340] Ver. 77. see below, v. 137.
[341] [if.]
[342] [immediately.]
[343] [vow or oath.]
[344] [evil.]
[345] [help.]
[346] [defend.]
[347] [supposed.]
[348] [to give the sacrament and to confess.]
X.
THE GABERLUNYIE MAN.
A SCOTTISH SONG.
Tradition informs us that the author of this song was King James V.
of Scotland. This prince (whose character for wit and libertinism
bears a great resemblance to that of his gay successor, Charles II.)
was noted for strolling about his dominions in disguise,[349] and
for his frequent gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of
this kind he hath celebrated with his own pen, viz. in this ballad of
_The Gaberlunyie Man_; and in another intitled _The Jolly Beggar_,
beginning thus:
"Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boun,
And he tuik up his quarters into a land'art toun.
Fa, la, la," &c.
It seems to be the latter of these ballads (which was too licentious to
be admitted into this collection) that is meant in the _Catalogue of
Royal and Noble Authors_,[350] where the ingenious writer remarks, that
"there is something very ludicrous in the young woman's distress when
she thought her first favour had been thrown away upon a beggar."
Bishop Tanner has attributed to James V. the celebrated ballad of
_Christ's Kirk on the Green_, which is ascribed to King James I. in
Bannatyne's MS. written in 1568: and, notwithstanding that authority,
the editor of this book is of opinion that Bishop Tanner was right.
King James V. died Dec. 13th, 1542, aged 33.
* * * * *
[James V. was called the _King of the Commons_, from his popular
manners and vagrant habit, and many stories are told of his
adventures when in disguise. One of these is worth relating here.
On a certain occasion he heard himself abused by a country lad
as a tyrant and a man odious in every respect, until, unable to
restrain himself, he threw off his disguise, and told his accuser
that he was the king. "Are you really the king?" said the lad,
retaining his self-possession; "weel, ye'll maybe hae heard o'
my father: he gaed daft three days regularly every year, and
in a' that time spoke naething but lies and nonsense: now I'm
exactly the same way, and this is _one of my three days_." There
is no authority for attributing the present song to James V.,
except ancient and universal tradition. The word _gaberlunyie_ is
compounded of _gaber_, a wallet, and _lunyie_, the loins: hence
a travelling tinker or beggar carrying a wallet by his side, was
called a "gaberlunyie man." Scott has sketched a vivid portrait of
one of these privileged beggars in his _Antiquary_, Edie Ochiltree,
to wit. The _Jolly Beggar_ is printed in Herd's _Scottish Songs_,
ii. 164, and in Ritson's _Scottish Songs_, i. 168. Competent
authorities are not willing to take the credit of the authorship of
_Christ's Kirk on the Green_ from James I. and give it to James V.]
* * * * *
The pauky auld Carle[351] came ovir the lee
Wi' mony good-eens and days to mee,
Saying, Goodwife, for your courtesie,
Will ye lodge a silly[352] poor man?
The night was cauld, the carle was wat, 5
And down ayont the ingle[353] he sat;
My dochters shoulders he gan to clap,
And cadgily[354] ranted and sang.
O wow![355] quo he, were I as free,
As first when I saw this countrie, 10
How blyth and merry wad I bee!
And I wad nevir think lang.
He grew canty,[356] and she grew fain;[357]
But little did her auld minny ken[358]
What thir slee twa[359] togither were say'n, 15
When wooing they were sa thrang.[360]
And O! quo he, ann ye were as black,
As evir the crown of your dadyes hat,
Tis I wad lay thee by my back,
And awa wi' me thou sould gang. 20
And O! quoth she, ann I were as white,
As evir the snaw lay on the dike,
Ild clead me braw,[361] and lady-like,
And awa with thee Ild gang.
Between the twa was made a plot; 25
They raise a wee before the cock,
And wyliely they shot the lock,
And fast to the bent are they gane.
Up the morn the auld wife raise,[362]
And at her leisure put on her claiths, 30
Syne to the servants bed she gaes
To speir for the silly poor man.
She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay,
The strae was cauld, he was away,
She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day! 35
For some of our geir will be gane.
Some ran to coffer, and some to kist,[363]
But nought was stown[364] that could be mist.
She dancid her lane,[365] cryd, Praise be blest,
I have lodgd a leal poor man. 40
Since naithings awa, as we can learn,
The kirns to kirn,[366] and milk to earn,
Gae butt the house,[367] lass, and waken my bairn,
And bid her come quickly ben.[368]
The servant gaed where the dochter lay, 45
The sheets was cauld, she was away,
And fast to her goodwife can say,
Shes aff with the gaberlunyie-man.
O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,
And hast ye, find these traitors agen; 50
For shees be burnt, and hees be slein,
The wearyfou[369] gaberlunyie-man.
Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit,
The wife was wood,[370] and out o' her wit;
She could na gang, nor yet could she sit, 55
But ay did curse and did ban.
Mean time far hind out owre the lee,
For snug in a glen, where nane could see,
The twa, with kindlie sport and glee,
Cut frae a new cheese a whang.[371] 60
The priving[372] was gude, it pleas'd them baith,
To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith.
Quo she, to leave thee, I will be laith,
My winsome gaberlunyie-man.
O kend my minny I were wi' you, 65
Illfardly[373] wad she crook her mou,[374]
Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow,
Aftir the gaberlunyie-mon.
My dear, quo he, yee're yet owre yonge;
And hae na learnt the beggars tonge, 70
To follow me frae toun to toun,
And carrie the gaberlunyie on.
Wi' kauk and keel,[375] Ill win your bread,
And spindles and whorles[376] for them wha need,
Whilk is a gentil trade indeed 75
The gaberlunyie to carrie--o.
Ill bow my leg and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout owre my ee,
A criple or blind they will cau me:
While we sail sing and be merrie--o. 80
FOOTNOTES:
[349] Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's
daughter at Niddry, near Edinburgh.
[350] Vol. ii. p. 203.
[351] [sly old man.]
[352] [simple or poor.]
[353] [beyond the fire.]
[354] [merrily.]
[355] [exclamation of admiration or surprise.]
[356] [merry.]
[357] [fond.]
[358] [mother know.]
[359] [these sly two.]
[360] [so close.]
[361] [clad me handsomely.]
[362] Ver. 29. The carline, other copies.
[363] [chest.]
[364] [stolen.]
[365] [alone by herself.]
[366] [churns to churn.]
[367] [go to the outer apartment.]
[368] [in.]
[369] [troublesome.]
[370] [mad.]
[371] [slice.]
[372] [proof.]
[373] [ill-favouredly.]
[374] [mouth.]
[375] [chalk and ruddle.]
[376] [instruments used for spinning in Scotland.]
XI.
ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL.
It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his
friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the
latter the giddy inconstant multitude. We have here a spurn at fallen
greatness from one of the angry partisans of declining popery, who
could never forgive the downfall of their Diana and loss of their
craft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of
Cromwell's commitment to the Tower, June 10th, 1540, and that of his
being beheaded, July 28 following. A short interval! but Henry's
passion for Catharine Howard would admit of no delay. Notwithstanding
our libeller, Cromwell had many excellent qualities; his great fault
was too much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master; but
let it be considered that this master had raised him from obscurity,
and that the high-born nobility had shewn him the way in every kind of
mean and servile compliance. The original copy, printed at London in
1540, is intitled, _A newe ballade made of Thomas Crumwel, called_
"_Trolle on away_." To it is prefixed this distich by way of burthen:
"Trolle on away, trolle on awaye.
Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away."
The following piece gave rise to a poetic controversy, which was
carried on thro' a succession of seven or eight ballads, written for
and against Lord Cromwell. These are all preserved in the archives of
the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio collection of proclamations,
&c., made in the reigns of King Henry VIII., King Edward VI., Queen
Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James I., &c.
* * * * *
[Thomas Cromwell, called _Malleus Monachorum_, came of a good old
Lincolnshire family. He was born about the year 1490 at Putney,
where his father carried on the business of an iron-founder, which
his enemies reduced to that of a blacksmith. His father died early,
and in consequence of the re-marriage of his mother, he became a
wanderer.
The author of the poor play, entitled _The Life and Death of_
_Thomas Lord Cromwell_, which has been absurdly attributed to
Shakspere, makes "old Cromwell, a blacksmith, of Putney," live to
see his son "made lord keeper."
There is a fragment of a ballad on Cromwell without any beginning
in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 127), which
ends as follows:
"How now? How now? the king did say,
Thomas how is it with thee?
Hanging and drawing O King! he saide;
You shall never gett more from me."
Mr. Hales points out a coincidence not mentioned by Mr. Froude,
viz. that the minister was beheaded and the king married to
Catherine Howard on one and the same day. In 1525 Cromwell
undertook for Wolsey the work of visiting and breaking up the
small monasteries which the Pope had granted for the foundation of
Wolsey's new colleges, thus commencing the work which gained him
the enmity of the adherents of the old faith. He was the first to
cause Bibles in the English language to be deposited in all the
churches, and to him we owe the institution of parish registers.]
* * * * *
Both man and chylde is glad to here tell
Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell,
Now that he is set to learne to spell.
Synge trolle on away.
When fortune lokyd the in thy face,
Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace; 5
Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace.
Synge, &c.
Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst,
Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst,
Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst.
Synge, &c.
Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes, 10
Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes,
Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes.
Synge, &c.
Fyrste when kynge Henry, God saue his grace!
Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face,
Then it was tyme to purchase the a place. 15
Synge, &c.
Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature,
Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture;
But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure.
Synge, &c.
Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke,
One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke, 20
For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke.
Synge, &c.
Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre;
But euer was full of iniquite:
Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the.
Synge, &c.
All they, that were of the new trycke, 25
Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke;
Wherfore nowe thou haste touchyd the quycke.
Synge, &c.
Bothe sacramentes and sacramentalles
Thou woldyst not suffre within thy walles;
Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules. 30
Synge, &c.
Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell,
Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell,[377]
Or else sent vs frome the deuyll of hell.
Synge, &c.
Thou woldest neuer to vertue applye,
But couetyd euer to clymme to hye, 35
And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye.
Synge, &c.
Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose;
Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose,
Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose.
Synge, &c.
Thou myghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke 40
Upon thy gresy fullers stocke;[378]
Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke.
Yet saue that soule, that God hath bought,
And for thy carcas care thou nought,
Let it suffre payne, as it hath wrought. 45
Synge, &c.
God saue kyng Henry with all his power,
And prynce Edwarde that goodly flowre,
With al hys lordes of great honoure.
Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away.
Hevye and how rombelowe[379] trolle on awaye. 50
FOOTNOTES:
[377] Ver. 32. _i.e._ Cain, or Ishmael. See below, the note, book ii.
No. III. stanza 3rd.
[378] V. 41. Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a
blacksmith at Putney: but the author of this ballad would insinuate
that either he himself or some of his ancestors were fullers by trade.
[379] [The burden of an old song.]
XII.
HARPALUS.
AN ANCIENT ENGLISH PASTORAL.
This beautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at pastoral
writing in our language, is preserved among the _Songs and Sonnettes_
of the Earl of Surrey, &c., 4to. in that part of the collection which
consists of pieces by _uncertain auctours_. These poems were first
published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell
a victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII.; but it is presumed most of
them were composed before the death of Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1541. See
Surrey's Poems, 4to. fol. 19, 49.
Tho' written perhaps near half a century before the _Shepherd's
Calendar_,[380] this will be found far superior to any of those
eclogues, in natural unaffected sentiments, in simplicity of style, in
easy flow of versification, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry.
Spenser ought to have profited more by so excellent a model.
* * * * *
[Warton describes this poem as "perhaps the first example in our
language now remaining of the pure and unmixed pastoral, and in
the erotic species for ease of numbers, elegance of rural allusion
excelling everything of the kind in Spenser, who is erroneously
ranked as our earliest English bucolic." He did not, however,
take into account _Robin and Makine_, which follows _Harpalus_
in this book, but was written more than half a century before
it. Spenser-lovers also are not likely to agree with Percy's and
Warton's summary judgments upon the _Shepherd's Calendar_.]
* * * * *
Phylida was a faire mayde,
As fresh as any flowre;
Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde
To be his paramour.
Harpalus, and eke Corin, 5
Were herdmen both yfere:[381]
And Phylida could twist and spinne,
And thereto sing full clere.
But Phylida was all tò coye,
For Harpalus to winne: 10
For Corin was her onely joye,
Who forst[382] her not a pinne.
How often would she flowers twine?
How often garlandes make
Of couslips and of colombine? 15
And al for Corin's sake.
But Corin, he had haukes to lure,
And forced more the field:[383]
Of lovers lawe he toke no cure;
For once he was begilde. 20
Harpalus prevailed nought,
His labour all was lost;
For he was fardest from her thought,
And yet he loved her most.
Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, 25
And drye as clot of clay:
His fleshe it was consumed cleane;
His colour gone away.
His beard it had not long be shave;
His heare hong all unkempt: 30
A man most fit even for the grave,
Whom spitefull love had spent.
His eyes were red and all 'forewacht;'[384][385]
His face besprent with teares:
It semde unhap had him long 'hatcht,' 35
In mids of his dispaires.
His clothes were blacke, and also bare;
As one forlorne was he;
Upon his head alwayes he ware
A wreath of wyllow tree. 40
His beastes he kept upon the hyll,
And he sate in the dale;
And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril,
He gan to tell his tale.
Oh Harpalus! (thus would he say) 45
Unhappiest under sunne!
The cause of thine unhappy day,
By love was first begunne.
For thou wentest first by sute to seeke
A tigre to make tame, 50
That settes not by thy love a leeke;
But makes thy griefe her game.
As easy it were for to convert
The frost into 'a' flame;
As for to turne a frowarde hert, 55
Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.
Corin he liveth carèlesse:
He leapes among the leaves:
He eates the frutes of thy redresse:[386]
Thou 'reapst,' he takes the sheaves. 60
My beastes, a whyle your foode refraine,
And harke your herdmans sounde:
Whom spitefull love, alas! hath slaine,
Through-girt[387] with many a wounde.
O happy be ye, beastès wilde, 65
That here your pasture takes:
I se that ye be not begilde
Of these your faithfull makes.[388]
The hart he feedeth by the hinde:
The bucke harde by the do: 70
The turtle dove is not unkinde
To him that loves her so.
The ewe she hath by her the ramme:
The yong cow hath the bull:
The calfe with many a lusty lambe 75
Do fede their hunger full.
But, wel-away! that nature wrought
The, Phylida, so faire:
For I may say that I have bought
Thy beauty all tò deare. 80
What reason is that crueltie
With beautie should have part?
Or els that such great tyranny
Should dwell in womans hart?
I see therefore to shape my death 85
She cruelly is prest;[389]
To th'ende that I may want my breath:
My dayes been at the best.
O Cupide, graunt this my request,
And do not stoppe thine eares; 90
That she may feele within her brest
The paines of my dispaires:
Of Corin 'who' is carèlesse,
That she may crave her fee:
As I have done in great distresse, 95
That loved her faithfully.
But since that I shal die her slave;
Her slave, and eke her thrall:[390]
Write you, my frendes, upon my grave
This chaunce that is befall. 100
"Here lieth unhappy Harpalus
By cruell love now slaine:
Whom Phylida unjustly thus
Hath murdred with disdaine."
FOOTNOTES:
[380] First published in 1579.
[381] [together.]
[382] [regarded.]
[383] [cared more for field sports.]
[384] Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from ed. 1574.
[385] [overwakeful.]
[386] [care.]
[387] [pierced through.]
[388] [mates.]
[389] [ready.]
[390] [captive.]
XIII.
ROBIN AND MAKYNE.
AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH PASTORAL.
The palm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a contemporary writer
with the author of the foregoing. The critics will judge of their
respective merits; but must make some allowance for the preceding
ballad, which is given simply as it stands in the old editions; whereas
this, which follows, has been revised and amended throughout by Allan
Ramsay, from whose _Evergreen_, vol. i. it is here chiefly printed.
The curious reader may, however, compare it with the more original
copy, printed among _Ancient Scottish Poems_, from the MS. of George
Bannatyne, 1568, Edinburgh, 1770, 12mo. Mr. Robert Henryson (to whom
we are indebted for this poem) appears to so much advantage among the
writers of eclogue, that we are sorry we can give little other account
of him besides what is contained in the following eloge, written by W.
Dunbar, a Scottish poet, who lived about the middle of the sixteenth
century:
"In Dunfermline he [Death] hes done roun
Gud Maister Robert Henrisoun."
Indeed, some little further insight into the history of this Scottish
bard is gained from the title prefixed to some of his poems preserved
in the British Museum, viz. _The morall Fabillis of Esop_, compylit be
Maister Robert Henrisoun, scolmaister of Dumfermling, 1571. Harl. MSS.
3865, § 1.
In Ramsay's _Evergreen_, vol. i. are preserved two other little Doric
pieces by Henryson: the one intitled _The Lyon and the Mouse_, the
other _The garment of gude Ladyis_. Some other of his poems may be seen
in the _Ancient Scottish Poems_, printed from Bannatyne's MS. above
referred to.
* * * * *
[This remarkable poem is peculiarly interesting as being the
earliest specimen of pastoral poetry in the language. Campbell
calls it "the first known pastoral, and one of the best in a
dialect rich with the favours of the pastoral muse." Langhorne
writes justly:
"In gentle Henryson's unlaboured strain
Sweet Arethusa's shepherd breath'd again."
Percy errs in describing Henryson as a contemporary of Surrey, as
the Scottish poet lived half a century before the English one. The
dates of his birth and death are not known, but he flourished in
the reign of James III. (1460-1488). "On the 10th of September,
1462, the venerable master Robert Henrysone, Licentiate in Arts and
Bachelor in Degrees, was incorporated or admitted a member of the
newly founded University of Glasgow." He was a notary public, and
probably the master of the grammar school attached to the Abbey of
Dunfermline, not as might be supposed a mere parish schoolmaster.
According to the tradition of the last century, our poet was the
representative of the family of Henryson or Henderson, of Fordell,
in the county of Fife; but Mr. David Laing thinks that it is a
gratuitous assumption to suppose that he or his predecessors ever
possessed a single acre of the lands of Fordell.
Percy has used the version given in Ramsay's _Evergreen_, which is
slightly altered in diction from the original in the Bannatyne MS.;
for instance, the last stanza occurs in the latter as follows:
"Makyne went hame blyth anneuche,
Attour the holltis hair;
Robene murnit, and Makyne leuche;
Scho sang, he sichit sair
And so left him, bayth wo and wreuch,
In dolour and in cair,
Kepand his hird under a huche
Amangis the holtis hair."
In the _Evergreen_ version, the last verse is altered to "Amang
the rushy gair," either because the words "holtis hair" occur in
verse two of the stanza, or that the Editor saw an impropriety in
the close vicinity of the similar words _holt_ and _heuch_. The two
words "holtis hair" are explained as hoary hills or hoary woods,
but Finlay (_Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads_, 1808,
vol. ii. p. 193) holds that "hair" really means high, and derives
it from Isl. har == altus. He says that a high rock in some of
the northern counties of Scotland, where the dialect is strongly
tinctured with Danish, is called "hair craig," and that the same
word lingers on in the Hare-stone of the Borough Moor, Edinburgh,
which obtained its name in the following manner: The laird of
Pennycuik held certain lands by a strange tenure. He was obliged to
mount a large stone or rock, and salute the king with three blasts
of a horn whenever he passed that way. This rock or eminence was
called the "Hare-stone," and still exists near Morningside Church.
Hoary, however, is to be understood as grey and not as white with
snow, so that the hare-stone is probably the grey stone. The word
holt may also mean a heath, and Cædmon uses the phrase "har hæð" =
hoar or grey heath.
The date (1571) attached to Henryson's version of _Æsop's Fables_
is that of transcription. It is not known when the Fables were
first printed, but they were reprinted by Robert Lekpreuik for
Henry Charteris in 1570. They are supposed to have been written
between 1470 and 1480.
Henryson wrote several other short poems, as well as the
_Testament of Cresseid_, written as a continuation or supplement
to Chaucer's _Troilus and Cresseide_, all of which have been
collected for the first time into an elegant volume by David Laing,
who has added notes and a memoir of the poet (Edinburgh, 1865).
This _Testament_ has a particular interest for us, because
Shakspere referred to it when he wrote "Cressida was a beggar"
(_Twelfth Night_, act iii. sc. 1). The lines in Henryson's poem
which illustrate this passage, are as follows:
"Thair was na buit [help], bot furth with thame scho yeid
Fra place to place, quhill cauld and houngir sair
Compellit hir to be ane rank beggair." Ll. 481-3.]
* * * * *
Robin sat on the gude grene hill,
Keipand a flock of fie,[391]
Quhen mirry[392] Makyne said him till,[393]
"O Robin rew[394] on me:
I haif thee luivt baith loud and still,[395] 5
Thir towmonds[396] twa or thre;
My dule in dern bot gif thou dill,[397]
Doubtless but dreid Ill die."
Robin replied, Now by the rude,
Naithing of love I knaw, 10
But keip my sheip undir yon wod:
Lo quhair they raik on raw.[398]
Quhat can have mart[399] thee in thy mude,[400]
Thou Makyne to me schaw;
Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?[401] 15
Fain wald I leir[402] that law.
"The law of luve gin thou wald leir,
Tak thair an A, B, C;
Be heynd,[403] courtas, and fair of feir,[404][405]
Wyse, hardy, kind and frie, 20
Sae that nae danger do the deir,[406][407]
Quhat dule in dern thou drie;[408]
Press ay to pleis,[409] and blyth appeir,
Be patient and privie."
Robin, he answert her againe, 25
I wat not quhat is luve;
But I haif marvel in certaine
Quhat makes thee thus wanrufe.[410]
The wedder is fair, and I am fain;[411]
My sheep gais hail abuve;[412] 30
And sould we pley us on the plain,
They wald us baith repruve.
"Robin, tak tent[413] unto my tale,
And wirk[414] all as I reid;[415]
And thou sall haif my heart all hale, 35
Eik and my maiden-heid:
Sen God, he sendis bute for bale,[416]
And for murning remeid,[417]
I'dern with thee bot gif I dale,[418]
Doubtless I am but deid." 40
Makyne, to-morn be this ilk tyde,
Gif ye will meit me heir,
Maybe my sheip may gang besyde,
Quhyle we have liggd full neir;
But maugre haif I, gif I byde,[419] 45
Frae thay begin to steir,
Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd,
Then Makyne mak gude cheir.
"Robin, thou reivs[420] me of my rest;
I luve bot thee alane." 50
Makyne, adieu! the sun goes west,
The day is neir-hand gane.
"Robin, in dule[421] I am so drest,
That luve will be my bane."
Makyn, gae luve quhair-eir ye list, 55
For leman I luid nane.
"Robin, I stand in sic a style,
I sich[422] and that full sair."
Makyne, I have bene here this quyle;
At hame I wish I were. 60
"Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle,
Gif thou will do nae mair."
Makyne, som other man beguyle,
For hameward I will fare.
Syne Robin on his ways he went, 65
As light as leif on tree;
But Makyne murnt and made lament,
Scho[423] trow'd him neir to see.
Robin he brayd attowre the bent:[424]
Then Makyne cried on hie, 70
"Now may thou sing, for I am shent![425]
Quhat ailis luve at me?"
Makyne went hame withouten fail,
And weirylie could weip;
Then Robin in a full fair dale 75
Assemblit all his sheip.
Be that some part of Makyne's ail,
Out-throw his heart could creip;
Hir fast he followt to assail,
And till her tuke gude keip.[426] 80
Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne,
A word for ony thing;
For all my luve, it sall be thyne,
Withouten departing.[427]
All hale thy heart for till have myne, 85
Is all my coveting;
My sheip to morn quhyle houris nyne,
Will need of nae keiping.
"Robin, thou hast heard sung and say,
In gests and storys auld, 90
The man that will not when he may,
Sall have nocht when he wald.
I pray to heaven baith nicht and day,
Be eiked[428] their cares sae cauld,
That presses first with thee to play 95
Be forrest, firth, or fauld."[429]
Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
The wether warm and fair,
And the grene wod richt neir-hand by,[430]
To walk attowre all where: 100
There may nae janglers[431] us espy,
That is in luve contrair;
Therin, Makyne, baith you and I
Unseen may mak repair.
"Robin, that warld is now away, 105
And quyt brocht till an end:
And nevir again thereto, perfay,
Sall it be as thou wend;
For of my pain thou made but play;
I words in vain did spend: 110
As thou hast done, sae sall I say,
Murn on, I think to mend."
Makyne, the hope of all my heil,[432]
My heart on thee is set;
I'll evermair to thee be leil,[433] 115
Quhyle I may live but lett,[434]
Never to fail as uthers feill,[435]
Quhat grace so eir I get.
"Robin, with thee I will not deill;
Adieu, for thus we met." 120
Makyne went hameward blyth enough,
Attowre the holtis hair;[436]
Pure Robin murnd, and Makyne leugh;[437]
Scho sang, and he sicht sair:[438]
And so left him bayth wo and wreuch,[439] 125
In dolor and in care,
Keipand his herd under a heuch,[440]
Amang the rushy gair.[441]
FOOTNOTES:
[391] [keeping a flock of sheep.]
[392] [when merry.]
[393] [unto.]
[394] [take pity.]
[395] [openly and secretly.]
[396] [these twelvemonths.]
[397] [unless thou share my secret woe.]
[398] [they extend themselves in a row.]
[399] [marred.]
[400] [mood.]
[401] [loved.]
[402] [learn.]
[403] [gentle.]
[404] [fair of countenance.]
[405] Ver. 19. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above, _heynd_, not _keynd_, as
in the Edinb. ed. 1770.
[406] [do thee hurt.]
[407] V. 21. So that no danger, Bannatyne's MS.
[408] [whatever sorrow you may endure in secret.]
[409] [be eager to please.]
[410] [uneasy.]
[411] [glad.]
[412] [go healthful in the uplands.]
[413] [heed.]
[414] [do.]
[415] [advise.]
[416] [since God sends good for evil.]
[417] [for mourning remedy.]
[418] [in secret with thee, unless I share thy favour.]
[419] [But ill will may I have if I stay.]
[420] [bereavest.]
[421] [sorrow.]
[422] [sigh.]
[423] [she.]
[424] [he hastened over the field.]
[425] [confounded.]
[426] [and took good watch of her.]
[427] [dividing.]
[428] [enlarged.]
[429] [by forest, copse, or field.]
[430] Ver. 99. Bannatyne's MS. has _woid_, not _woud_, as in ed. 1770.
[431] [tell-tales.]
[432] [health or happiness.]
[433] [true.]
[434] [live without hindrance.]
[435] Ver. 117. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above feill, not faill, as in
ed. 1770.
[436] [over the grey woods (see p. 81).]
[437] [laughed.]
[438] [sighed sore.]
[439] [wretchedness.]
[440] [height or hill.]
[441] [rushy strip of land.]
XIV.
GENTLE HERDSMAN, TELL TO ME.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND HERDSMAN.
The scene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham, in
Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over
all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great
riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous
description of the superstitions practised there in his time. See
his account of the _Virgo parathalassia_, in his colloquy, intitled,
_Peregrinatio religionis ergo_. He tells us, the rich offerings in
silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shewn him, were
incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England, but
what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a present to _our lady
of Walsingham_.[442] At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538,
this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea,
and there burnt in the presence of commissioners; who, we trust, did
not burn the jewels and the finery.
This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS. which had
greatly suffered by the hand of time; but vestiges of several of the
lines remaining, some conjectural supplements have been attempted,
which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by
italicks.[443]
* * * * *
[The shrine of the Virgin at Walsingham was the favourite English
resort of pilgrims for nearly four hundred years, and the people of
Norfolk were in great distress when their image was taken away from
them, and the stream of votaries was suddenly stopped. In a copy
of the _Reliques_ in the library of the British Museum, there is
a MS. note by William Cole to the following effect: "I was lately
informed that the identical image of our lady of Walsingham being
mured up in an old wall, and there discovered on pulling it down,
was presented by the Earl of Leicester (Coke) to a relative of his
of the Roman Catholic religion."
The shrine was connected with a Priory of Augustinian Canons, which
was founded during the episcopate of William Turbus, Bishop of
Norwich (1146-1174). When Henry III. made his pilgrimage to the
shrine in the year 1241, it had long been famous, and was probably
more frequented even than the tomb of St. Thomas a Becket at
Canterbury. Foreigners of all nations came hither on pilgrimage,
and in number and quality the devotees appear to have equalled
those who toiled to the Lady of Loretto in Italy. Several of our
kings visited the shrine after Henry III. had set the example.
Edward I. was there in 1280 and in 1296, Edward II. in 1315, and
Edward IV. and his queen in 1469. Henry VII. offered his prayers in
"our Lady's Church" at Christmas time 1486-7, and in the following
summer, after the battle of Stoke, "he sent his banner to be
offered to our Lady of Walsingham, where before he made his vows."
Spelman gives on hearsay evidence the report that Henry VIII., in
the second year of his reign, walked barefoot to Walsingham from
a neighbouring village, and then presented a valuable necklace to
the image. Bartholomew, Lord Burghersh, K.G., by his will made
in 1369, ordered a statue of himself on horseback to be made in
silver, and offered to our Lady of Walsingham; and Henry VII., in
his lifetime, gave a kneeling figure of himself. There are numerous
references to Walsingham in the _Paston Letters_, and in 1443
we find Margaret Paston writing to her husband to tell him that
her mother had vowed another image of wax of his own weight, to
"our Lady of Walsingham," and that she herself had vowed to go on
pilgrimage there for him. (Ed. Fenn, iii. 22.)
The total income of the place (including the offerings) was
reported to be _£_650 in the twenty-sixth year of Henry VIII.'s
reign, and Roger Ascham, when visiting Cologne in 1550, makes this
remark: "The Three Kings be not so rich, I believe, as was the Lady
of Walsingham." Now the treasures at Cologne are said to have been
worth six millions of francs (_£_240,000).
The road to Walsingham was a well-frequented one, and a cross
was set up in every town it passed through. An old track running
by Newmarket, Brandon, and Castle Acre, which was used by the
pilgrims, was known as the "Palmer's Way" or "Walsingham Green Way."
The Milky Way ("the Watling-street of the heavens," as Chaucer has
it) has been associated with pilgrimages in several countries. In
Norfolk, the long streaming path of light was supposed to point the
pilgrim on his road to Walsingham, and was in consequence called
the "Walsingham Way." In Italy, in France, and in the north of
Europe it has been called "St. Jago's Way," "Jacobsstrasse," &c.,
as pointing the way to Compostella, and one of its Turkish names is
"The Hadji's Way," as indicating the road to Mecca.[444]
Among the Rawlinson MSS. in the Bodleian Library is _A Lament for
Walsingham_, in the handwriting of Philip, Earl of Arundel, the
third stanza of which is as follows:
"Bitter, bitter, oh! to behould
the grasse to growe
Where the walles of Walsingam
So statly did sheue.
Such were the workes of Walsingam
While shee did stand!
Such are the wrackes as now do shewe
of that holy land!
Levell, Levell with the ground
the towres doe lye."
The whole poem is printed in the Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall,
vol. iii. p. 470.
The late Mr. John Gough Nichols published in 1849 a very
interesting volume, containing a translation of the _Colloquy of
Erasmus_, with valuable notes in illustration of it, under the
following title: "Pilgrimages to Saint Mary of Walsingham and Saint
Thomas of Canterbury, by Desiderius Erasmus, newly translated ...
and illustrated by J. G. Nichols. Westminster. 1849." sm. 8vo. This
work has lately been reprinted.
An excellent description of Walsingham Priory, with an account of
the excavations made on its site in 1853, will be found in Henry
Harrod's _Gleanings among the Castles and Convents of Norfolk_,
8vo. Norwich, 1857, pp. 155-197.]
* * * * *
Gentle heardsman, tell to me,
Of curtesy I thee pray,
Unto the towne of Walsingham
Which is the right and ready way.
"Unto the towne of Walsingham 5
The way is hard for to be gon;
And verry crooked are those pathes
For you to find out all alone."
Weere the miles doubled thrise,
And the way never soe ill, 10
Itt were not enough for mine offence;
Itt is soe grievous and soe ill.
"Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire,
Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene;
Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, 15
For to committ so great a sinne."
Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say,
If thou knewest soe much as I;
My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest,
Have well deserved for to dye. 20
I am not what I seeme to bee,
My clothes and sexe doe differ farr:
I am a woman, woe is me!
_Born_[445] to greeffe and irksome care.
_For my_ beloved, and well-beloved, 25
_My wayward cruelty could kill:_
_And though my teares will nought avail,_
_Most dearely I bewail him_ still.
_He was the flower of n_oble wights,
_None ever more sincere colde_ bee; 30
_Of comely mien and shape_ hee was,
_And tenderlye he_e loved mee.
_When thus I saw he lo_ved me well,
_I grewe so proud his pa_ine to see,
_That I, who did not_ know myselfe, 35
_Thought scorne of such a youth_ as hee.
[446]And grew soe coy and nice to please,
As women's lookes are often soe,
He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth,
Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. 40
Thus being wearyed with delayes
To see I pittyed not his greeffe,
He gott him to a secrett place,
And there he dyed without releeffe.
And for his sake these weeds I weare, 45
And sacriffice my tender age;
And every day Ile begg my bread,
To undergoe this pilgrimage.
Thus every day I fast and pray,
And ever will doe till I dye; 50
And gett me to some secrett place,
For soe did hee, and soe will I.
Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more,
But keepe my secretts I thee pray;
Unto the towne of Walsingam 55
Show me the right and readye way.
"Now goe thy wayes, and God before!
For he must ever guide thee still:
Turne downe that dale, the right hand path,
And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well!" 60
* * * * *
[***] To shew what constant tribute was paid to _Our Lady of_
_Walsingham_, I shall give a few extracts from the "_Houshold-Book_
_of Henry Algernon Percy_, 5th Earl of Northumberland." Printed
1770, 8vo.
Sect. xliii. p. 337, &c.
_Item_, My Lorde usith yerly to send afor Michaelmas for his
Lordschip's Offerynge to our Lady of Walsyngeham.--_iiij_ d.
_Item_, My Lorde usith ande accustumyth to sende yerely for the
upholdynge of the Light of Wax which his Lordschip fyndith
birnynge yerly befor our Lady of Walsyngham, contenynge _xj_
lb. of Wax in it after _vij_ d. ob. for the fyndynge of every
lb. redy wrought by a covenaunt maid with the Channon by
great, for the hole yere, for the fyndinge of the said Lyght
byrnning,--_vi_ s. _viiij_ d.
_Item_, My Lord useth and accustomith to syende yerely to the
Channon that kepith the Light before our Lady of Walsyngham,
for his reward for the hole yere, for kepynge of the said
Light, lightynge of it at all service tymes dayly thorowt the
yere,--_xij_ d.
_Item_, My Lord usith and accustomyth yerely to send to the Prest
that kepith the Light, lyghtynge of it at all service tymes
daily thorowt the yere,--_iij_ s. _iiij_ d.
FOOTNOTES:
[442] See at the end of this ballad an account of the annual offerings
of the Earls of Northumberland.
[443] [In the Folio MS. is the following note by Percy:--"Since I first
transcribed this song for the press part of the leaf has been worne
away. It was once exactly as I have represented it in my book." Ed.
Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 526.]
[444] [R. J. King's _Sketches and Studies_, 1874, p. 262.]
[445] [Mr. Furnivall suggests _a prey_.]
[446] Three of the following stanzas have been finely paraphrased by
Dr. _Goldsmith_, in his charming ballad of _Edwin and Emma_; the reader
of taste will have a pleasure in comparing them with the original.
"'And' still I try'd each fickle art,
Importunate and vain;
And while his passion touch'd my heart,
I triumph'd in his pain.
"'Till quite dejected with my scorn,
He left me to my pride,
And sought a solitude forlorn,
In secret, where he dy'd.
"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay;
I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay.
"And there forlorn despairing hid,
I'll lay me down and die:
'Twas so for me that Edwin did
And so for him will I."
[Goldsmith did not follow the last two verses, but made his ending
much more sentimental than that of the old ballad.]
XV.
K. EDWARD IV. AND TANNER OF TAMWORTH
Was a story of great fame among our ancestors. The author of the
_Art of English poesie_, 1589, 4to, seems to speak of it as a real
fact.--Describing that vicious mode of speech, which the Greeks
called _Acyron_, _i.e._ "When we use a dark and obscure word, utterly
repugnant to that we should express;" he adds, "Such manner of uncouth
speech did the Tanner of Tamworth use to king Edward the fourth; which
Tanner, having a great while mistaken him, and used very broad talke
with him, at length perceiving by his traine that it was the king, was
afraide he should be punished for it, [and] said thus, with a certain
rude repentance,
'_I hope I shall be hanged to-morrow_,'
for [_I feare me_] _I shall be hanged_; whereat the king laughed a
good,[447] not only to see the Tanner's vaine feare, but also to heare
his illshapen terme: and gave him for recompence of his good sport,
the inheritance of Plumpton-parke. _I am afraid_," concludes this
sagacious writer, "_the poets of our times that speake more finely
and correctedly, will come too short of such a reward_," p. 214.--The
phrase, here referred to, is not found in this ballad at present,[448]
but occurs with some variation in another old poem, intitled _John
the Reeve_, described in the following volume (see the Preface to _the
King and the Miller_),[449] viz.
"Nay, sayd John, by Gods grace,
And Edward wer in this place,
Hee shold not touch this tonne:
He wold be wroth with John _I hope_,
Thereffore I beshrew the soupe,
That in his mouth shold come." Pt. ii. st. 24.
The following text is selected (with such other corrections as
occurred) from two copies in black-letter. The one in the Bodleyan
library, intitled, "A merrie, pleasant, and delectable historie
betweene K. Edward the Fourth, and a Tanner of Tamworth, &c. printed at
London, by John Danter, 1596." This copy, ancient as it now is, appears
to have been modernized and altered at the time it was published; and
many vestiges of the more ancient readings were recovered from another
copy, (though more recently printed,) in one sheet folio, without date,
in the Pepys collection.
But these are both very inferior in point of antiquity to the old
ballad of _The King and the Barker_, reprinted with other "Pieces of
Ancient Popular Poetry from Authentic Manuscripts and old Printed
Copies, &c." Lond. 1791, 8vo. As that very antique Poem had never
occurred to the Editor of the Reliques, till he saw it in the above
collection, he now refers the curious reader to it, as an imperfect and
incorrect copy of the old original ballad.
* * * * *
[This ballad was a great favourite with our ancestors and is
probably of considerable antiquity.
The earliest entry of it upon the Registers of the Stationers'
Company is to William Griffith in 1564, but no such edition is
known to bibliographers. It is possible, however, that Puttenham
may have found the line quoted above--
"I hope I shall be hanged to-morrow"
in that edition.
It belongs to the large class of tales in which the sovereign is
made to converse on terms of good fellowship with a humble subject.
The interesting ballad of _John the Reeve_ referred to by Percy is
printed for the first time in Hales and Furnivall's edition of the
Folio Manuscript (vol. ii. p. 550.)
The Tanner of Tamworth is introduced into the first part of
Heywood's _Edward IV._ The ballad _Under the greenwood tree_, among
the Ashmole MSS. at Oxford, _Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar_,
and _Robin Hood and the Monk_, all begin with the same words as
this ballad--
"In summer time when leaves grow green."
The present version is an eclectic copy, polished and reversified
by Percy.]
* * * * *
In summer time, when leaves grow greene,
And blossoms bedecke the tree,
King Edward wolde a hunting ryde,
Some pastime for to see.
With hawke and hounde he made him bowne,[450] 5
With horne, and eke with bowe;
To Drayton Basset he tooke his waye,
With all his lordes a rowe.
And he had ridden ore dale and downe
By eight of clocke in the day, 10
When he was ware of a bold tannèr,
Come ryding along the waye.
A fayre russet coat the tanner had on
Fast buttoned under his chin,
And under him a good cow-hide, 15
And a mare of four shilling.[451]
Nowe stand you still, my good lordes all,
Under the grene wood spraye;
And I will wend to yonder fellowe,
To weet[452] what he will saye. 20
God speede, God speede thee, said our king,
Thou art welcome, sir, sayd hee.
"The readyest waye to Drayton Basset
I praye thee to shewe to mee."
"To Drayton Basset woldst thou goe, 25
Fro the place where thou dost stand?
The next payre of gallowes thou comest unto,
Turne in upon thy right hand."
That is an unreadye waye, sayd our king,
Thou doest but jest I see: 30
Nowe shewe me out the nearest waye,
And I pray thee wend with mee.
Awaye with a vengeance! quoth the tanner:
I hold thee out of thy witt:
All daye have I rydden on Brocke my mare, 35
And I am fasting yett.
"Go with me downe to Drayton Basset,
No daynties we will spare;
All daye shalt thou eate and drinke of the best,
And I will paye thy fare." 40
Gramercye[453] for nothing, the tanner replyde,
Thou payest no fare of mine:
I trowe I've more nobles in my purse,
Than thou hast pence in thine.
God give thee joy of them, sayd the king, 45
And send them well to priefe.[454]
The tanner wolde faine have beene away,
For he weende he had beene a thiefe.
What art thou, hee sayde, thou fine fellòwe,
Of thee I am in great feare, 50
For the cloathes, thou wearest upon thy backe,
Might beseeme a lord to weare.
I never stole them, quoth our king,
I tell you, sir, by the roode.
"Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth, 55
And standest in midds of thy goode."[455]
What tydinges heare you, sayd the kynge,
As you ryde farre and neare?
"I heare no tydinges, sir, by the masse,
But that cowe-hides are deare." 60
"Cowe-hides! cowe-hides! what things are those?
I marvell what they bee?"
What art thou a foole? the tanner reply'd;
I carry one under mee.
What craftsman art thou, said the king, 65
I praye thee tell me trowe.
"I am a barker,[456] sir, by my trade;
Nowe tell me what art thou?"
I am a poore courtier, sir, quoth he,
That am forth of service worne; 70
And faine I wolde thy prentise bee,
Thy cunninge for to learne.
Marrye heaven forfend,[457] the tanner replyde,
That thou my prentise were:
Thou woldst spend more good than I shold winne 75
By fortye shilling a yere.
Yet one thinge wolde I, sayd our king,
If thou wilt not seeme strange:
Thoughe my horse be better than thy mare,
Yet with thee I faine wold change. 80
"Why if with me thou faine wilt change,
As change full well maye wee,
By the faith of my bodye, thou proude fellòwe,
I will have some boot[458] of thee."
That were against reason, sayd the king, 85
I sweare, so mote I thee:[459]
My horse is better than thy mare,
And that thou well mayst see.
"Yea, sir, but Brocke is gentle and mild,
And softly she will fare: 90
Thy horse is unrulye and wild, I wiss;
Aye skipping here and theare."
What boote wilt thou have? our king reply'd;
Now tell me in this stound.[460]
"Noe pence, nor half pence, by my faye, 95
But a noble in gold so round."
"Here's twentye groates of white moneyè,
Sith thou will have it of mee."
I would have sworne now, quoth the tanner,
Thou hadst not had one penniè. 100
But since we two have made a change,
A change we must abide,
Although thou hast gotten Brocke my mare,
Thou gettest not my cowe-hide.
I will not have it, sayd the kynge, 105
I sweare, so mought I thee;
Thy foule cowe-hide I wolde not beare,
If thou woldst give it to mee.
The tanner hee tooke his good cowe-hide,
That of the cow was hilt; 110
And threwe it upon the king's sadèlle,
That was soe fayrelye gilte.
"Now help me up, thou fine fellòwe,
'Tis time that I were gone:
When I come home to Gyllian my wife, 115
Sheel say I am a gentilmon."
The king he tooke him up by the legge;
The tanner a f ** lett fall.
Nowe marrye, good fellowe, sayd the kyng,
Thy courtesye is but small. 120
When the tanner he was in the kinges sadèlle,
And his foote in the stirrup was;
He marvelled greatlye in his minde,
Whether it were golde or brass.
But when his steede saw the cows taile wagge, 125
And eke the blacke cowe-horne;
He stamped, and stared, and awaye he ranne,
As the devill had him borne.
The tanner he pulld, the tanner he sweat,
And held by the pummil fast: 130
At length the tanner came tumbling downe;
His necke he had well-nye brast.[461]
Take thy horse again with a vengeance, he sayd,
With mee he shall not byde.
"My horse wolde have borne thee well enoughe, 135
But he knewe not of thy cowe-hide.
Yet if againe thou faine woldst change,
As change full well may wee,
By the faith of my bodye, thou jolly tannèr,
I will have some boote of thee." 140
What boote wilt thou have, the tanner replyd,
Nowe tell me in this stounde?
"Noe pence nor halfpence, sir, by my faye,
But I will have twentye pound."
"Here's twentye groates out of my purse; 145
And twentye I have of thine:
And I have one more, which we will spend
Together at the wine."
The king set a bugle horne to his mouthe,
And blewe both loude and shrille: 150
And soone came lords, and soone came knights,
Fast ryding over the hille.
Nowe, out alas! the tanner he cryde,
That ever I sawe this daye!
Thou art a strong thiefe, yon come thy fellowes 155
Will beare my cowe-hide away.
They are no thieves, the king replyde,
I sweare, soe mote I thee:
But they are the lords of the north countrèy,
Here come to hunt with mee. 160
And soone before our king they came,
And knelt downe on the grounde:
Then might the tanner have beene awaye,
He had lever than twentye pounde.
A coller, a coller, here: sayd the king, 165
A coller he loud gan crye;
Then woulde he lever then twentye pound,
He had not beene so nighe.
A coller, a coller, the tanner he sayd,
I trowe it will breed sorrowe: 170
After a coller commeth a halter,
I trow I shall be hang'd to-morrowe.
Be not afraid Tanner, said our king;
I tell thee, so mought I thee,
Lo here I make thee the best esquire 175
That is in the North countrie.[462]
For Plumpton-parke I will give thee,
With tenements faire beside:
'Tis worth three hundred markes by the yeare,
To maintaine thy good cowe-hide. 180
Gramercye, my liege, the tanner replyde,
For the favour thou hast me showne;
If ever thou comest to merry Tamwòrth,
Neates leather shall clout thy shoen.[463]
[***]
FOOTNOTES:
[447] [for good deal.]
[448] Nor in that of the _Barker_ mentioned below.
[449] [Vol. iii. Book 2, No. 20.]
[450] [ready.]
[451] In the reign of Edward IV. Dame Cecill, lady of Torboke, in her
will dated March 7, A.D. 1466; among many other bequests has this,
"Also I will that my sonne Thomas of Torboke have 13_s._ 4_d._ to buy
him an horse." Vid. Harleian Catalog. 2176. 27.--Now if 13_s._ 4_d._
would purchase a steed fit for a person of quality, a tanner's horse
might reasonably be valued at four or five shillings.
[452] [know.]
[453] [thank you.]
[454] [prove.]
[455] _i.e._ hast no other wealth, but what thou carriest about thee.
[456] _i.e._ a dealer in bark.
[457] [avert it.]
[458] [profit.]
[459] [so may I thrive.]
[460] [moment.]
[461] [broken.]
[462] This stanza is restored from a quotation of this ballad in
Selden's _Titles of Honour_, who produces it as a good authority to
prove, that one mode of creating _Esquires_ at that time, was by the
imposition of a _Collar_. His words are, "Nor is that old pamphlet of
the Tanner of Tamworth and King Edward the Fourth so contemptible,
but that wee may thence note also an observable passage, wherein the
use of making Esquires, by giving Collars, is expressed." (Sub Tit.
Esquire; & vide in Spelmanni Glossar. Armiger.) This form of creating
Esquires actually exists at this day among the Serjeants at Arms, who
are invested with a Collar (which they wear on Collar Days) by the King
himself.
This information I owe to Samuel Pegge, Esq. to whom the publick is
indebted for that curious work the _Curialia_, 4to.
[463] [cow hide shall mend thy shoes.]
XVI.
AS YE CAME FROM THE HOLY LAND.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND TRAVELLER.
The scene of this song is the same as in Num. XIV. The pilgrimage to
Walsingham suggested the plan of many popular pieces. In the Pepys
collection, vol. i. p. 226, is a kind of Interlude in the old ballad
style, of which the first stanza alone is worth reprinting.
"As I went to Walsingham,
To the shrine with speede,
Met I with a jolly palmer
In a pilgrimes weede.
Now God you save, you jolly palmer!
'Welcome, lady gay,
Oft have I sued to thee for love.'
--Oft have I said you nay."
The pilgrimages undertaken on pretence of religion, were often
productive of affairs of gallantry, and led the votaries to no other
shrine than that of Venus.[464]
The following ballad was once very popular; it is quoted in Fletcher's
_Knt. of the burning pestle_, act ii. sc. ult. and in another old
play, called, _Hans Beer-pot, his invisible Comedy, &c._ 4to. 1618;
act i.--The copy below was communicated to the Editor by the late Mr.
Shenstone as corrected by him from an ancient copy, and supplied with a
concluding stanza.
We have placed this, and _Gentle Herdsman_, &c. thus early in the
volume, upon a presumption that they must have been written, if not
before the dissolution of the monasteries, yet while the remembrance of
them was fresh in the minds of the people.
* * * * *
[Although Percy does not mention his folio MS. this song is there,
and a copy from it is now printed at the end of Percy's version.
With the exception of the last three lines there are little
but verbal differences, but these are numerous. The ending is
strikingly inferior to that of the MS. and does very little credit
to Shenstone's poetical taste. A copy of the song in the Bodleian
library (MS. Rawl. 85 fol. 124) is signed W. R., and Dr. Bliss in
consequence claimed it for Sir Walter Raleigh in his edition of
Wood's _Athenæ_. It is inserted in the Oxford edition of Raleigh's
Works, vol. viii. p. 733, with the title--_False Love and True
Love_. Dr. Hannah also includes it in his edition of the _Courtly
Poets_, but believes it highly improbable that Raleigh wrote the
song.
Mr. Chappell points out that the first line of the ballad quoted
above is introduced in Nashe's _Have with you to Saffron Walden_,
1596. In _The Weakest goes to the Wall_, 1600, we read
"King Richard's gone to Walsingham, to the Holy Land."
The tune of _Walsingham_ was highly popular, and numerous songs
have been set to it.]
* * * * *
As ye came from the holy land
Of blessed Walsingham,
O met you not with my true love
As by the way ye came?
"How should I know your true love, 5
That have met many a one,
As I came from the holy land,
That have both come and gone?"
My love is neither white[466], nor browne,
But as the heavens faire; 10
There is none hath her form divine,
Either in earth, or ayre.
"Such an one did I meet, good sir,
With an angelicke face;
Who like a nymphe, a queene appeard 15
Both in her gait, her grace."
Yes: she hath cleane forsaken me,
And left me all alone;
Who some time loved me as her life,
And called me her owne. 20
"What is the cause she leaves thee thus,
And a new way doth take,
That some times loved thee as her life,
And thee her joy did make?"
I that loved her all my youth, 25
Growe old now as you see;
Love liketh not the falling fruite,
Nor yet the withered tree.
For love is like a carelesse childe,
Forgetting promise past: 30
He is blind, or deaf, whenere he list;
His faith is never fast.
His fond desire is fickle found,
And yieldes a trustlesse joye;
Wonne with a world of toil and care, 35
And lost ev'n with a toye.
Such is the love of womankinde,
Or Loves faire name abusde,
Beneathe which many vaine desires,
And follyes are excusde. 40
But true love is a lasting fire,
[Which viewless vestals[467] tend,
That burnes for ever in the soule,
And knowes nor change, nor end.']
[***]
* * * * *
[The following version is reprinted from the Folio MS. (ed. Hales
and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 471.)
"As: yee came ffrom the holy Land
of Walsingham,
Mett you not with my true loue
by the way as you came?" 4
"how shold I know your true loue,
that haue mett many a one
as I cam ffrom the holy Land,
that haue come, that haue gone?" 8
"Shee is neither white nor browne,
but as the heauens ffaire;
there is none hathe their fforme diuine
on the earth or the ayre." 12
"such a one did I meete, good Sir,
with an angellike fface,
who like a nimph, like a queene, did appeare
in her gate, in her grace." 16
"Shee hath left me heere alone,
all alone as vnknowne,
who sometime loued me as her liffe
and called me her owne." 20
"What is the cause shee hath left thee alone,
and a new way doth take,
that sometime did loue thee as her selfe,
and her ioy did thee make?" 24
"I haue loued her all my youth,
but now am old, as you see.
loue liketh not the ffalling ffruite
nor the whithered tree; 28
for loue is like a carlesse child,
and fforgetts promise past:
he is blind, he is deaffe when he list,
and infaith neuer ffast; 32
"his desire is ffickle, ffond,
and a trustles ioye;
he is won with a world of dispayre,
and lost with a toye. 36
such is the [fate of all man] kind,
or the word loue abused,
under which many childish desires
and conceipts are excused." 40
"But loue is a durabler ffyer
in the mind euer Burninge,
euer sicke, neuer dead, neuer cold,
ffrom itt selfe neuer turninge." 44
ffinis.]
FOOTNOTES:
[464] Even in the time of Langland, pilgrimages to Walsingham were not
unfavourable to the rites of Venus. Thus in his _Visions of Pierce
Plowman_, fo. 1.
"Hermets on a heape, with hoked staves,
Wenten to Walsingham, and her[465] wenches after."
[465] _i.e._ their.
[466] sc. pale.
[467] sc. angels.
XVII.
HARDYKNUTE.
A SCOTTISH FRAGMENT.
As this fine morsel of heroic poetry hath generally past for ancient,
it is here thrown to the end of our earliest pieces; that such as doubt
of its age, may the better compare it with other pieces of genuine
antiquity. For after all, there is more than reason to suspect, that it
owes most of its beauties (if not its whole existence) to the pen of
a lady, within the present century. The following particulars may be
depended on. Mrs. Wardlaw, whose maiden name was Halket (aunt to the
late Sir Peter Halket, of Pitferran, in Scotland, who was killed in
America, along with general Bradock, in 1755), pretended she had found
this poem, written on shreds of paper, employed for what is called the
bottoms of clues. A suspicion arose that it was her own composition.
Some able judges asserted it to be modern. The lady did in a manner
acknowledge it to be so. Being desired to shew an additional stanza,
as a proof of this, she produced the 2 last beginning with "_There's
nae light_," &c. which were not in the copy that was first printed. The
late Lord President Forbes, and Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto (late Lord
Justice Clerk for Scotland) who had believed it ancient, contributed
to the expence of publishing the first edition, in folio, 1719.--This
account was transmitted from Scotland by Sir David Dalrymple, the late
Lord Hailes, who yet was of opinion, that part of the ballad may be
ancient; but retouched and much enlarged by the lady abovementioned.
Indeed he had been informed, that the late William Thomson, the
Scottish musician, who published the _Orpheus Caledonius_, 1733, 2
vols. 8vo. declared he had heard fragments of it repeated in his
infancy, before Mrs. Wardlaw's copy was heard of.
The poem is here printed from the original edition, as it was prepared
for the press with the additional improvements.
In an elegant publication, intitled, _Scottish Tragic Ballads_, printed
by and for J. Nichols, 1781, 8vo. may be seen a continuation of the
Ballad of _Hardyknute_, by the addition of a _Second Part_, which hath
since been acknowledged to be his own composition, by the ingenious
Editor [John Pinkerton]--To whom the late Sir D. Dalrymple communicated
(subsequent to the account drawn up above) extracts of a letter from
Sir John Bruce, of Kinross, to Lord Binning, which plainly proves the
pretended discoverer of the fragment of _Hardyknute_ to have been Sir
John Bruce himself. His words are, "To perform my promise, I send you
a true copy of the Manuscript I found some weeks ago in a vault at
Dumferline. It is written on vellum in a fair Gothic character, but
so much defaced by time, as you'll find that the tenth part is not
legible." He then gives the whole fragment as it was first published
in 1719, save one or two stanzas, marking several passages as having
perished by being illegible in the old MS. Hence it appears, that Sir
John was the author of _Hardyknute_, but afterwards used Mrs. Wardlaw
to be the midwife of his poetry, and suppressed the story of the vault;
as is well observed by the Editor of the _Tragic Ballads_, and of
Maitland's _Scot. Poets_, vol. i. p. cxxvii.
To this gentleman we are indebted for the use of the copy, whence the
second edition was afterwards printed, as the same was prepared for the
press by John Clerk, M.D. of Edinburgh, an intimate companion of Lord
President Forbes.
The title of the first edition was, "_Hardyknute, a Fragment_.
Edinburgh, printed for James Watson, &c. 1719," folio, 12 pages.
Stanzas not in the first edition are, Nos. 17, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 34,
35, 36, 37, 41, 42.
In the present impression the orthography of Dr. Clerk's copy has
been preserved, and his readings carefully followed, except in a few
instances, wherein the common edition appeared preferable: _viz._ He
had in ver. 20. _but._--v. 56. _of harm._--v. 64. _every._--v. 67.
_lo down._--v. 83. _That_ omitted.--v. 89. _And_ omitted.--v. 143.
_With argument but vainly strave Lang._--v. 148. _say'd._--v. 155.
_incampit on the plain._--v. 156. _Norse squadrons._--v. 158. _regand
revers._--v. 170. _his strides he bent._--v. 171. _minstrals playand
Pibrochs fine._--v. 172. _stately went._--v. 182. _mon._--v. 196.
_sharp and fatal._--v. 219. _which._--v. 241. _stood wyld._--Stanza 39
preceded stanza 38.--v. 305. _There._--v. 313. _blew westling._--v.
336. had originally been, _He fear'd a' cou'd be fear'd_.
The Editor was also informed, on the authority of Dr. David Clerk, M.D.
of Edinburgh (son of the aforesaid Dr. John Clerk), that between the
present stanzas 36 and 37, the two following had been intended, but
were on maturer consideration omitted, and do not now appear among the
MS. additions:
"Now darts flew wavering through slaw speed,
Scarce could they reach their aim;
Or reach'd, scarce blood the round point drew,
'Twas all but shot in vain:
Right strengthy arms forfeebled grew,
Sair wreck'd wi' that day's toils:
E'en fierce-born minds now lang'd for peace,
And curs'd war's cruel broils.
"Yet still wars horns sounded to charge,
Swords clash'd and harness rang;
But saftly sae ilk blaster blew
The hills and dales fraemang.
Nae echo heard in double dints,
Nor the lang-winding horn,
Nae mair she blew out brade as she
Did eir that summers morn."
* * * * *
[Elizabeth Halket, second daughter of Sir Charles Halket of
Pitfirrane, Fife, and wife of Sir Henry Wardlaw of Pitrivie, Fife
and Balmulie near Dunfermline, who was born in the year 1677,
married in 1696, and died in 1727, is now known to have been the
authoress of _Hardyknute_, although it was many years before the
question of the authorship was finally settled.
Mr. David Laing once possessed a copy of this ballad printed in a
duodecimo of eight pages without date, which is supposed to be the
original edition. Besides various differences, some important and
others minute, it does not contain stanzas 27, 28 and 40, which
are printed in the folio of 1719. It was reprinted several times
before Percy included it in his book, and its antiquity does not
seem to have been doubted, for the editor of the edition of 1740
speaks of it as a specimen of the true sublime, and believes that
"it can only be the work of an author highly smitten with the fury
of a poetical genius." Allan Ramsay's _Evergreen_, 1724, vol. ii.
contains this ballad with the twelve additional stanzas noted above
by Percy.
When Percy first printed the ballad suspicions of its authenticity
had been expressed, which soon led to the discovery of the writer,
but after having stated who was the real author, he threw doubts
upon his statement on account of Pinkerton's truthless report.
Pinkerton was never to be depended upon, and he had previously
affirmed that the common people of Lanarkshire "repeat scraps of
_both parts_," although the second was his own composition. Sir
John Hope Bruce had nothing to do with the composition of the
ballad, and it is even doubtful whether his supposed letter to
Lord Binning ever had any existence. If it had, it was merely
a mystification. On the second of December, 1785, Lord Hailes
wrote to Pinkerton as follows, "You mistook if you suppose that I
reckoned Sir John Bruce to be the author of _Hardyknute_. It is his
sister-in-law, Lady Wardlaw, who is said to have been the author."
Yet Pinkerton made Percy believe that Bruce was the author. Great
difference of opinion has been expressed as to the merit of the
ballad by various critics. Mathias was fascinated with it, and
printed it privately with an encomiastic criticism. Scott wrote on
the fly-leaf of his copy of Ramsay's _Evergreen_, "_Hardyknute_ was
the first poem I ever learnt--the last that I shall forget," and
in his _Minstrelsy of the Border_ he terms it "a most spirited
and beautiful imitation of the ancient ballad." Thomas Warton was
deceived by it, and describes it as genuine in the first edition of
his _Observations on Spenser_. In the second edition he assigns
the ballad to its true author, but adds, "I am apt to think that
the first stanza is old and gave the hint for writing the rest."
On the other side Dr. Johnson considered it to have "no great
merit," and Aytoun esteemed it a very poor performance. It has
not been popular with the ordinary devourers of ballads, and Mr.
James Maidment never had the good luck to pick up a stall copy--he
writes, "The flying stationers, the best judges of what suited
their customers, not considering it an eligible republication."
The ballad is supposed to refer to the battle of Largs, fought on
the second of October, 1263, between the invading force led by
Haco, King of Norway, and the Scottish army commanded in person by
Alexander III., but it would, in fact, suit any conflict between
Scots and Northmen. The effect of this battle was the loss to
Scandinavia of the Hebrides and the Isle of Man, which dependencies
were relinquished to Alexander III. by terms of a treaty concluded
in 1266, with Magnus, the successor of Haco. The victory was
largely due to the Lord High Steward of Scotland, who is supposed
to be represented by Hardyknute. Mr. Gilfillan notes that "Fairly
Castle, the residence of Hardyknute, stands three miles south of
the battle field. It is a single square tower, by the side of a
wild stream tumbling over a rock into a deep ravine."]
* * * * *
I.
Stately stept he east the wa',[468]
And stately stept he west,
Full seventy years he now had seen,
Wi' scarce seven years of rest.
He liv'd when Britons breach of faith 5
Wrought Scotland mickle wae:
And ay his sword tauld to their cost,
He was their deadlye fae.
II.
High on a hill his castle stood,
With ha's[469] and tow'rs a height, 10
And goodly chambers fair to se,
Where he lodged mony a knight.
His dame sae peerless anes and fair,
For chast and beauty deem'd,
Nae marrow[470] had in all the land, 15
Save Elenor[471] the queen.
III.
Full thirteen sons to him she bare,
All men of valour stout;
In bloody fight with sword in hand
Nine lost their lives bot[472] doubt: 20
Four yet remain, lang may they live
To stand by liege and land;
High was their fame, high was their might,
And high was their command.
IV.
Great love they bare to Fairly fair, 25
Their sister saft and dear,
Her girdle shaw'd her middle gimp,[473]
And gowden glist[474] her hair.
What waefu' wae her beauty bred?
Waefu' to young and auld, 30
Waefu' I trow to kyth and kin,
As story ever tauld.
V.
The king of Norse in summer tyde,
Puff'd up with pow'r and might,
Landed in fair Scotland the isle 35
With mony a hardy knight.
The tydings to our good Scots king
Came, as he sat at dine,
With noble chiefs in brave aray,
Drinking the blood-red wine. 40
VI.
"To horse, to horse, my royal liege,
Your faes stand on the strand,
Full twenty thousand glittering spears
The king of Norse commands."
Bring me my steed Mage dapple gray, 45
Our good king rose and cry'd,
A trustier beast in a' the land
A Scots king nevir try'd.
VII.
Go little page, tell Hardyknute,
That lives on hill sae hie, 50
To draw his sword, the dread of faes,
And haste and follow me.
The little page flew swift as dart
Flung by his master's arm,
"Come down, come down, lord Hardyknute, 55
And rid your king frae harm."
VIII.
Then red red grew his dark-brown cheeks,
Sae did his dark-brown brow;
His looks grew keen, as they were wont
In dangers great to do; 60
He's ta'en a horn as green as grass,
And gi'en five sounds sae shill,[475]
That trees in green wood shook thereat,
Sae loud rang ilka hill.
IX.
His sons in manly sport and glee, 65
Had past that summer's morn,
When low down in a grassy dale,
They heard their father's horn.
That horn, quo' they, ne'er sounds in peace,
We've other sport to bide. 70
And soon they hy'd them up the hill,
And soon were at his side.
X.
"Late late the yestreen[476] I ween'd in peace
To end my lengthened life,
My age might well excuse my arm 75
Frae manly feats of strife;
But now that Norse do's proudly boast
Fair Scotland to inthrall,
It's ne'er be said of Hardyknute,
He fear'd to fight or fall. 80
XI.
"Robin of Rothsay, bend thy bow
Thy arrows shoot sae leel,[477]
That mony a comely countenance
They've turnd to deadly pale.
Brade[478] Thomas take you but your lance, 85
You need nae weapons mair,
If you fight wi't as you did anes
'Gainst Westmoreland's fierce heir.
XII.
"And Malcolm, light of foot as stag
That runs in forest wild, 90
Get me my thousands three of men
Well bred to sword and shield:
Bring me my horse and harnisine,[479]
My blade of mettal clear.
If faes but ken'd the hand it bare, 95
They soon had fled for fear.
XIII.
"Farewell my dame sae peerless good,
(And took her by the hand),
Fairer to me in age you seem,
Than maids for beauty fam'd. 100
My youngest son shall here remain
To guard these stately towers,
And shut the silver bolt that keeps
Sae fast your painted bowers."
XIV.
And first she wet her comely cheiks, 105
And then her boddice green,
Her silken cords of twirtle twist,[480]
Well plett with silver sheen;
And apron set with mony a dice
Of needle-wark sae rare, 110
Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess,
Save that of Fairly fair.
XV.
And he has ridden o'er muir and moss,
O'er hills and mony a glen,
When he came to a wounded knight 115
Making a heavy mane;
"Here maun I lye, here maun I dye,
By treacherie's false guiles;
Witless I was that e'er ga faith
To wicked woman's smiles." 120
XVI.
"Sir knight, gin you were in my bower,
To lean on silken seat,
My lady's kindly care you'd prove,
Who ne'er knew deadly hate:
Herself wou'd watch you a' the day, 125
Her maids a dead of night;
And Fairly fair your heart wou'd chear,
As she stands in your sight.
XVII.
"Arise young knight, and mount your stead,
Full lowns the shynand day:[481] 130
Choose frae my menzie[482] whom ye please
To lead you on the way."
With smileless look, and visage wan
The wounded knight reply'd,
"Kind chieftain, your intent pursue, 135
For here I maun abyde.
XVIII.
To me nae after day nor night
Can e're be sweet or fair,
But soon beneath some draping tree,
Cauld death shall end my care." 140
With him nae pleading might prevail;
Brave Hardyknute to gain
With fairest words, and reason strong,
Strave courteously in vain.
XIX.
Syne he has gane far hynd out o'er[483] 145
Lord Chattan's land sae wide;
That lord a worthy wight was ay,
When faes his courage sey'd:[484]
Of Pictish race by mother's side,
When Picts rul'd Caledon, 150
Lord Chattan claim'd the princely maid,
When he sav'd Pictish crown.
XX.
Now with his fierce and stalwart train,
He reach'd a rising hight,
Quhair braid encampit on the dale, 155
Norss menzie[485] lay in sicht.
"Yonder my valiant sons and feirs[486]
Our raging revers[487] wait
On the unconquert Scottish sward
To try with us their fate. 160
XXI.
"Make orisons to him that sav'd
Our sauls upon the rude;[488]
Syne[489] bravely shaw your veins are fill'd
With Caledonian blude."
Then furth he drew his trusty glave,[490] 165
While thousands all around
Drawn frae their sheaths glanc'd in the sun;
And loud the bougles sound.
XXII.
To joyn his king adoun the hill
In hast his merch he made, 170
While, playand pibrochs, minstralls meit[491]
Afore him stately strade.
"Thrice welcome valiant stoup of weir,[492]
Thy nations shield and pride;
Thy king nae reason has to fear 175
When thou art by his side."
XXIII.
When bows were bent and darts were thrawn;
For thrang scarce cou'd they flee;
The darts clove arrows as they met,
The arrows dart[493] the tree. 180
Lang did they rage and fight fu' fierce,
With little skaith to mon,
But bloody bloody was the field,
Ere that lang day was done.
XXIV.
The king of Scots, that sindle[494] brook'd 185
The war that look'd like play,
Drew his braid sword, and brake his bow,
Sin bows seem'd but delay.
Quoth noble Rothsay, "Mine I'll keep,
I wat it's bled a score." 190
Haste up my merry men, cry'd the king,
As he rode on before.
XXV.
The king of Norse he sought to find,
With him to mense[495] the faught,
But on his forehead there did light 195
A sharp unsonsie[496] shaft;
As he his hand put up to feel
The wound, an arrow keen,
O waefu' chance! there pinn'd his hand
In midst between his een. 200
XXVI.
"Revenge, revenge, cry'd Rothsay's heir,
Your mail-coat sha' na bide
The strength and sharpness of my dart:"
Then sent it through his side.
Another arrow well he mark'd, 205
It pierc'd his neck in twa,
His hands then quat[497] the silver reins,
He low as earth did fa'.
XXVII.
"Sair bleids my liege, sair, sair he bleeds!"
Again wi' might he drew 210
And gesture dread his sturdy bow,
Fast the braid arrow flew:
Wae to the knight he ettled at;[498]
Lament now queen Elgreed;
High dames too wail your darling's fall, 215
His youth and comely meed.
XXVIII.
"Take aff, take aff his costly jupe[499]
(Of gold well was it twin'd,
Knit like the fowler's net, through quhilk,
His steelly harness shin'd) 220
Take, Norse, that gift frae me, and bid
Him venge the blood it bears;
Say, if he face my bended bow,
He sure nae weapon fears."
XXIX.
Proud Norse with giant body tall, 225
Braid shoulders and arms strong,
Cry'd, "Where is Hardyknute sae fam'd,
And fear'd at Britain's throne:
Tho' Britons tremble at his name,
I soon shall make him wail, 230
That e'er my sword was made sae sharp,
Sae saft his coat of mail."
XXX.
That brag his stout heart cou'd na bide,
It lent him youthfu' micht:
"I'm Hardyknute; this day, he cry'd, 235
To Scotland's king I heght[500]
To lay thee low, as horses hoof;
My word I mean to keep."
Syne with the first stroke e'er he strake,
He garr'd[501] his body bleed. 240
XXXI.
Norss' een like gray gosehawk's stair'd wyld,
He sigh'd wi' shame and spite;
"Disgrac'd is now my far-fam'd arm
That left thee power to strike:"
Then ga' his head a blow sae fell, 245
It made him doun to stoup,
As laigh as he to ladies us'd
In courtly guise to lout.[502]
XXXII.
Fu' soon he rais'd his bent body,
His bow he marvell'd sair, 250
Sin blows till then on him but darr'd[503]
As touch of Fairly fair:
Norse marvell'd too as sair as he
To see his stately look;
Sae soon as e'er he strake a fae, 255
Sae soon his life he took.
XXXIII.
Where like a fire to heather set,
Bauld Thomas did advance,
Ane sturdy fae with look enrag'd
Up toward him did prance; 260
He spurr'd his steid through thickest ranks
The hardy youth to quell,
Wha stood unmov'd at his approach
His fury to repell.
XXXIV.
"That short brown shaft sae meanly trimm'd, 265
Looks like poor Scotlands gear,
But dreadfull seems the rusty point!"
And loud he leugh in jear.[504]
"Oft Britons b[l]ood has dimm'd its shine;
This point cut short their vaunt:" 270
Syne pierc'd the boasters bearded cheek;
Nae time he took to taunt.
XXXV.
Short while he in his saddle swang,
His stirrup was nae stay,
Sae feeble hang his unbent knee 275
Sure taiken he was fey:[505]
Swith[506] on the harden't clay he fell,
Right far was heard the thud:
But Thomas look't nae as he lay
All waltering in his blud.
XXXVI.
With careless gesture, mind unmov't,
On rode he north the plain;
His seem in throng of fiercest strife,
When winner ay the same:
Not yet his heart dames dimplet cheek 285
Could mease[507] soft love to bruik,
Till vengefu' Ann return'd his scorn,
Then languid grew his luik.
XXXVII.
In thraws of death, with walowit[508] cheik
All panting on the plain, 290
The fainting corps of warriours lay,
Ne're to arise again;
Ne're to return to native land,
Nae mair with blithsome sounds
To boast the glories of the day, 295
And shaw their shining wounds.
XXXVIII.
On Norways coast the widowit dame
May wash the rocks with tears,
May lang luik ow'r the shipless seas
Befor her mate appears. 300
Cease, Emma, cease to hope in vain;
Thy lord lyes in the clay;
The valiant Scots nae revers thole[509]
To carry life away.
XXXIX.
Here on a lee, where stands a cross 305
Set up for monument,
Thousands fu' fierce that summer's day
Fill'd keen war's black intent.
Let Scots, while Scots, praise Hardyknute,
Let Norse the name ay dread, 310
Ay how he faught, aft how he spar'd,
Shall latest ages read.
XL.
Now loud and chill blew th' westlin wind,
Sair beat the heavy shower,
Mirk[510] grew the night ere Hardyknute 315
Wan[511] near his stately tower.
His tow'r that us'd wi' torches blaze
To shine sae far at night,
Seem'd now as black as mourning weed,
Nae marvel sair he sigh'd. 320
XLI.
"There's nae light in my lady's bower,
There's nae light in my ha';
Nae blink shines round my Fairly fair,
Nor ward[512] stands on my wa'."
"What bodes it? Robert, Thomas, say;"-- 325
Nae answer fitts their dread.
"Stand back, my sons, I'le be your guide;"
But by they past with speed.
XLII.
"As fast I've sped owre Scotlands faes,"--
There ceas'd his brag of weir, 330
Sair sham'd to mind ought but his dame,
And maiden Fairly fair.
Black fear he felt, but what to fear
He wist nae yet; wi' dread
Sair shook his body, sair his limbs, 335
And a' the warrior fled.
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
[468] [wall or rampart of the castle.]
[469] [halls.]
[470] [match or equal.]
[471] [Margaret was the name of the queen of Alexander III. Her mother
was Eleanor, Queen of England.]
[472] [without.]
[473] [slender.]
[474] [shone like gold.]
[475] [so shrill.]
[476] [yester even.]
[477] [true.]
[478] [broad.]
[479] [armour.]
[480] [twirled twist.]
[481] [full calm the shining day becomes.]
[482] [retinue.]
[483] [gone far over the country.]
[484] [tried.]
[485] [the horse army.]
[486] [companions.]
[487] [spoilers or robbers.]
[488] [cross.]
[489] [then.]
[490] [sword.]
[491] [proper.]
[492] [pillar of war.]
[493] [hit.]
[494] [seldom.]
[495] [to measure or try the battle.]
[496] [unlucky.]
[497] [quitted.]
[498] [aimed at.]
[499] [upper garment.]
[500] [promised.]
[501] [made.]
[502] [bend low.]
[503] [hit.]
[504] [in derision.]
[505] [sure token he was doomed to death.]
[506] [at once.]
[507] [mollify.]
[508] [faded.]
[509] [suffer.]
[510] [dark.]
[511] [drew near.]
[512] [warden.]
THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
[Illustration]
RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.
SERIES THE SECOND.