13. i.e. did not salute.84. pounds. MS.121-4. This stanza occurs also inJohnie Armstrang, vol. vi. p. 44.156. That is the Great Harry, built in 1504, at an expense of fourteen thousand pounds. "She was," says Hume, "properly speaking, the first ship in the English navy. Before this period, when the prince wanted a fleet, he had no other expedient than hiring or pressing ships from the merchants."175-6.... Erle of Nottingham, And soe was never, &c. MS.
13. i.e. did not salute.
84. pounds. MS.
121-4. This stanza occurs also inJohnie Armstrang, vol. vi. p. 44.
156. That is the Great Harry, built in 1504, at an expense of fourteen thousand pounds. "She was," says Hume, "properly speaking, the first ship in the English navy. Before this period, when the prince wanted a fleet, he had no other expedient than hiring or pressing ships from the merchants."
175-6.... Erle of Nottingham, And soe was never, &c. MS.
From Ritson'sAncient Songs, ii. 70.
"The battle of Flodden, in Northumberland, was fought the 9th of September, 1513, being the fifth year of King Henry the Eighth (who, with a great army, was then before Terouen in France), between Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, commander-in-chief of the English forces, and James the Fourth, King of Scots, with an inferior army of 15,000 men, who were entirely routed with great slaughter, their heroic sovereign being left dead upon the field.
"The following ballad may possibly be as ancient as any thing we have on the subject. It is given fromThe most pleasant and delectible history of John Winchcomb, otherwise called Jack of Newberry, written by Thomas Deloney, who thus speaks of it: 'In disgrace of the Scots, and in remembrance of the famous atchieved victory, the commons of England made this song, which to this day is not forgotten of many.'"
This ballad is very evidently not the work of Deloney, but derived by him from tradition.
There is a piece calledFlodden Fieldin Herd'sScottish Songs, i. 86. It is made up of certain ridiculous anonymous verses, and of the stanzas written by Miss Jane Elliot and by Mrs. Cockburn to the old airThe Flowers of the Forest,—"I've heard them lilting," and "I've seen the smiling." The first and last lines of the first stanza of Miss Elliot's verses are from an ancient and now forgotten song.
"I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking..................The flowers of the forest are a' wede away."
"I've heard them lilting at the ewes milking..................The flowers of the forest are a' wede away."
A lady repeated to Sir Walter Scott another fragment of the original ballad.
"I ride single on my saddle,For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away."
"I ride single on my saddle,For the flowers of the forest are a' wede away."
Minstrelsy, iii. 333.
King Jamie hath made a vow,Keep it well if he may!That he will be at lovely LondonUpon Saint James his day."Upon Saint James his day at noon,5At fair London will I be,And all the lords in merry Scotland,They shall dine there with me."Then bespake good Queen Margaret,The tears fell from her eye:10"Leave off these wars, most noble king,Keep your fidelity."The water runs swift and wondrous deepFrom bottom unto the brim;My brother Henry hath men good enough,15England is hard to win.""Away," quoth he, "with this silly fool!In prison fast let her lye:For she is come of the English blood,And for these words she shall die."20With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard,The Queens chamberlain that day;"If that you put Queen Margaret to death,Scotland shall rue it alway."Then in a rage King Jamie did say,25"Away with this foolish mome!He shall be hang'd, and the other burn'd,So soon as I come home."At Flodden-field the Scots came in,Which made our Englishmen fain;30At Bramstone-green this battel was seen,There was King Jamie slain.Then presently the Scots did fly,Their cannons they left behind;Their ensigns gay were won all away,35Our souldiers did beat them blind.To tell you plain, twelve thousand were slainThat to the fight did stand,And many a prisoner took that day,The best in all Scotland.40That day made many a fatherless child,And many a widow poor,And many a Scottish gay ladySateweepingin her bower.Jack with a fether was lapt all in lether,45His boastings were all in vain;He had such a chance with [a] new morrice-dance,He never went home again.
King Jamie hath made a vow,Keep it well if he may!That he will be at lovely LondonUpon Saint James his day.
"Upon Saint James his day at noon,5At fair London will I be,And all the lords in merry Scotland,They shall dine there with me."
Then bespake good Queen Margaret,The tears fell from her eye:10"Leave off these wars, most noble king,Keep your fidelity.
"The water runs swift and wondrous deepFrom bottom unto the brim;My brother Henry hath men good enough,15England is hard to win."
"Away," quoth he, "with this silly fool!In prison fast let her lye:For she is come of the English blood,And for these words she shall die."20
With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard,The Queens chamberlain that day;"If that you put Queen Margaret to death,Scotland shall rue it alway."
Then in a rage King Jamie did say,25"Away with this foolish mome!He shall be hang'd, and the other burn'd,So soon as I come home."
At Flodden-field the Scots came in,Which made our Englishmen fain;30At Bramstone-green this battel was seen,There was King Jamie slain.
Then presently the Scots did fly,Their cannons they left behind;Their ensigns gay were won all away,35Our souldiers did beat them blind.
To tell you plain, twelve thousand were slainThat to the fight did stand,And many a prisoner took that day,The best in all Scotland.40
That day made many a fatherless child,And many a widow poor,And many a Scottish gay ladySateweepingin her bower.
Jack with a fether was lapt all in lether,45His boastings were all in vain;He had such a chance with [a] new morrice-dance,He never went home again.
41-44. This stanza is the sixth in Deloney's copy, and is there clearly misplaced.44. sweeping.
41-44. This stanza is the sixth in Deloney's copy, and is there clearly misplaced.
44. sweeping.
Jane Seymour, queen of Henry VIII., died shortly after giving birth to Prince Edward (Oct. 1537). There was a report that the Cæsarian operation had been necessary to effect the delivery, and on this story the present ballad is founded.
There is a woful ditty on this subject inThe Crown Garland of Golden Roses, Percy Society, vol. vi. p. 29 (orCollection of Old Ballads, ii. 115). The following piece is popular throughout Scotland. It is taken from Kinloch'sAncient Scottish Ballads, p. 116. A fragment had been previously published in Jamieson'sPopular Ballads, i. 182. We have addedanother, but imperfect, version from a recent publication.
Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks and more,Till women and midwives had quite gi'en her o'er;"O if ye were women as women should be,Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me!"The doctor was called for and set by her bedside,5"What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so red?""O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me,To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?""Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's the thing I'll ne'er do,To rip up your two sides to save your babie:"10Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks and more,Till midwives and doctors had quite gi'en her o'er."O if ye were doctors as doctors should be,Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to me:"King Henry was called for, and sat by her bedside,15"What aileth thee, Jeanie, what aileth my bride?""King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for me,To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?""Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's what I'll never do,To rip up your two sides to save your babie."20But with sighing and sobbing she's fallen in a swoon,Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found;At this bonie babie's christ'ning there was meikle joy and mirth,But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth.Six and six coaches, and six and six more,25And royal King Henry went mourning before;O two and two gentlemen carried her away,But royal King Henry went weeping away.O black were their stockings, and black were their bands,And black were the weapons they held in their hands;30O black were their mufflers, and black were their shoes,And black were the cheverons they drew on their luves.They mourned in the kitchen, and they mourn'd in the ha',But royal King Henry mourn'd langest of a'.Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore,35For the fair flower of England will never shine more!
Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks and more,Till women and midwives had quite gi'en her o'er;"O if ye were women as women should be,Ye would send for a doctor, a doctor to me!"
The doctor was called for and set by her bedside,5"What aileth thee, my ladie, thine eyes seem so red?""O doctor, O doctor, will ye do this for me,To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?"
"Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's the thing I'll ne'er do,To rip up your two sides to save your babie:"10Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, travel'd six weeks and more,Till midwives and doctors had quite gi'en her o'er.
"O if ye were doctors as doctors should be,Ye would send for King Henry, King Henry to me:"King Henry was called for, and sat by her bedside,15"What aileth thee, Jeanie, what aileth my bride?"
"King Henry, King Henry, will ye do this for me,To rip up my two sides, and save my babie?""Queen Jeanie, Queen Jeanie, that's what I'll never do,To rip up your two sides to save your babie."20
But with sighing and sobbing she's fallen in a swoon,Her side it was ript up, and her babie was found;At this bonie babie's christ'ning there was meikle joy and mirth,But bonnie Queen Jeanie lies cold in the earth.
Six and six coaches, and six and six more,25And royal King Henry went mourning before;O two and two gentlemen carried her away,But royal King Henry went weeping away.
O black were their stockings, and black were their bands,And black were the weapons they held in their hands;30O black were their mufflers, and black were their shoes,And black were the cheverons they drew on their luves.
They mourned in the kitchen, and they mourn'd in the ha',But royal King Henry mourn'd langest of a'.Farewell to fair England, farewell for evermore,35For the fair flower of England will never shine more!
FromAncient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, edited by Robert Bell, p. 113. Taken down from the singing of a young gipsy girl.
Queen Jane was in travail for six weeks or more,Till the women grew tired and fain would give o'er,"O women, O women, good wives if ye be,Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to me!"King Henrie was sent for, he came with all speed,5In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head;"King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you be,Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me!"The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed,In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head;10He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept she,Then her right side was opened, and the babe was set free.The babe it was christened, and put out and nursed,While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the dust.So black was the mourning, and white were the wands,15Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their hands;The bells they were muffled, and mournful did play,While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the clay.Six knights and six lords bore her corpse through the grounds,Six dukes followed after, in black mourning gownds,20The flower of Old England was laid in cold clay,Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping away.
Queen Jane was in travail for six weeks or more,Till the women grew tired and fain would give o'er,"O women, O women, good wives if ye be,Go send for King Henrie, and bring him to me!"
King Henrie was sent for, he came with all speed,5In a gownd of green velvet from heel to the head;"King Henrie, King Henrie, if kind Henrie you be,Send for a surgeon, and bring him to me!"
The surgeon was sent for, he came with all speed,In a gownd of black velvet from heel to the head;10He gave her rich caudle, but the death-sleep slept she,Then her right side was opened, and the babe was set free.
The babe it was christened, and put out and nursed,While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the dust.
So black was the mourning, and white were the wands,15Yellow, yellow the torches they bore in their hands;The bells they were muffled, and mournful did play,While the royal Queen Jane she lay cold in the clay.
Six knights and six lords bore her corpse through the grounds,Six dukes followed after, in black mourning gownds,20The flower of Old England was laid in cold clay,Whilst the royal King Henrie came weeping away.
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, ii. 210.
"The catastrophe of Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, the unfortunate husband of Mary Queen of Scots, is the subject of this ballad. It is here related in that partial imperfect manner, in which such an event would naturally strike the subjects of another kingdom, of which he was a native. Henry appears to have been a vain, capricious, worthless young man,of weak understanding, and dissolute morals. But the beauty of his person, and the inexperience of his youth, would dispose mankind to treat him with an indulgence, which the cruelty of his murder would afterwards convert into the most tender pity and regret: and then imagination would not fail to adorn his memory with all those virtues he ought to have possessed.
"Darnley, who had been born and educated in England, was but in his 21st year when he was murdered, Feb. 9, 1567-8. This crime was perpetrated by the Earl of Bothwell, not out of respect to the memory of Riccio, but in order to pave the way for his own marriage with the queen.
"This ballad (printed, with a few corrections, from the Editor's folio MS.) seems to have been written soon after Mary's escape into England in 1568, see v. 65.—It will be remembered, at v. 5, that this princess was Queen Dowager of France, having been first married to Francis II., who died Dec. 4, 1560."—Percy.
Woe worth, woe worth thee, false Scotlànde!For thou hast ever wrought by sleight;The worthyest prince that ever was borne,You hanged under a cloud by night.The Queene of France a letter wrote,5And sealed itt with harte and ringe;And bade him come Scotland within,And shee wold marry and crowne him kinge.To be a king is a pleasant thing,To bee a prince unto a peere:10But you have heard, and soe have I too,A man may well buy gold too deare.There was an Italyan in that place,Was as well beloved as ever was hee,Lord David [Rizzio] was his name,15Chamberlaine to the queene was hee.If the king had risen forth of his place,He wold have sate him downe in the cheare,And tho itt beseemed him not so well,Altho the kinge had beene present there.20Some lords in Scotlande waxed wrothe,And quarrelled with him for the nonce;I shall you tell how it befell,Twelve daggers were in him att once.When the queene saw her chamberlaine was slaine,25For him her faire cheeks shee did weete,And made a vowe, for a yeare and a dayThe king and shee wold not come in one sheete.Then some of the lords they waxed wrothe,And made their vow all vehementlye,30For the death of the queenes chamberlaine,The king himselfe, how he shall dye.With gun-powder they strewed his roome,And layd greene rushes in his way;For the traitors thought that very night35This worthye king for to betray.To bedd the king he made him bowne;To take his rest was his desire;He was noe sooner cast on sleepe,But his chamber was on a blasing fire.40Up he lope, and the window brake,And hee had thirtye foote to fall;Lord Bodwell kept a privy watch,Underneath his castle wall."Who have wee here?" Lord Bodwell sayd;45"Now answer me, that I may know.""King Henry the eighth my uncle was;For his sweete sake some pitty show.""Who have we here?" Lord Bodwell sayd;"Now answer me when I doe speake."50"Ah, Lord Bodwell, I know thee well;Some pitty on me I pray thee take.""Ile pitty thee as much," he sayd,"And as much favor show to thee,As thou didst to the queenes chamberlaine,55That day thou deemedst him to die."Through halls and towers the king they ledd,Through towers and castles that were nye,Through an arbor into an orchàrd,There on a peare-tree hanged him hye.60When the governor of Scotland heardHow that the worthye king was slaine,He persued the queen so bitterlye,That in Scotland shee dare not remaine.But shee is fledd into merry England,65And here her residence hath taine,And through the Queene of Englands grace,In England now shee doth remaine.
Woe worth, woe worth thee, false Scotlànde!For thou hast ever wrought by sleight;The worthyest prince that ever was borne,You hanged under a cloud by night.
The Queene of France a letter wrote,5And sealed itt with harte and ringe;And bade him come Scotland within,And shee wold marry and crowne him kinge.
To be a king is a pleasant thing,To bee a prince unto a peere:10But you have heard, and soe have I too,A man may well buy gold too deare.
There was an Italyan in that place,Was as well beloved as ever was hee,Lord David [Rizzio] was his name,15Chamberlaine to the queene was hee.
If the king had risen forth of his place,He wold have sate him downe in the cheare,And tho itt beseemed him not so well,Altho the kinge had beene present there.20
Some lords in Scotlande waxed wrothe,And quarrelled with him for the nonce;I shall you tell how it befell,Twelve daggers were in him att once.
When the queene saw her chamberlaine was slaine,25For him her faire cheeks shee did weete,And made a vowe, for a yeare and a dayThe king and shee wold not come in one sheete.
Then some of the lords they waxed wrothe,And made their vow all vehementlye,30For the death of the queenes chamberlaine,The king himselfe, how he shall dye.
With gun-powder they strewed his roome,And layd greene rushes in his way;For the traitors thought that very night35This worthye king for to betray.
To bedd the king he made him bowne;To take his rest was his desire;He was noe sooner cast on sleepe,But his chamber was on a blasing fire.40
Up he lope, and the window brake,And hee had thirtye foote to fall;Lord Bodwell kept a privy watch,Underneath his castle wall.
"Who have wee here?" Lord Bodwell sayd;45"Now answer me, that I may know.""King Henry the eighth my uncle was;For his sweete sake some pitty show."
"Who have we here?" Lord Bodwell sayd;"Now answer me when I doe speake."50"Ah, Lord Bodwell, I know thee well;Some pitty on me I pray thee take."
"Ile pitty thee as much," he sayd,"And as much favor show to thee,As thou didst to the queenes chamberlaine,55That day thou deemedst him to die."
Through halls and towers the king they ledd,Through towers and castles that were nye,Through an arbor into an orchàrd,There on a peare-tree hanged him hye.60
When the governor of Scotland heardHow that the worthye king was slaine,He persued the queen so bitterlye,That in Scotland shee dare not remaine.
But shee is fledd into merry England,65And here her residence hath taine,And through the Queene of Englands grace,In England now shee doth remaine.
Percy'sReliques, i. 285.
The subject of this ballad is the insurrection of the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, in the twelfth year of Queen Elizabeth, 1569.
These two noblemen were the leaders of the Catholic party in the North of England, and interested themselves warmly in various projects to restore MaryStuart to her liberty. When a marriage was proposed between the Duke of Norfolk and the Scottish Queen, they, with many of the first persons in the kingdom, entered zealously into the scheme, having the ulterior view, according to Hume, of placing Mary on the throne of England. Norfolk endeavored to conceal his plans from Elizabeth, until he should form a combination powerful enough to extort her consent, but the Queen received information betimes, and committed the Duke to the Tower. Several of his abettors were also taken into custody, and the two Northern Earls were summoned to appear at court, to answer to the charge of an intended rebellion. They had proceeded too far to trust themselves willingly in the hands of their enraged sovereign, and the summons precipitated them into an insurrection for which they were not prepared. They hastily gathered their followers, and published a manifesto, in which they declared that they maintained an unshaken allegiance to the Queen, and sought only to reëstablish the religion of their ancestors, and to restore the Duke of Norfolk to liberty and to the Queen's favor.
"Their common banner (on which was displayed the cross, together with the five wounds of Christ,) was borne by an ancient gentleman, Richard Norton, Esq., of Norton-Conyers: who with his sons (among whom, Christopher, Marmaduke, and Thomas, are expressly named by Camden) distinguished himself on this occasion. Having entered Durham, they tore the Bible, &c., and caused mass to be said there: they then marched on to Clifford Moor near Wetherbye, where they mustered their men. Their intention was to have proceeded on to York; but, altering theirminds, they fell upon Barnard's castle, which Sir George Bowes held out against them for eleven days."—Percy.
The insurgents' army amounted to about six thousand men. The Earl of Sussex, supported by Lord Hunsdon and others, marched against them with seven thousand, and the Earl of Warwick with still greater forces. Before these superior numbers the rebels dispersed without striking a blow. Northumberland fled to the Scots, by whom, as we shall see in the next ballad, he was betrayed to Elizabeth. The Earl of Westmoreland escaped to Flanders, and died there in penury.
Another outbreak following close upon the above was suppressed by Lord Hunsdon. Great cruelties were exercised by the victorious party, no less than eight hundred having, it is said, suffered by the hands of the executioner.
The ballad was printed by Percy from two MS. copies, one of them in the editor's folio collection. "They contained considerable variations, out of which such readings were chosen as seemed most poetical and consonant to history."
"The Fate of the Nortons," we need hardly say, forms the subject of Wordsworth'sWhite Doe of Rylstone.
Listen, lively lordlings all,Lithe and listen unto mee,And I will sing of a noble earle,The noblest earle in the north countrìe.Earle Percy is into his garden gone,5And after him walkes his faire ladìe:"I heard a bird sing in mine eare,That I must either fight or flee.""Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord,That ever such harm should hap to thee;10But goe to London to the court,And faire fall truth and honestìe.""Now nay, now nay, my ladye gay,Alas! thy counsell suits not mee;Mine enemies prevail so fast,15That at the court I may not bee.""O goe to the court yet, good my lord,And take thy gallant men with thee;If any dare to doe you wrong,Then your warrant they may bee."20"Now nay, now nay, thou lady faire,The court is full of subtiltie;And if I goe to the court, lady,Never more I may thee see.""Yet goe to the court, my lord," she sayes,25"And I myselfe will ride wi' thee:At court then for my dearest lord,His faithfull borrowe I will bee."Now nay, now nay, my lady deare;Far lever had I lose my life,30Than leave among my cruell foesMy love in jeopardy and strife."But come thou hither, my little foot-page,Come thou hither unto mee;To maister Norton thou must goe35In all the haste that ever may bee."Commend me to that gentleman,And beare this letter here fro mee;And say that earnestly I praye,He will ryde in my companie."40One while the little foot-page went,And another while he ran;Untill he came to his journeys endThe little foot-page never blan.When to that gentleman he came,45Down he kneeled on his knee,And tooke the letter betwixt his hands,And lett the gentleman it see.And when the letter it was reddAffore that goodlye companye,50I-wis, if you the truthe wold know,There was many a weepynge eye.He sayd, "Come hither, Christopher Norton,A gallant youth thou seemst to bee;What doest thou counsell me, my sonne,Now that good erle's in jeopardy?"55"Father, my counselle's fair and free;That erle he is a noble lord,And whatsoever to him you hight,I wold not have you breake your word."60"Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne,Thy counsell well it liketh mee,And if we speed and scape with life,Well advanced shalt thou bee.""Come you hither, minenine good sonnes,65Gallant men I trowe you bee:How many of you, my children deare,Will stand by that good erle and mee?"Eight of them did answer make,Eight of them spake hastilie,70"O father, till the daye we dyeWe'll stand by that good erle and thee.""Gramercy now, my children deare,You showe yourselves right bold and brave;And whethersoe'er I live or dye,75A fathers blessing you shal have.""But what sayst thou, O Francis Norton?Thou art mine oldest sonn and heire;Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast;Whatever it bee, to mee declare."80"Father, you are an aged man;Your head is white, your bearde is gray;It were a shame at these your yearesFor you to ryse in such a fray.""Now fye upon thee, coward Francis,85Thou never learnedst this of mee;When thou wert yong and tender of age,Why did I make soe much of thee?""But, father, I will wend with you,Unarm'd and naked will I bee;90And he that strikes against the crowne,Ever an ill death may he dee."Then rose that reverend gentleman,And with him came a goodlye band,To join with the brave Erle Percy,95And all the flower o' Northumberland.With them the noble Nevill came,The erle of Westmorland was hee:At Wetherbye they mustred their host,Thirteen thousand faire to see.100Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde,TheDun Bullhe rays'd on hye,And three Dogs with golden collarsWere there sett out most royallye.Erie Percy there his ancyent spred,105The Halfe-Moone shining all soe faire:The Nortons ancyent had the crosse,And the five wounds our Lord did beare.Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose,After them some spoyle to make;110Those noble erles turn'd backe againe,And aye they vowed that knight to take.That baron he to his castle fledTo Barnard castle then fled hee;The uttermost walles were eathe to win,115The earles have won them presentlìe.The uttermost walles were lime and bricke,But thoughe they won them soon anone,Long e'er they wan the innermost walles,For they were cut in rocke of stone.120Then newes unto leeve London came,In all the speede that ever might bee,And word is brought to our royall queeneOf the rysing in the North countrie.Her grace she turned her round about,125And like a royall queene shee swore,"I will ordayne them such a breakfast,As never was in the North before."Shee caus'd thirty thousand men be rays'd,With horse and harneis faire to see;130She caused thirty thousand men be raised,To take the earles i' th' North countrie.Wi' them the false Erle Warwick went,Th' Erle Sussex and the Lord Hunsden;Untill they to Yorke castle came,I-wiss they never stint ne blan.135Now spred thy ancyent, Westmorland,Thy dun bull faine would we spye:And thou, the Erle o' Northumberland,Now rayse thy half moone up on hye.140But the dun bulle is fled and gone,And the halfe moone vanished away:The erles, though they were brave and bold,Against soe many could not stay.Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sonnes,145They doom'd to dye, alas for ruth!Thy reverend lockes thee could not save,Nor them their faire and blooming youthe.Wi' them full many a gallant wightThey cruellye bereav'd of life:150And many a childe made fatherlesse,And widowed many a tender wife.
Listen, lively lordlings all,Lithe and listen unto mee,And I will sing of a noble earle,The noblest earle in the north countrìe.
Earle Percy is into his garden gone,5And after him walkes his faire ladìe:"I heard a bird sing in mine eare,That I must either fight or flee."
"Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord,That ever such harm should hap to thee;10But goe to London to the court,And faire fall truth and honestìe."
"Now nay, now nay, my ladye gay,Alas! thy counsell suits not mee;Mine enemies prevail so fast,15That at the court I may not bee."
"O goe to the court yet, good my lord,And take thy gallant men with thee;If any dare to doe you wrong,Then your warrant they may bee."20
"Now nay, now nay, thou lady faire,The court is full of subtiltie;And if I goe to the court, lady,Never more I may thee see."
"Yet goe to the court, my lord," she sayes,25"And I myselfe will ride wi' thee:At court then for my dearest lord,His faithfull borrowe I will bee."
Now nay, now nay, my lady deare;Far lever had I lose my life,30Than leave among my cruell foesMy love in jeopardy and strife.
"But come thou hither, my little foot-page,Come thou hither unto mee;To maister Norton thou must goe35In all the haste that ever may bee.
"Commend me to that gentleman,And beare this letter here fro mee;And say that earnestly I praye,He will ryde in my companie."40
One while the little foot-page went,And another while he ran;Untill he came to his journeys endThe little foot-page never blan.
When to that gentleman he came,45Down he kneeled on his knee,And tooke the letter betwixt his hands,And lett the gentleman it see.
And when the letter it was reddAffore that goodlye companye,50I-wis, if you the truthe wold know,There was many a weepynge eye.
He sayd, "Come hither, Christopher Norton,A gallant youth thou seemst to bee;What doest thou counsell me, my sonne,Now that good erle's in jeopardy?"55
"Father, my counselle's fair and free;That erle he is a noble lord,And whatsoever to him you hight,I wold not have you breake your word."60
"Gramercy, Christopher, my sonne,Thy counsell well it liketh mee,And if we speed and scape with life,Well advanced shalt thou bee."
"Come you hither, minenine good sonnes,65Gallant men I trowe you bee:How many of you, my children deare,Will stand by that good erle and mee?"
Eight of them did answer make,Eight of them spake hastilie,70"O father, till the daye we dyeWe'll stand by that good erle and thee."
"Gramercy now, my children deare,You showe yourselves right bold and brave;And whethersoe'er I live or dye,75A fathers blessing you shal have."
"But what sayst thou, O Francis Norton?Thou art mine oldest sonn and heire;Somewhat lyes brooding in thy breast;Whatever it bee, to mee declare."80
"Father, you are an aged man;Your head is white, your bearde is gray;It were a shame at these your yearesFor you to ryse in such a fray."
"Now fye upon thee, coward Francis,85Thou never learnedst this of mee;When thou wert yong and tender of age,Why did I make soe much of thee?"
"But, father, I will wend with you,Unarm'd and naked will I bee;90And he that strikes against the crowne,Ever an ill death may he dee."
Then rose that reverend gentleman,And with him came a goodlye band,To join with the brave Erle Percy,95And all the flower o' Northumberland.
With them the noble Nevill came,The erle of Westmorland was hee:At Wetherbye they mustred their host,Thirteen thousand faire to see.100
Lord Westmorland his ancyent raisde,TheDun Bullhe rays'd on hye,And three Dogs with golden collarsWere there sett out most royallye.
Erie Percy there his ancyent spred,105The Halfe-Moone shining all soe faire:The Nortons ancyent had the crosse,And the five wounds our Lord did beare.
Then Sir George Bowes he straitwaye rose,After them some spoyle to make;110Those noble erles turn'd backe againe,And aye they vowed that knight to take.
That baron he to his castle fledTo Barnard castle then fled hee;The uttermost walles were eathe to win,115The earles have won them presentlìe.
The uttermost walles were lime and bricke,But thoughe they won them soon anone,Long e'er they wan the innermost walles,For they were cut in rocke of stone.120
Then newes unto leeve London came,In all the speede that ever might bee,And word is brought to our royall queeneOf the rysing in the North countrie.
Her grace she turned her round about,125And like a royall queene shee swore,"I will ordayne them such a breakfast,As never was in the North before."
Shee caus'd thirty thousand men be rays'd,With horse and harneis faire to see;130She caused thirty thousand men be raised,To take the earles i' th' North countrie.
Wi' them the false Erle Warwick went,Th' Erle Sussex and the Lord Hunsden;Untill they to Yorke castle came,I-wiss they never stint ne blan.135
Now spred thy ancyent, Westmorland,Thy dun bull faine would we spye:And thou, the Erle o' Northumberland,Now rayse thy half moone up on hye.140
But the dun bulle is fled and gone,And the halfe moone vanished away:The erles, though they were brave and bold,Against soe many could not stay.
Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sonnes,145They doom'd to dye, alas for ruth!Thy reverend lockes thee could not save,Nor them their faire and blooming youthe.
Wi' them full many a gallant wightThey cruellye bereav'd of life:150And many a childe made fatherlesse,And widowed many a tender wife.
65. The Act of Attainder, 13th Elizabeth, only mentions Richard Norton, the father, andsevensons, and in "a list of the rebels in the late Northern rebellion that are fled beyond seas," the same seven sons are named. Richard Norton, the father, was living long after the rebellion in Spanish Flanders. See Sharp'sBishoprick Garland, p. 10.102. The supporters of the Nevilles Earls of Westmoreland were two bulls argent, ducally collar'd gold, armed or, &c. But I have not discovered the device mentioned in the ballad, among the badges, &c., given by that house. This however is certain, that, among those of the Nevilles, Lord Abergavenny (who were of the same family), is a dun cow with a golden collar; and the Nevilles of Chyte in Yorkshire (of the Westmoreland branch), gave for their crest, in 1513, a dog's (greyhound's) head erased.—So that it is not improbable but Charles Neville, the unhappy Earl of Westmoreland here mentioned, might on this occasion give the above device on his banner.—After all, our old minstrel's verses here may have undergone some corruption; for, in another ballad in the same folio MS., and apparently written by the same hand, containing the sequel of this Lord Westmoreland's history, his banner is thus described, more conformable to his known bearings:"Sett me up my faire Dun Bull,With Gilden Hornes, hee beares all soe hye."—P.106. The Silver Crescent is a well-known crest or badge of the Northumberland family. It was probably brought home from some of the crusades against the Sarazens.—P.
65. The Act of Attainder, 13th Elizabeth, only mentions Richard Norton, the father, andsevensons, and in "a list of the rebels in the late Northern rebellion that are fled beyond seas," the same seven sons are named. Richard Norton, the father, was living long after the rebellion in Spanish Flanders. See Sharp'sBishoprick Garland, p. 10.
102. The supporters of the Nevilles Earls of Westmoreland were two bulls argent, ducally collar'd gold, armed or, &c. But I have not discovered the device mentioned in the ballad, among the badges, &c., given by that house. This however is certain, that, among those of the Nevilles, Lord Abergavenny (who were of the same family), is a dun cow with a golden collar; and the Nevilles of Chyte in Yorkshire (of the Westmoreland branch), gave for their crest, in 1513, a dog's (greyhound's) head erased.—So that it is not improbable but Charles Neville, the unhappy Earl of Westmoreland here mentioned, might on this occasion give the above device on his banner.—After all, our old minstrel's verses here may have undergone some corruption; for, in another ballad in the same folio MS., and apparently written by the same hand, containing the sequel of this Lord Westmoreland's history, his banner is thus described, more conformable to his known bearings:
"Sett me up my faire Dun Bull,With Gilden Hornes, hee beares all soe hye."—P.
106. The Silver Crescent is a well-known crest or badge of the Northumberland family. It was probably brought home from some of the crusades against the Sarazens.—P.
Percy'sReliques, i. 295.
The Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, after the dispersion of their forces took refuge with the Scots on the Borders. The Elliots drove them from Liddesdale, and they sought the protection of the Armstrongs in the Debatable Land. Northumberland took up his residence with a man of that tribe called Hector of Harlaw, relying on his plighted faith and on his gratitude for many past favors. By this miscreant the Earl was betrayed for money to the Regent Murray. He was confined in Lochleven Castle until 1572, when he was handed over to Lord Hunsden, and executed at York.
We are assured that this Hector, who had been rich, fell into poverty after his treachery, and became so infamous that "to take Hector's cloak" was a proverb for a man who betrayed his friend.
In Pinkerton'sPoems from the Maitland MS. (pp. 219-234) are three bitter invectives on this subject. In one of these we are told that the traitor Eckie of Harlaw said he sold the Earl "to redeem his pledge," that is, says Scott, the pledge which had been exacted from him for his peaceable demeanor.
"The interposal of the Witch-Lady (v. 53)" hath some countenance from history; for, about twenty-fiveyears before, the Lady Jane Douglas, Lady Glamis, sister of the Earl of Angus, and nearly related to Douglas of Lough-leven, had suffered death for the pretended crime of witchcraft; who, it is presumed, is the witch-lady alluded to inverse 133.
"The following is selected (like the former) from two copies, which contained great variations; one of them in the Editor's folio MS. In the other copy some of the stanzas at the beginning of this ballad are nearly the same with what in that MS. are made to begin another ballad on the escape of the Earl of Westmoreland, who got safe into Flanders, and is feigned in the ballad to have undergone a great variety of adventures."—Percy.
"How long shall fortune faile me nowe,And harrowe me with fear and dread?How long shall I in bale abide,In misery my life to lead?"To fall from my bliss, alas the while!5It was my sore and heavye lott;And I must leave my native land,And I must live a man forgot."One gentle Armstrong I doe ken,A Scot he is, much bound to mee;10He dwelleth on the Border side,To him I'll goe right privilie."Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine,With a heavy heart and wel-away,When he with all his gallant men15On Bramham moor had lost the day.But when he to the Armstrongs came,They dealt with him all treacherouslye;For they did strip that noble earle,And ever an ill death may they dye!20False Hector to Earl Murray sent,To shew him where his guest did hide,Who sent him to the Lough-levèn,With William Douglas to abide.And when he to the Douglas came,25He halched him right courteouslie;Say'd, "Welcome, welcome, noble earle,Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee."When he had in Lough-leven beenMany a month and many a day,30To the regent the lord warden sent,That bannisht earle for to betray.He offered him great store of gold,And wrote a letter fair to see,Saying, "Good my lord, grant me my boon,35And yield that banisht man to mee."Earle Percy at the supper sate,With many a goodly gentleman;The wylie Douglas then bespake,And thus to flyte with him began.40"What makes you be so sad, my lord,And in your mind so sorrowfullye?To-morrow a shootinge will bee heldAmong the lords of the North countrye."The butts are sett, the shooting's made,45And there will be great royaltye;And I am sworne into my bille,Thither to bring my Lord Percye.""I'll give thee my hand, thou gentle Douglas,And here by my true faith," quoth hee,50"If thou wilt ryde to the worldes endI will ryde in thy companye."And then bespake a lady faire,Mary à Douglas was her name;"You shall byde here, good English lord,55My brother is a traiterous man."He is a traitor stout and stronge,As I tell you in privitie;For he hath tane liverance of the erle,Into England nowe to 'liver thee."60"Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady,The regent is a noble lord:Ne for the gold in all EnglàndThe Douglas wold not break his word."When the regent was a banisht man,65With me he did faire welcome find;And whether weal or woe betide,I still shall find him true and kind."Between England and Scotland it wold breake truce,And friends againe they wold never bee,70If they shold 'liver a banisht erle,Was driven out of his own countrie.""Alas! alas! my lord," she sayes,"Nowe mickle is their traitorie;Then lett my brother ryde his wayes,75And tell those English lords from thee,"How that you cannot with him ryde,Because you are inan ile of the sea,Then ere my brother come againe,To Edenborow castle Ile carry thee.80"To the Lord Hume I will thee bring;He is well knowne a true Scots lord,And he will lose both land and life,Ere he with thee will break his word.""Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd,85"When I thinke on my own countrìe,When I thinke on the heavye happeMy friends have suffered there for mee."Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd,"And sore those wars my minde distresse;90Where many a widow lost her mate,And many a child was fatherlesse."And now that I a banisht manShold bring such evil happe with mee,To cause my faire and noble friends95To be suspect of treacherie,"This rives my heart with double woe;And lever had I dye this day,Than thinke a Douglas can be false,Or ever he will his guest betray."100"If you'll give me no trust, my lord,Nor unto mee no credence yield,Yet step one moment here aside,Ile showe you all your foes in field.""Lady, I never loved witchcraft,105Never dealt in privy wyle;But evermore held the high-wayeOf truth and honour, free from guile.""If you'll not come yourselfe, my lorde,Yet send your chamberlaine with mee,110Let me but speak three words with him,And he shall come again to thee."James Swynard with that lady went,She showed him through the weme of her ringHow many English lords there were115Waiting for his master and him."And who walkes yonder, my good lady,So royallye on yonder greene?""O yonder is theLord Hunsden:Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene."120"And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye,That walkes so proudly him beside?""That isSir William Drury," shee sayd,"A keene captaine hee is and tryde.""How many miles is itt, madàme,125Betwixt yond English lords and mee?""Marry, it is thrice fifty miles,To saile to them upon the sea."I never was on English ground,Ne never sawe it with mine eye,130But as my book it sheweth mee,And through my ring I may descrye."My mother shee was a witch ladye,And of her skille she learned mee;She wold let me see out of Lough-leven135What they did in London citìe.""But who is yond, thou lady faire,That looketh with sic an austerne face?""Yonder isSir John Foster," quoth shee,"Alas! he'll do ye sore disgrace."140He pulled his hatt downe over his browe;He wept, in his heart he was full of woe;And he is gone to his noble lord,Those sorrowful tidings him to show."Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,145I may not believe that witch ladìe;The Douglasses were ever true,And they can ne'er prove false to mee."I have now in Lough-leven beenThe most part of these years three,150Yett have I never had noe outrake,Ne no good games that I cold see."Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend,As to the Douglas I have hight:Betide me weale, betide me woe,155He ne'er shall find my promise light."He writhe a gold ring from his finger,And gave itt to that gay ladìe:Sayes, "It was all that I cold save,In Harley woods where I cold bee."160"And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord?Then farewell truth and honestìe,And farewell heart, and farewell hand,For never more I shall thee see."The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd,165And all the saylors were on borde;Then William Douglas took to his boat,And with him went that noble lord.Then he cast up a silver wand,Says, "Gentle lady, fare thee well!"170The lady fett a sigh soe deep,And in a dead swoone down shee fell."Now let us goe back, Douglas," he sayd,"A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe;If ought befall yond lady but good,175Then blamed for ever I shall bee.""Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes,"Come on, come on, and let her bee;There's ladyes enow in Lough-levenFor to cheere that gay ladìe."180"If you'll not turne yourself, my lord,Let me goe with my chamberlaine;We will but comfort that faire lady,And wee will return to you againe.""Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes,185"Come on, come on, and let her bee;My sister is craftye, and wold beguileA thousand such as you and mee.""When they had sayled fifty myle,Now fifty mile upon the sea,190Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas,When they shold that shooting see.""Faire words," quoth he, "they make fooles faine,And that by thee and thy lord is seen;You may hap to thinke itt soone enough,195Ere you that shooting reach, I ween."Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe,He thought his lord then was betray'd;And he is to Erle Percy againe,To tell him what the Douglas sayd.200"Hold upp thy head, man," quoth his lord,"Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle;He did it but to prove thy heart,To see if he cold make it quail."When they had other fifty sayld,205Other fifty mile upon the sea,Lord Percy called to Douglas himselfe,Sayd, "What wilt thou nowe doe with mee?""Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord,And your horse goe swift as shipp att sea;210Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe,That you may pricke her while shee'll away.""What needeth this, Douglas?" he sayth;"What needest thou to flyte with mee?For I was counted a horseman good215Before that ever I mett with thee."A false Hector hath my horse,Who dealt with mee so treacherouslìe;A false Armstrong hath my spurres,And all the geere belongs to mee."220When they had sayled other fifty mile,Other fifty mile upon the sea,They landed low by Berwicke side,A deputed lairdlandedLord Percye.Then he at Yorke was doomde to die,225It was, alas! a sorrowful sight;Thus they betrayed that noble earle,Who ever was a gallant wight.
"How long shall fortune faile me nowe,And harrowe me with fear and dread?How long shall I in bale abide,In misery my life to lead?
"To fall from my bliss, alas the while!5It was my sore and heavye lott;And I must leave my native land,And I must live a man forgot.
"One gentle Armstrong I doe ken,A Scot he is, much bound to mee;10He dwelleth on the Border side,To him I'll goe right privilie."
Thus did the noble Percy 'plaine,With a heavy heart and wel-away,When he with all his gallant men15On Bramham moor had lost the day.
But when he to the Armstrongs came,They dealt with him all treacherouslye;For they did strip that noble earle,And ever an ill death may they dye!20
False Hector to Earl Murray sent,To shew him where his guest did hide,Who sent him to the Lough-levèn,With William Douglas to abide.
And when he to the Douglas came,25He halched him right courteouslie;Say'd, "Welcome, welcome, noble earle,Here thou shalt safelye bide with mee."
When he had in Lough-leven beenMany a month and many a day,30To the regent the lord warden sent,That bannisht earle for to betray.
He offered him great store of gold,And wrote a letter fair to see,Saying, "Good my lord, grant me my boon,35And yield that banisht man to mee."
Earle Percy at the supper sate,With many a goodly gentleman;The wylie Douglas then bespake,And thus to flyte with him began.40
"What makes you be so sad, my lord,And in your mind so sorrowfullye?To-morrow a shootinge will bee heldAmong the lords of the North countrye.
"The butts are sett, the shooting's made,45And there will be great royaltye;And I am sworne into my bille,Thither to bring my Lord Percye."
"I'll give thee my hand, thou gentle Douglas,And here by my true faith," quoth hee,50"If thou wilt ryde to the worldes endI will ryde in thy companye."
And then bespake a lady faire,Mary à Douglas was her name;"You shall byde here, good English lord,55My brother is a traiterous man.
"He is a traitor stout and stronge,As I tell you in privitie;For he hath tane liverance of the erle,Into England nowe to 'liver thee."60
"Now nay, now nay, thou goodly lady,The regent is a noble lord:Ne for the gold in all EnglàndThe Douglas wold not break his word.
"When the regent was a banisht man,65With me he did faire welcome find;And whether weal or woe betide,I still shall find him true and kind.
"Between England and Scotland it wold breake truce,And friends againe they wold never bee,70If they shold 'liver a banisht erle,Was driven out of his own countrie."
"Alas! alas! my lord," she sayes,"Nowe mickle is their traitorie;Then lett my brother ryde his wayes,75And tell those English lords from thee,
"How that you cannot with him ryde,Because you are inan ile of the sea,Then ere my brother come againe,To Edenborow castle Ile carry thee.80
"To the Lord Hume I will thee bring;He is well knowne a true Scots lord,And he will lose both land and life,Ere he with thee will break his word."
"Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd,85"When I thinke on my own countrìe,When I thinke on the heavye happeMy friends have suffered there for mee.
"Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd,"And sore those wars my minde distresse;90Where many a widow lost her mate,And many a child was fatherlesse.
"And now that I a banisht manShold bring such evil happe with mee,To cause my faire and noble friends95To be suspect of treacherie,
"This rives my heart with double woe;And lever had I dye this day,Than thinke a Douglas can be false,Or ever he will his guest betray."100
"If you'll give me no trust, my lord,Nor unto mee no credence yield,Yet step one moment here aside,Ile showe you all your foes in field."
"Lady, I never loved witchcraft,105Never dealt in privy wyle;But evermore held the high-wayeOf truth and honour, free from guile."
"If you'll not come yourselfe, my lorde,Yet send your chamberlaine with mee,110Let me but speak three words with him,And he shall come again to thee."
James Swynard with that lady went,She showed him through the weme of her ringHow many English lords there were115Waiting for his master and him.
"And who walkes yonder, my good lady,So royallye on yonder greene?""O yonder is theLord Hunsden:Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene."120
"And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye,That walkes so proudly him beside?""That isSir William Drury," shee sayd,"A keene captaine hee is and tryde."
"How many miles is itt, madàme,125Betwixt yond English lords and mee?""Marry, it is thrice fifty miles,To saile to them upon the sea.
"I never was on English ground,Ne never sawe it with mine eye,130But as my book it sheweth mee,And through my ring I may descrye.
"My mother shee was a witch ladye,And of her skille she learned mee;She wold let me see out of Lough-leven135What they did in London citìe."
"But who is yond, thou lady faire,That looketh with sic an austerne face?""Yonder isSir John Foster," quoth shee,"Alas! he'll do ye sore disgrace."140
He pulled his hatt downe over his browe;He wept, in his heart he was full of woe;And he is gone to his noble lord,Those sorrowful tidings him to show.
"Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd,145I may not believe that witch ladìe;The Douglasses were ever true,And they can ne'er prove false to mee.
"I have now in Lough-leven beenThe most part of these years three,150Yett have I never had noe outrake,Ne no good games that I cold see.
"Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend,As to the Douglas I have hight:Betide me weale, betide me woe,155He ne'er shall find my promise light."
He writhe a gold ring from his finger,And gave itt to that gay ladìe:Sayes, "It was all that I cold save,In Harley woods where I cold bee."160
"And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord?Then farewell truth and honestìe,And farewell heart, and farewell hand,For never more I shall thee see."
The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd,165And all the saylors were on borde;Then William Douglas took to his boat,And with him went that noble lord.
Then he cast up a silver wand,Says, "Gentle lady, fare thee well!"170The lady fett a sigh soe deep,And in a dead swoone down shee fell.
"Now let us goe back, Douglas," he sayd,"A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe;If ought befall yond lady but good,175Then blamed for ever I shall bee."
"Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes,"Come on, come on, and let her bee;There's ladyes enow in Lough-levenFor to cheere that gay ladìe."180
"If you'll not turne yourself, my lord,Let me goe with my chamberlaine;We will but comfort that faire lady,And wee will return to you againe."
"Come on, come on, my lord," he sayes,185"Come on, come on, and let her bee;My sister is craftye, and wold beguileA thousand such as you and mee."
"When they had sayled fifty myle,Now fifty mile upon the sea,190Hee sent his man to ask the Douglas,When they shold that shooting see."
"Faire words," quoth he, "they make fooles faine,And that by thee and thy lord is seen;You may hap to thinke itt soone enough,195Ere you that shooting reach, I ween."
Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe,He thought his lord then was betray'd;And he is to Erle Percy againe,To tell him what the Douglas sayd.200
"Hold upp thy head, man," quoth his lord,"Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle;He did it but to prove thy heart,To see if he cold make it quail."
When they had other fifty sayld,205Other fifty mile upon the sea,Lord Percy called to Douglas himselfe,Sayd, "What wilt thou nowe doe with mee?"
"Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord,And your horse goe swift as shipp att sea;210Looke that your spurres be bright and sharpe,That you may pricke her while shee'll away."
"What needeth this, Douglas?" he sayth;"What needest thou to flyte with mee?For I was counted a horseman good215Before that ever I mett with thee.
"A false Hector hath my horse,Who dealt with mee so treacherouslìe;A false Armstrong hath my spurres,And all the geere belongs to mee."220
When they had sayled other fifty mile,Other fifty mile upon the sea,They landed low by Berwicke side,A deputed lairdlandedLord Percye.
Then he at Yorke was doomde to die,225It was, alas! a sorrowful sight;Thus they betrayed that noble earle,Who ever was a gallant wight.