59. Of the Earl of Morton, the Regent.—P.78. i. e. Lake of Leven, which hath communication with the sea. Edinburgh was at that time in the hands of the opposite faction.—P.119. The Lord Warden of the East Marches.—P.123. Governor of Berwick.—P.139. Warden of the Middle-march.—P.224. fol. MS. readsland, and has not the following stanza.
59. Of the Earl of Morton, the Regent.—P.
78. i. e. Lake of Leven, which hath communication with the sea. Edinburgh was at that time in the hands of the opposite faction.—P.
119. The Lord Warden of the East Marches.—P.
123. Governor of Berwick.—P.
139. Warden of the Middle-march.—P.
224. fol. MS. readsland, and has not the following stanza.
FromReliques of English Poetry, ii. 217.
"This ballad is a proof of the little intercourse that subsisted between the Scots and English, before the accession of James I. to the crown of England. The tale which is here so circumstantially related, does not appear to have had the least foundation in history, but was probably built upon some confused hearsay report of the tumults in Scotland during the minority of that prince, and of the conspiracies formed by different factions to get possession of his person. It should seem from ver. 97 to have been written during the regency, or at least before the death, of the Earl of Morton, who was condemned and executed June 2, 1581; when James was in his fifteenth year.
"The original copy (preserved in the archives ofthe Antiquarian Society, London,) is entitled,A new ballad, declaring the great treason conspired against the young king of Scots, and how one Andrew Browne, an English-man, which was the king's chamberlaine, prevented the same. To the tune of Milfield, or els to Green-sleeves. At the end is subjoined the name of the author, W. Elderton. 'Imprinted at London for Yarathe James, dwelling in Newgate Market, over against Ch. Church,' in black-letter folio."—Percy.
This ballad was licensed to James on the 30th of May, 1581.
Out alas! what a griefe is this,That princes subjects cannot be true,But still the devill hath some of his,Will play their parts whatsoever ensue;Forgetting what a grievous thing5It is to offend the anointed king!Alas for woe, why should it be so?This makes a sorrowful heigh ho.In Scotland is a bonnie kinge,As proper a youth as neede to be,10Well given to every happy thing,That can be in a kinge to see:Yet that unluckie country still,Hath people given to craftie will.Alas for woe, &c.15On Whitsun eve it so befell,A posset was made to give the king,Whereof his ladie nurse hard tell,And that it was a poysoned thing:She cryed, and called piteouslie,20"Now help, or else the king shall die!"Alas for woe, &c.One Browne, that was an English man,And hard the ladies piteous crye,Out with his sword, and bestir'd him than,25Out of the doores in haste to flie;But all the doores were made so fast,Out of a window he got at last.Alas for woe, &c.He met the bishop coming fast,30Having the posset in his hande:The sight of Browne made him aghast,Who bad him stoutly staie and stand.With him were two that ranne awa,For feare that Browne would make a fray.35Alas, for woe, &c."Bishop," quoth Browne, "what hast thou there?""Nothing at all, my friend," sayde he,"But a posset to make the king good cheere.""Is it so?" sayd Browne, "that will I see.40First I will have thyself begin,Before thou go any further in;Be it weale or woe, it shall be so.This makes a sorrowful heigh ho."The bishop sayde, "Browne, I doo know,45Thou art a young man poore and bare;Livings on thee I will bestowe;Let me go on, take thou no care.""No, no," quoth Browne, "I will not beA traitour for all Christiantie:50Happe well or woe, it shall be so.Drink now with a sorrowfull," &c.The bishop dranke, and by and byHis belly burst and he fell downe:A just rewarde for his traitery!55"This was a posset indeed," quoth Brown.He serched the bishop, and found the keyes,To come to the kinge when he did please.Alas for woe, &c.As soon as the king got word of this,60He humbly fell uppon his knee,And praysed God that he did misseTo tast of that extremity:For that he did perceive and know,His clergie would betray him so:65Alas for woe, &c."Alas," he said, "unhappie realme,My father, and grandfather slaine:My mother banished, O extreameUnhappy fate, and bitter bayne!70And now like treason wrought for me—What more unhappie realme can be!"Alas for woe, &c.The king did call his nurse to his grace,And gave her twenty poundes a yeere;75And trustie Browne too in like case,He knighted him with gallant geere,And gave him lands and livings great,For dooing such a manly feat,As he did showe, to the bishop's woe,80Which made, &c.When all this treason done and pastTooke not effect of traytery,Another treason at the last,They sought against his majestie;85How they might make their kinge awayBy a privie banket on a daye.Alas for woe, &c.'Another time' to sell the kingBeyonde the seas they had decreede:90Three noble Earles heard of this thing,And did prevent the same with speede.For a letter came, with such a charme,That they should doo their king no harme:For further woe, if they did soe,95Would make a sorrowful heigh hoe.The Earle Mourton told the Douglas then,"Take heede you do not offend the king;But shew yourselves like honest menObediently in every thing;100Forhis godmotherwill not seeHer noble child misus'd to beWith any woe; for if it be so,She will make," &c.God graunt all subjects may be true,105In England, Scotland, every where,That no such daunger may ensue,To put the prince or state in feare:That God, the highest king, may seeObedience as it ought to be.110In wealth or woe, God graunt it be so,To avoide the sorrowful heigh ho.
Out alas! what a griefe is this,That princes subjects cannot be true,But still the devill hath some of his,Will play their parts whatsoever ensue;Forgetting what a grievous thing5It is to offend the anointed king!Alas for woe, why should it be so?This makes a sorrowful heigh ho.
In Scotland is a bonnie kinge,As proper a youth as neede to be,10Well given to every happy thing,That can be in a kinge to see:Yet that unluckie country still,Hath people given to craftie will.Alas for woe, &c.15
On Whitsun eve it so befell,A posset was made to give the king,Whereof his ladie nurse hard tell,And that it was a poysoned thing:She cryed, and called piteouslie,20"Now help, or else the king shall die!"Alas for woe, &c.
One Browne, that was an English man,And hard the ladies piteous crye,Out with his sword, and bestir'd him than,25Out of the doores in haste to flie;But all the doores were made so fast,Out of a window he got at last.Alas for woe, &c.
He met the bishop coming fast,30Having the posset in his hande:The sight of Browne made him aghast,Who bad him stoutly staie and stand.With him were two that ranne awa,For feare that Browne would make a fray.35Alas, for woe, &c.
"Bishop," quoth Browne, "what hast thou there?""Nothing at all, my friend," sayde he,"But a posset to make the king good cheere.""Is it so?" sayd Browne, "that will I see.40First I will have thyself begin,Before thou go any further in;Be it weale or woe, it shall be so.This makes a sorrowful heigh ho."
The bishop sayde, "Browne, I doo know,45Thou art a young man poore and bare;Livings on thee I will bestowe;Let me go on, take thou no care.""No, no," quoth Browne, "I will not beA traitour for all Christiantie:50Happe well or woe, it shall be so.Drink now with a sorrowfull," &c.
The bishop dranke, and by and byHis belly burst and he fell downe:A just rewarde for his traitery!55"This was a posset indeed," quoth Brown.He serched the bishop, and found the keyes,To come to the kinge when he did please.Alas for woe, &c.
As soon as the king got word of this,60He humbly fell uppon his knee,And praysed God that he did misseTo tast of that extremity:For that he did perceive and know,His clergie would betray him so:65Alas for woe, &c.
"Alas," he said, "unhappie realme,My father, and grandfather slaine:My mother banished, O extreameUnhappy fate, and bitter bayne!70And now like treason wrought for me—What more unhappie realme can be!"Alas for woe, &c.
The king did call his nurse to his grace,And gave her twenty poundes a yeere;75And trustie Browne too in like case,He knighted him with gallant geere,And gave him lands and livings great,For dooing such a manly feat,As he did showe, to the bishop's woe,80Which made, &c.
When all this treason done and pastTooke not effect of traytery,Another treason at the last,They sought against his majestie;85How they might make their kinge awayBy a privie banket on a daye.Alas for woe, &c.
'Another time' to sell the kingBeyonde the seas they had decreede:90Three noble Earles heard of this thing,And did prevent the same with speede.For a letter came, with such a charme,That they should doo their king no harme:For further woe, if they did soe,95Would make a sorrowful heigh hoe.
The Earle Mourton told the Douglas then,"Take heede you do not offend the king;But shew yourselves like honest menObediently in every thing;100Forhis godmotherwill not seeHer noble child misus'd to beWith any woe; for if it be so,She will make," &c.
God graunt all subjects may be true,105In England, Scotland, every where,That no such daunger may ensue,To put the prince or state in feare:That God, the highest king, may seeObedience as it ought to be.110In wealth or woe, God graunt it be so,To avoide the sorrowful heigh ho.
68. His father was Henry Lord Darnley. His grandfather, the old Earl of Lenox, regent of Scotland, and father of Lord Darnley, was murdered at Stirling, Sept. 5, 1571.—P.101. Queen Elizabeth.
68. His father was Henry Lord Darnley. His grandfather, the old Earl of Lenox, regent of Scotland, and father of Lord Darnley, was murdered at Stirling, Sept. 5, 1571.—P.
101. Queen Elizabeth.
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, ii. 230.
"In the year 1584, the Spaniards, under the command of Alexander Farnese, Prince of Parma, began to gain great advantages in Flanders and Brabant, by recovering many strongholds and cities from theHollanders, as Ghent (called then by the English Gaunt), Antwerp, Mechlin, &c. See Stow'sAnnals, p. 711. Some attempt made with the assistance of English volunteers to retrieve the former of those places, probably gave occasion to this ballad. I can find no mention of our heroine in history, but the following rhymes rendered her famous among our poets. Ben Jonson often mentions her, and calls any remarkable virago by her name. See hisEpic[oe]ne, first acted in 1609, Act 4, sc. 2: hisTale of a Tub, Act 4, sc. 4: and his masque entitledThe Fortunate Isles, 1626, where he quotes the very words of the ballad,
——Mary Ambree,(Who marched so freeTo the siege of Gaunt,And death could not daunt,As the ballad doth vaunt)Were a braver wight, &c.
——Mary Ambree,(Who marched so freeTo the siege of Gaunt,And death could not daunt,As the ballad doth vaunt)Were a braver wight, &c.
She is also mentioned in Fletcher'sScornful Lady, Act 5,sub finem.
"This ballad is printed from a black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, improved from the Editor's folio MS., and by conjecture. The full title is, "The valourous acts performed at Gaunt by the brave bonnie lass Mary Ambree, who, in revenge of her lovers death, did play her part most gallantly".The tune is, The blind beggar, &c."—Percy.
When captaines couragious, whom death cold not daunte,Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt,They mustred their souldiers by two and by three,And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree.When[the] brave sergeant-majorwas slaine in her sight,5Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight,Because he was slaine most treacherouslìe,Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree.She clothed herselfe from the top to the toe,In buffe of the bravest, most seemelye to showe;10A faire shirt of male then slipped on shee:Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?A helmett of proofe shee strait did provide,A stronge arminge-sword shee girt by her side,On her hand a goodly faire gauntlett put shee:15Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?Then tooke shee her sworde and her targett in hand,Bidding all such, as wold, [to] bee of her band;To wayte on her person came thousand and three:Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?20"My soldiers," she saith, "soe valliant and bold,Nowe followe your captaine, whom you doe beholde;Still formost in battell myselfe will I bee:"Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?Then cryed out her souldiers, and loude they did say,25"Soe well thou becomest this gallant array,Thy harte and thy weapons so well do agree,Noe mayden was ever like Mary Ambree."Shee cheared her souldiers, that foughten for life,30With ancyent and standard, with drum and with fife,With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded so free;Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?"Before I will see the worst of you allTo come into danger of death or of thrall,This hand and this life I will venture so free:"35Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?Shee ledd upp her souldiers in battaile array,Gainst three times theyr number by breake of the daye;Seven howers in skirmish continued shee:Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?40She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott,And her enemyes bodyes with bullets so hott;For one of her owne men a score killed shee:Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?And when her false gunner, to spoyle her intent,45Away all her pellets and powder had sent,Straight with her keen weapon shee slasht him in three:Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre,At length she was forced to make a retyre;50Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew shee:Was not this a brave bonny lassee, Mary Ambree?Her foes they besett her on everye side,As thinking close siege shee cold never abide;To beate down the walles they all did decree:55But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree.Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in hand,And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand,There daring their captaines to match any three:O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree!60"Now saye, English captaine, what woldest thou giveTo ransome thy selfe, which else must not live?Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou must bee:"Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree."Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold,65Whom thinke you before you now you doe behold?""A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe free,Who shortleye with us a prisoner must bee.""No captaine of England; behold in your sightTwo brests in my bosome, and therfore no knight:70Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you see,But a poor simple mayden called Mary Ambree.""But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare,Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in warre?If England doth yield such brave mayden as thee,75Full well may they conquer, faire Mary Ambree."The prince of Great Parma heard of her renowneWho long had advanced for Englands faire crowne;Hee wooed her and sued her his mistress to bee,And offerd rich presents to Mary Ambree.80But this virtuous mayden despised them all:"Ile nere sell my honour for purple nor pall;A mayden of England, sir, never will beeThe whore of a monarcke," quoth Mary Ambree.Then to her owne country shee backe did returne,85Still holding the foes of faire England in scorne;Therfore English captaines of every degreeSing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree.
When captaines couragious, whom death cold not daunte,Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt,They mustred their souldiers by two and by three,And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree.
When[the] brave sergeant-majorwas slaine in her sight,5Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight,Because he was slaine most treacherouslìe,Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree.
She clothed herselfe from the top to the toe,In buffe of the bravest, most seemelye to showe;10A faire shirt of male then slipped on shee:Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
A helmett of proofe shee strait did provide,A stronge arminge-sword shee girt by her side,On her hand a goodly faire gauntlett put shee:15Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
Then tooke shee her sworde and her targett in hand,Bidding all such, as wold, [to] bee of her band;To wayte on her person came thousand and three:Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?20
"My soldiers," she saith, "soe valliant and bold,Nowe followe your captaine, whom you doe beholde;Still formost in battell myselfe will I bee:"Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
Then cryed out her souldiers, and loude they did say,25"Soe well thou becomest this gallant array,Thy harte and thy weapons so well do agree,Noe mayden was ever like Mary Ambree."
Shee cheared her souldiers, that foughten for life,30With ancyent and standard, with drum and with fife,With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded so free;Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
"Before I will see the worst of you allTo come into danger of death or of thrall,This hand and this life I will venture so free:"35Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
Shee ledd upp her souldiers in battaile array,Gainst three times theyr number by breake of the daye;Seven howers in skirmish continued shee:Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?40
She filled the skyes with the smoke of her shott,And her enemyes bodyes with bullets so hott;For one of her owne men a score killed shee:Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
And when her false gunner, to spoyle her intent,45Away all her pellets and powder had sent,Straight with her keen weapon shee slasht him in three:Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
Being falselye betrayed for lucre of hyre,At length she was forced to make a retyre;50Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew shee:Was not this a brave bonny lassee, Mary Ambree?
Her foes they besett her on everye side,As thinking close siege shee cold never abide;To beate down the walles they all did decree:55But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree.
Then tooke shee her sword and her targett in hand,And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand,There daring their captaines to match any three:O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree!60
"Now saye, English captaine, what woldest thou giveTo ransome thy selfe, which else must not live?Come yield thy selfe quicklye, or slaine thou must bee:"Then smiled sweetlye brave Mary Ambree.
"Ye captaines couragious, of valour so bold,65Whom thinke you before you now you doe behold?""A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe free,Who shortleye with us a prisoner must bee."
"No captaine of England; behold in your sightTwo brests in my bosome, and therfore no knight:70Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you see,But a poor simple mayden called Mary Ambree."
"But art thou a woman, as thou dost declare,Whose valor hath proved so undaunted in warre?If England doth yield such brave mayden as thee,75Full well may they conquer, faire Mary Ambree."
The prince of Great Parma heard of her renowneWho long had advanced for Englands faire crowne;Hee wooed her and sued her his mistress to bee,And offerd rich presents to Mary Ambree.80
But this virtuous mayden despised them all:"Ile nere sell my honour for purple nor pall;A mayden of England, sir, never will beeThe whore of a monarcke," quoth Mary Ambree.
Then to her owne country shee backe did returne,85Still holding the foes of faire England in scorne;Therfore English captaines of every degreeSing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree.
5. So P. C. Sir John Major in MS.
5. So P. C. Sir John Major in MS.
Percy'sReliques, ii. 235.
"Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughby of Eresby, had, in the year 1586, distinguished himself at the siege of Zutphen, in the Low Countries. He was the year after made general of the English forces in the United Provinces, in room of the Earl of Leicester, who was recalled. This gave him an opportunity of signalizing his courage and military skill in several actions against the Spaniards. One of these, greatly exaggerated by popular report, is probably the subject of this old ballad, which, on account of its flattering encomiums on English valour, hath always been a favourite with the people.
"Lord Willoughbie died in 1601.—Both Norris and Turner were famous among the military men of that age.
"The subject of this ballad (which is printed from an old black-letter copy, with some conjectural emendations) may possibly receive illustration from what Chapman says in the dedication to his version of Homer'sFrogs and Mice, concerning the brave andmemorable retreat of Sir John Norris, with only 1000 men, through the whole Spanish army, under the Duke of Parma, for three miles together."Percy.
Lord Willoughby was son of that Duchess of Suffolk, whose extraordinary adventures, while in exile on the continent during the reign of Queen Mary, are the subject of an often-printed ballad called theDuchess of Suffolk's Calamity. SeeStrange Histories, Percy Society, iii. 17, and the Appendix to this volume.
The fifteenth day of July,With glistering spear and shield,A famous fight in FlandersWas foughten in the field:The most couragious officers5Were English captains three;But the bravest man in battelWas brave Lord Willoughbèy.The next was Captain Norris,A valiant man was hee;10The other Captain Turner,From field would never flee.With fifteen hundred fighting men,Alas! there were no more,They fought with fourteen thousand then,15Upon the bloody shore."Stand to it, noble pikemen,And look you round about:And shoot you right, you bow-men,And we will keep them out.20You musquet and calìver men,Do you prove true to me:I'le be the formost man in fight,"Says brave Lord Willoughbèy.And then the bloody enemy25They fiercely did assail,And fought it out most furiously,Not doubting to prevail.The wounded men on both sides fell,Most pitious for to see,30Yet nothing could the courage quellOf brave Lord Willoughbèy.For seven hours, to all mens view,This fight endured sore,Until our men so feeble grew35That they could fight no more;And then upon dead horses,Full savourly they eat,And drank the puddle water,They could no better get.40When they had fed so freely,They kneeled on the ground,And praised God devoutlyFor the favour they had found;And beating up their colours,45The fight they did renew,And turning tow'rds the Spaniard,A thousand more they slew.The sharp steel-pointed arrows,And bullets thick did fly;50Then did our valiant soldiersCharge on most furiously:Which made the Spaniards waver;They thought it best to flee;They fear'd the stout behaviour55Of brave Lord Willoughbèy.Then quoth the Spanish general,"Come, let us march away;I fear we shall be spoiled allIf here we longer stay;60For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey,With courage fierce and fell;He will not give one inch of wayFor all the devils in hell."And then the fearful enemy65Was quickly put to flight,Our men persued couragiously,And caught their forces quite;But at [the] last they gave a shout,Which ecchoed through the sky;70"God and St. George for England!"The conquerers did cry.This news was brought to EnglandWith all the speed might be,And soon our gracious queen was told75Of this same victory."O this is brave Lord Willoughbey,My love that ever won;Of all the lords of honour,'Tis he great deeds hath done."80To the souldiers that were maimedAnd wounded in the fray,The queen allowed a pensionOf fifteen pence a day;And from all costs and charges85She quit and set them free:And this she did all for the sakeOf brave Lord Willoughbèy.Then courage, noble Englishmen,And never be dismaid;90If that we be but one to ten,We will not be afraidTo fight with foraign enemies,And set our nation free:And thus I end the bloody bout95Of brave Lord Willoughbèy.
The fifteenth day of July,With glistering spear and shield,A famous fight in FlandersWas foughten in the field:The most couragious officers5Were English captains three;But the bravest man in battelWas brave Lord Willoughbèy.
The next was Captain Norris,A valiant man was hee;10The other Captain Turner,From field would never flee.With fifteen hundred fighting men,Alas! there were no more,They fought with fourteen thousand then,15Upon the bloody shore.
"Stand to it, noble pikemen,And look you round about:And shoot you right, you bow-men,And we will keep them out.20You musquet and calìver men,Do you prove true to me:I'le be the formost man in fight,"Says brave Lord Willoughbèy.
And then the bloody enemy25They fiercely did assail,And fought it out most furiously,Not doubting to prevail.The wounded men on both sides fell,Most pitious for to see,30Yet nothing could the courage quellOf brave Lord Willoughbèy.
For seven hours, to all mens view,This fight endured sore,Until our men so feeble grew35That they could fight no more;And then upon dead horses,Full savourly they eat,And drank the puddle water,They could no better get.40
When they had fed so freely,They kneeled on the ground,And praised God devoutlyFor the favour they had found;And beating up their colours,45The fight they did renew,And turning tow'rds the Spaniard,A thousand more they slew.
The sharp steel-pointed arrows,And bullets thick did fly;50Then did our valiant soldiersCharge on most furiously:Which made the Spaniards waver;They thought it best to flee;They fear'd the stout behaviour55Of brave Lord Willoughbèy.
Then quoth the Spanish general,"Come, let us march away;I fear we shall be spoiled allIf here we longer stay;60For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey,With courage fierce and fell;He will not give one inch of wayFor all the devils in hell."
And then the fearful enemy65Was quickly put to flight,Our men persued couragiously,And caught their forces quite;But at [the] last they gave a shout,Which ecchoed through the sky;70"God and St. George for England!"The conquerers did cry.
This news was brought to EnglandWith all the speed might be,And soon our gracious queen was told75Of this same victory."O this is brave Lord Willoughbey,My love that ever won;Of all the lords of honour,'Tis he great deeds hath done."80
To the souldiers that were maimedAnd wounded in the fray,The queen allowed a pensionOf fifteen pence a day;And from all costs and charges85She quit and set them free:And this she did all for the sakeOf brave Lord Willoughbèy.
Then courage, noble Englishmen,And never be dismaid;90If that we be but one to ten,We will not be afraidTo fight with foraign enemies,And set our nation free:And thus I end the bloody bout95Of brave Lord Willoughbèy.
FromThe Tea-Table Miscellany, ii. 188.
In consequence of a suspicion that the Earl of Murray had been party to an attempt of his cousin, the notorious Bothwell, against the person of the King (James VI.), a commission was issued for bringing Murray before the sovereign for examination. The arrest was inconsiderately entrusted to the Earl of Huntly, Murray's mortal enemy. The young earl was at that time peacefully residing at Dunnibirsel, the house of his mother, Lady Downe. Huntly surrounded the place and summoned the inmates to surrender, and the demand not being complied with, set fire to the mansion. Murray escaped from the flames, but was overtaken by his foes and savagely slain. The event took place on the night of the 7th of February, 1592.
The youth, beauty, and accomplishments of the victim of this outrage made him a favourite with the people, and there was a universal clamor for revenge. On the 10th of the month, proclamation was made for all noblemen and barons, in a great number of shires, to rise in arms, to join the King for the pursuit of the Earl of Huntly, who, however, surrendered himself, and was dismissed, on security for his appearance to answer for the crime. The moderation of James gave rise to a scandalous report, that the king countenancedthe murderer, out of jealousy for the favor with which the bonny earl was regarded by the Queen.
The ballad ofYoung Waters(vol. iii. p. 89) has, without convincing reasons, been supposed to be founded on the story of the Earl of Murray.
The first of the two pieces which follow is from Ramsay'sTea-Table Miscellany.The second, which may perhaps be a part of the same ballad, was first printed in Finlay's collection.
Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands,O where have you been?They have slain the Earl of Murray,And they laid him on the green."Now wae be to thee, Huntly!5And wherefore did you sae?I bade you bring him wi' you,But forbade you him to slay."He was a braw gallant,And he rid at the ring;10And the bonny Earl of Murray,O he might hae been a king.He was a braw gallant,And he play'd at the ba';And the bonny Earl of Murray15Was the flower amang them a'.He was a braw gallant,And he play'd at the glove;And the bonny Earl of Murray,O he was the Queen's love.20O lang will his ladyLook o'er the castle Down,Ere she see the Earl of MurrayCome sounding thro' the town.
Ye Highlands, and ye Lawlands,O where have you been?They have slain the Earl of Murray,And they laid him on the green.
"Now wae be to thee, Huntly!5And wherefore did you sae?I bade you bring him wi' you,But forbade you him to slay."
He was a braw gallant,And he rid at the ring;10And the bonny Earl of Murray,O he might hae been a king.
He was a braw gallant,And he play'd at the ba';And the bonny Earl of Murray15Was the flower amang them a'.
He was a braw gallant,And he play'd at the glove;And the bonny Earl of Murray,O he was the Queen's love.20
O lang will his ladyLook o'er the castle Down,Ere she see the Earl of MurrayCome sounding thro' the town.
From Finlay'sScottish Ballads, ii. 21.
"Open the gates,And let him come in;He is my brother Huntly,He'll do him nae harm."The gates they were opent,5They let him come in;But fause traitor Huntly,He did him great harm.He's ben and ben,And ben to his bed;10And with a sharp rapierHe stabbed him dead.The lady came down the stair,Wringing her hands;"He has slain the Earl o' Murray,15The flower o' Scotland."But Huntly lap on his horse,Rade to the king:"Ye're welcome hame, Huntly,And whare hae ye been?20"Whare hae ye been?And how hae ye sped?""I've killed the Earl o' Murray,Dead in his bed.""Foul fa' you, Huntly!25And why did ye so?You might have ta'en the Earl o' MurrayAnd saved his life too.""Her bread it's to bake,Her yill is to brew;30My sister's a widow,And sair do I rue."Her corn grows ripe,Her meadows grow green,But in bonny Dinnibristle35I darena be seen."
"Open the gates,And let him come in;He is my brother Huntly,He'll do him nae harm."
The gates they were opent,5They let him come in;But fause traitor Huntly,He did him great harm.
He's ben and ben,And ben to his bed;10And with a sharp rapierHe stabbed him dead.
The lady came down the stair,Wringing her hands;"He has slain the Earl o' Murray,15The flower o' Scotland."
But Huntly lap on his horse,Rade to the king:"Ye're welcome hame, Huntly,And whare hae ye been?20
"Whare hae ye been?And how hae ye sped?""I've killed the Earl o' Murray,Dead in his bed."
"Foul fa' you, Huntly!25And why did ye so?You might have ta'en the Earl o' MurrayAnd saved his life too."
"Her bread it's to bake,Her yill is to brew;30My sister's a widow,And sair do I rue.
"Her corn grows ripe,Her meadows grow green,But in bonny Dinnibristle35I darena be seen."
This is one of many exulting effusions which were called forth by the taking of Cadiz (vulgarly called Cales). The town was captured on the 21st of June, 1596, the Earl of Effingham being high-admiral of the fleet, and Essex general of the land forces. Sir W. Raleigh, Lord Thomas Howard, and other distinguished soldiers had commands in the expedition. The praise here bestowed on Essex's humanity was richly deserved, and the booty taken by the conquerors is not exaggerated. The whole loss of the Spaniards, in their city and their fleet, was estimated at twenty millions of ducats.
We give this ballad from Deloney'sGarland of Good Will, as reprinted by the Percy Society, vol. xxx. p. 113. The copy in theReliques(ii. 241), which was corrected by the editor, differs but slightly from the present.
Long had the proud SpaniardsAdvancèd to conquer us,Threatening our countryWith fire and sword;Often preparing5Their navy most sumptuous,With all the provisionThat Spain could afford.Dub a-dub, dub,Thus strike the drums,10Tan-ta-ra, ta-ra-ra,The Englishman comes.To the seas presentlyWent our lord admiral,With knights couragious,15And captains full good;The earl of Essex,A prosperous general,With him preparèdTo pass the salt flood.20Dub a-dub, &c.At Plymouth speedily,Took they ships valiantly;Braver ships neverWere seen under sail;With their fair colours spread,25And streamers o'er their head;Now, bragging Spaniards,Take heed of your tail.Dub a-dub, &c.Unto Cales cunningly,Came we most happily,30Where the kings navyDid secretly ride;Being upon their backs,Piercing their buts of sack,Ere that the Spaniards35Our coming descry'd.Tan-ta-ra, ta-ra-ra,The Englishman comes;Bounce a-bounce, bounce a-bounce,Off went the guns.40Great was the crying,Running and riding,Which at that seasonWas made at that place;Then beacons were firèd,45As need was requirèd;To hide their great treasure,They had little space:"Alas!" they cryèd,"English men comes."50There you might see the ships,How they were firèd fast,And how the men drown'dThemselves in the sea;There you may hear them cry,55Wail and weep piteously;When as they saw no shiftTo escape thence away.Dub a-dub, &c.The great Saint Philip,The pride of the Spaniards,60Was burnt to the bottom,And sunk in the sea;But the Saint Andrew,And eke the Saint Matthew,We took in fight manfully,65And brought them away.Dub a-dub, &c.The earl of Essex,Most valiant and hardy,With horsemen and footmenMarch'd towards the town;70The enemies which saw them,Full greatly affrighted,Did fly for their safeguard,And durst not come down.Dub a-dub, &c."Now," quoth the noble earl,75"Courage, my soldiers all!Fight, and be valiant,And spoil you shall have;And well rewarded all,From the great to the small;80But look that the womenAnd children you save."Dub a-dub, &c.The Spaniards at that sight,Saw 'twas in vain to fight,Hung up their flags of truce,85Yielding the town;We march'd in presently,Decking the walls on highWith our English colours,Which purchas'd renown.90Dub a-dub, &c.Ent'ring the houses then,And of the richest men,For gold and treasureWe searchèd each day;In some places we did find95Pye baking in the oven,Meat at the fire roasting,And men run away.Dub a-dub, &c.Full of rich merchandise,Every shop we did see,100Damask and sattinsAnd velvet full fair;Which soldiers measure outBy the length of their swords;Of all commodities,105Each one hath share.Dub a-dub, &c.Thus Cales was taken,And our brave generalMarch'd to the market-place,There he did stand;110There many prisonersOf good account were took;Many crav'd mercy,And mercy they found.Dub a-dub, &c.When as our general115Saw they delayèd time,And would not ransomThe town as they said,With their fair wainscots,Their presses and bedsteads,120Their joint-stools and tables,A fire we made:And when the town burnt in a flame,With tan-ta-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra,From thence we came.125
Long had the proud SpaniardsAdvancèd to conquer us,Threatening our countryWith fire and sword;Often preparing5Their navy most sumptuous,With all the provisionThat Spain could afford.
Dub a-dub, dub,Thus strike the drums,10Tan-ta-ra, ta-ra-ra,The Englishman comes.
To the seas presentlyWent our lord admiral,With knights couragious,15And captains full good;The earl of Essex,A prosperous general,With him preparèdTo pass the salt flood.20Dub a-dub, &c.
At Plymouth speedily,Took they ships valiantly;Braver ships neverWere seen under sail;With their fair colours spread,25And streamers o'er their head;Now, bragging Spaniards,Take heed of your tail.Dub a-dub, &c.
Unto Cales cunningly,Came we most happily,30Where the kings navyDid secretly ride;Being upon their backs,Piercing their buts of sack,Ere that the Spaniards35Our coming descry'd.Tan-ta-ra, ta-ra-ra,The Englishman comes;Bounce a-bounce, bounce a-bounce,Off went the guns.40
Great was the crying,Running and riding,Which at that seasonWas made at that place;Then beacons were firèd,45As need was requirèd;To hide their great treasure,They had little space:"Alas!" they cryèd,"English men comes."50
There you might see the ships,How they were firèd fast,And how the men drown'dThemselves in the sea;There you may hear them cry,55Wail and weep piteously;When as they saw no shiftTo escape thence away.Dub a-dub, &c.
The great Saint Philip,The pride of the Spaniards,60Was burnt to the bottom,And sunk in the sea;But the Saint Andrew,And eke the Saint Matthew,We took in fight manfully,65And brought them away.Dub a-dub, &c.
The earl of Essex,Most valiant and hardy,With horsemen and footmenMarch'd towards the town;70The enemies which saw them,Full greatly affrighted,Did fly for their safeguard,And durst not come down.Dub a-dub, &c.
"Now," quoth the noble earl,75"Courage, my soldiers all!Fight, and be valiant,And spoil you shall have;And well rewarded all,From the great to the small;80But look that the womenAnd children you save."Dub a-dub, &c.
The Spaniards at that sight,Saw 'twas in vain to fight,Hung up their flags of truce,85Yielding the town;We march'd in presently,Decking the walls on highWith our English colours,Which purchas'd renown.90Dub a-dub, &c.
Ent'ring the houses then,And of the richest men,For gold and treasureWe searchèd each day;In some places we did find95Pye baking in the oven,Meat at the fire roasting,And men run away.Dub a-dub, &c.
Full of rich merchandise,Every shop we did see,100Damask and sattinsAnd velvet full fair;Which soldiers measure outBy the length of their swords;Of all commodities,105Each one hath share.Dub a-dub, &c.
Thus Cales was taken,And our brave generalMarch'd to the market-place,There he did stand;110There many prisonersOf good account were took;Many crav'd mercy,And mercy they found.Dub a-dub, &c.
When as our general115Saw they delayèd time,And would not ransomThe town as they said,With their fair wainscots,Their presses and bedsteads,120Their joint-stools and tables,A fire we made:And when the town burnt in a flame,With tan-ta-ra, tan-ta-ra-ra,From thence we came.125
"When the Scottish Covenanters rose up in arms, and advanced to the English borders in 1639, many of the courtiers complimented the king by raising forces at their own expense. Among these none were more distinguished than the gallant Sir John Suckling, who raised a troop of horse, so richly accoutred, that it cost him 12,000l.The like expensive equipment of other parts of the army made the king remark, that "the Scots would fight stoutly, if it were but for the Englishmen's fine cloaths." When they came to action, the rugged Scots proved more than a match for the fine showy English: many of whom behaved remarkably ill, and among the rest this splendid troop of Sir John Suckling's."Percy.
This scoffing ballad, sometimes attributed to Suckling himself, is taken from theMusarum Deliciæof Sir John Mennis and Dr. James Smith (p. 81 of the reprint,Upon Sir John Sucklings most warlike preparations for the Scotish warre). The former is said by Wood to have been the author. Percy's copy (Reliques, ii. 341) has one or two different readings.—The first stanza is a parody onJohn Dory.