BOOK II.

RELIQUES OF ANCIENT POETRY, ETC.

SERIES THE SECOND.

Inthe former Book we brought down this second Series of poems, as low as about the middle of the sixteenth century. We now find the Muses deeply engaged in religious controversy. The sudden revolution, wrought in the opinions of mankind by the Reformation, is one of the most striking events in the history of the human mind. It could not but engross the attention of every individual in that age, and therefore no other writings would have any chance to be read, but such as related to this grand topic. The alterations made in the established religion by Henry VIII., the sudden changes it underwent in the three succeeding reigns within so short a space as eleven or twelve years, and the violent struggles between expiring Popery, and growing Protestantism, could not but interest all mankind. Accordingly every pen was engaged in the dispute. The followers of the Old and New Profession (as they were called) had their respective Ballad-makers; and every day produced some popular sonnet for or against the Reformation. The following ballad, and that intitledLittle John Nobody, may serve for specimens of the writings of each party. Both were written in the reign of Edward VI.; and are not the worst that were composed upon the occasion. Controversial divinity is no friend to poetic flights. Yet this ballad ofLuther and the Popeis not altogether devoid of spirit; it is of the dramatic kind, and the characters are tolerably well sustained; especially that of Luther, which is made to speak in a manner not unbecoming the spirit and courage of that vigorous Reformer. It is printed from the original black-letter copy (in the Pepys collection, vol. i. folio,) to which is prefixed a large wooden cut, designed and executed by some eminent master.

We are not to wonder that the ballad-writers of that age should be inspired with the zeal of controversy, when the very stage teemed with polemic divinity. I have now before me two very ancient quarto black-letter plays: the one published in the time of Henry VIII., intitled,Every Man; the other calledLustyJuventus, printed in the reign of Edward VI. In the former of these, occasion is taken to inculcate great reverence for old mother church and her superstitions:[513]in the other, the poet (oneR. Wever) with great success attacks both. So that the Stage in those days literally was, what wise men have always wished it, a supplement to the pulpit:—This was so much the case, that in the play ofLusty Juventus, chapter and verse are every where quoted as formally as in a sermon; take an instance:

"The Lord by his prophet Ezechiel sayeth in this wise playnlye,As in the xxxiij chapter it doth appere:Be converted, O ye children, &c."

From this play we learn that most of the young people were New Gospellers, or friends to the Reformation; and that the old were tenacious of the doctrines imbibed in their youth: for thus the Devil is introduced lamenting the downfal of superstition:

"The olde people would believe stil in my lawes,But the yonger sort leade them a contrary way,They wyl not beleve, they playnly say,In olde traditions, and made by men, &c."

And in another place Hypocrisy urges,

"The worlde was never meriSince chyldren were so boulde:Now every boy will be a teacher,The father a foole, the chyld a preacher."

Of the plays abovementioned, to the first is subjoined the following Printer's Colophon, ¶ Thus endeth this moral playe of Every Man, ¶ Imprynted at London in Powles chyrche yarde by me John Skot. In Mr. Garrick's collection is an imperfect copy of the same play, printed by Richarde Pynson.

The other is intitled,An enterlude called Lusty Juventus: and is thus distinguished at the end: Finis. quod R. Wever. Imprinted at London in Paules churche yeard, by Abraham Vele at the signe of the Lambe. Of this too Mr. Garrick has an imperfect copy of a different edition.

Of these two plays the reader may find some further particulars in the former volume, Appendix II., seeThe Essay on the Origin ofthe English Stage; and the curious reader will find the plays themselves printed at large in Hawkins'sOrigin of the EnglishDrama, 3 vols. Oxford, 1773, 12mo.

The Husbandman.

Let us lift up our hartes all,And prayse the lordes magnificenceWhich hath given the wolues a fall,And is become our strong defence:For they thorowe a false pretensFrom Christes bloude dyd all us leade,[514]5Gettynge from every man his pence,As satisfactours for the deade.For what we with our Flayles coulde getTo kepe our house, and servauntes;10That did the Freers[515]from us fet,And with our soules played the merchauntes:And thus they with theyr false warrantesOf our sweate have easelye lyved,That for fatnesse theyr belyes pantes,15So greatlye have they us deceaued.They spared not the fatherlesse,The carefull, nor the pore wydowe;They wolde have somewhat more or lesse,If it above the ground did growe:20But now we Husbandmen do knoweAl their subteltye, and their false caste;[516]For the lorde hath them overthroweWith his swete word now at the laste.

For what we with our Flayles coulde getTo kepe our house, and servauntes;10That did the Freers[515]from us fet,And with our soules played the merchauntes:And thus they with theyr false warrantesOf our sweate have easelye lyved,That for fatnesse theyr belyes pantes,15So greatlye have they us deceaued.

They spared not the fatherlesse,The carefull, nor the pore wydowe;They wolde have somewhat more or lesse,If it above the ground did growe:20But now we Husbandmen do knoweAl their subteltye, and their false caste;[516]For the lorde hath them overthroweWith his swete word now at the laste.

Doctor Martin Luther.

Thou antichrist, with thy thre crownes,25Hast usurped kynges powers,As having power over realmes and townes,Whom thou oughtest to serve all houres:Thou thinkest by thy jugglyng coloursThou maist lykewise Gods word oppresse;30As do the deceatful foulers,When they theyr nettes craftelye dresse.Thou flatterest every prince, and lord,Thretening poore men with swearde and fyre;All those, that do followe Gods worde,35To make them cleve to thy desire,Theyr bokes thou burnest in flaming fire;Cursing with boke, bell, and candell,Such as to reade them have desyre,Or with them are wyllynge to meddell.40Thy false power wyl I bryng down,Thou shalt not raygne many a yere,I shall dryve the from citye and towne,Even with thisPENthat thou seyste here:Thou fyghtest with swerd, shylde, and speare,45But I wyll fyght with Gods worde;Which is now so open and cleare,That it shall brynge the under the borde.[517]

Thou flatterest every prince, and lord,Thretening poore men with swearde and fyre;All those, that do followe Gods worde,35To make them cleve to thy desire,Theyr bokes thou burnest in flaming fire;Cursing with boke, bell, and candell,Such as to reade them have desyre,Or with them are wyllynge to meddell.40

Thy false power wyl I bryng down,Thou shalt not raygne many a yere,I shall dryve the from citye and towne,Even with thisPENthat thou seyste here:Thou fyghtest with swerd, shylde, and speare,45But I wyll fyght with Gods worde;Which is now so open and cleare,That it shall brynge the under the borde.[517]

The Pope.

Though I brought never so many to hel,And to utter dampnacion,50Throughe myne ensample, and consel,Or thorow any abhominacion,Yet doth our lawe excuse my fashion.And thou, Luther, arte accursed;For blamynge me, and my condicion,55The holy decres have the condempned.Thou stryvest against my purgatory,Because thou findest it not in scripture;As though I by myne auctoriteMyght not make one for myne honoure.60Knowest thou not, that I have powerTo make, and mar, in heaven and hell,In erth, and every creature?Whatsoever I do it must be well.As for scripture, I am above it;65Am not I Gods hye vicare?Shulde I be bounde to folowe it,As the carpenter his ruler?[518]Nay, nay, hereticks ye are,That will not obey my auctoritie.70With thisSWORDEI wyll declare,That ye shal al accursed be.

Thou stryvest against my purgatory,Because thou findest it not in scripture;As though I by myne auctoriteMyght not make one for myne honoure.60Knowest thou not, that I have powerTo make, and mar, in heaven and hell,In erth, and every creature?Whatsoever I do it must be well.

As for scripture, I am above it;65Am not I Gods hye vicare?Shulde I be bounde to folowe it,As the carpenter his ruler?[518]Nay, nay, hereticks ye are,That will not obey my auctoritie.70With thisSWORDEI wyll declare,That ye shal al accursed be.

The Cardinal.

I am a Cardinall of Rome,Sent from Christes hye vicary,To graunt pardon to more, and sume,75That wil Luther resist strongly:He is a greate hereticke treuly,And regardeth to much the scripture;For he thinketh onely therebyTo subdue the popes high honoure.80Receive ye thisPARDONdevoutely,And loke that ye agaynst him fight;Plucke up youre herts, and be manlye,For the pope sayth ye do but ryght:And this be sure, that at one flyghte,85Allthough ye be overcome by chaunce,Ye shall to heaven go with greate myghte;God can make you no resistaunce.But these heretikes for their medlyngeShall go down to hel every one;90For they have not the popes blessynge,Nor regarde his holy pardòn:They thinke from all destructionBy Christes bloud to be saved,Fearynge not our excommunicacion,95Therefore shall they al be dampned.

Receive ye thisPARDONdevoutely,And loke that ye agaynst him fight;Plucke up youre herts, and be manlye,For the pope sayth ye do but ryght:And this be sure, that at one flyghte,85Allthough ye be overcome by chaunce,Ye shall to heaven go with greate myghte;God can make you no resistaunce.

But these heretikes for their medlyngeShall go down to hel every one;90For they have not the popes blessynge,Nor regarde his holy pardòn:They thinke from all destructionBy Christes bloud to be saved,Fearynge not our excommunicacion,95Therefore shall they al be dampned.

FOOTNOTES:[513]Take a specimen from his high encomiums on the priesthood."There is no emperour, kyng, duke, ne baronThat of God hath commissyon,As hath the leest preest in the world beynge.* * * * *God hath to them more power gyven,Than to any aungell, that is in heven;With v. words he may consecrateGoddes body in fleshe and blode to take,And handeleth his maker bytwene his handes.The preest byndeth and unbindeth all bandes,Bothe in erthe and in heven.—Thou ministers all the sacramentes seven.Though we kyst thy fete thou were worthy;Thou art the surgyan that cureth synne dedly;No remedy may we fynde under God,But alone on preesthode.----God gave preest that dignitè,And letteth them in his stede amonge us be,Thus be they above aungels in degre."See Hawkins'sOrig. of Eng. Drama, vol. i. p. 61.[514]i.e.denied us the cup, see below, ver. 94.[515][friars.][516][stratagem.][517]i.e.make thee knock under the table.[518]i.e.his rule.

[513]Take a specimen from his high encomiums on the priesthood."There is no emperour, kyng, duke, ne baronThat of God hath commissyon,As hath the leest preest in the world beynge.* * * * *God hath to them more power gyven,Than to any aungell, that is in heven;With v. words he may consecrateGoddes body in fleshe and blode to take,And handeleth his maker bytwene his handes.The preest byndeth and unbindeth all bandes,Bothe in erthe and in heven.—Thou ministers all the sacramentes seven.Though we kyst thy fete thou were worthy;Thou art the surgyan that cureth synne dedly;No remedy may we fynde under God,But alone on preesthode.----God gave preest that dignitè,And letteth them in his stede amonge us be,Thus be they above aungels in degre."See Hawkins'sOrig. of Eng. Drama, vol. i. p. 61.

[513]Take a specimen from his high encomiums on the priesthood.

"There is no emperour, kyng, duke, ne baronThat of God hath commissyon,As hath the leest preest in the world beynge.* * * * *God hath to them more power gyven,Than to any aungell, that is in heven;With v. words he may consecrateGoddes body in fleshe and blode to take,And handeleth his maker bytwene his handes.The preest byndeth and unbindeth all bandes,Bothe in erthe and in heven.—Thou ministers all the sacramentes seven.Though we kyst thy fete thou were worthy;Thou art the surgyan that cureth synne dedly;No remedy may we fynde under God,But alone on preesthode.----God gave preest that dignitè,And letteth them in his stede amonge us be,Thus be they above aungels in degre."

See Hawkins'sOrig. of Eng. Drama, vol. i. p. 61.

[514]i.e.denied us the cup, see below, ver. 94.

[515][friars.]

[516][stratagem.]

[517]i.e.make thee knock under the table.

[518]i.e.his rule.

A Scottish Song.

Whilein England verse was made the vehicle of controversy, and popery was attacked in it by logical argument, or stinging satire; we may be sure the zeal of the Scottish Reformers would not suffer their pens to be idle, but many a pasquil was discharged at the Romish priests, and their enormous encroachments on property. Of this kind perhaps is the following, (preserved in Maitland's MS. Collection of Scottish poems in the Pepysian library:)

"Tak a Wobster, that is leill,And a Miller, that will not steill,With ane Priest, that is not gredy,And lay ane deid corpse thame by,And, throw virtue of thame three,That deid corpse sall qwyknit be."

Thus far all was fair: but the furious hatred of popery led them to employ their rhymes in a still more licentious manner. It is a received tradition in Scotland, that at the time of the Reformation, ridiculous and obscene songs were composed to be sung by the rabble to the tunes of the most favourite hymns in the Latin service.Green sleeves and pudding pies(designed to ridicule the popish clergy) is said to have been one of these metamorphosed hymns:Maggy Lauderwas another:John Anderson my jowas a third. The original music of all these burlesque sonnets was very fine. To give a specimen of their manner, we have inserted one of the least offensive. The reader will pardon the meanness of the composition for the sake of the anecdote, which strongly marks the spirit of the times.

In the present Edition this song is much improved by some new readings communicated by a friend; who thinks by the "Seven Bairns," in st. 2d. are meant the Seven Sacraments; five of which were the spurious offspring of Mother Church: as the first stanza contains a satirical allusion to the luxury of the popish clergy.

The adaptation of solemn church music to these ludicrous piecesand the jumble of ideas thereby occasioned, will account for the following fact.—From the Records of the General Assembly in Scotland, called,The Book of the Universal Kirk, p. 90, 7th July, 1568, it appears, that Thomas Bassendyne printer in Edinburgh, printed "a psalme buik, in the end whereof was found printit ane baudy sang, called,Welcome Fortunes."[519]

[In the first edition of theReliquesthe number of the bairns is fixed at five instead of seven, and the rhyme to five is thrive instead of threven. The last line is

"For four of them were gotten, quhan Willie was awa."

The present copy has thus been altered to support the untenable position that the seven bairns were meant to represent the seven sacraments.According to tradition John Anderson was formerly the town crier of Kelso, and the song is not of any great antiquity, for it is first found in the Skene MS., the date of which Dauney (AncientScottish Melodies, p. 219) fixes at the beginning of the seventeenth century, but which includes, according to Mr. Chappell, an English country dance that first appeared in 1698 (Popular Music of theOlden Time, vol. ii. p. 770).Burns wrote his song—

The present copy has thus been altered to support the untenable position that the seven bairns were meant to represent the seven sacraments.

According to tradition John Anderson was formerly the town crier of Kelso, and the song is not of any great antiquity, for it is first found in the Skene MS., the date of which Dauney (AncientScottish Melodies, p. 219) fixes at the beginning of the seventeenth century, but which includes, according to Mr. Chappell, an English country dance that first appeared in 1698 (Popular Music of theOlden Time, vol. ii. p. 770).

Burns wrote his song—

"John Anderson my jo JohnWhen we were first acquent,"

to the old tune, for Johnson'sMusical Museum.]

Woman.

John Anderson my jo, cum in as ye gae bye,And ye sall get a sheips heid weel baken in a pye;Weel baken in a pye, and the haggis in a pat:John Anderson my jo, cum in, and ye's get that.

Man.

And how doe ye, Cummer?[520]and how hae ye threven?And how mony bairns hae ye?Wom.Cummer, I hae seven.Man.Are they to your awin gude man?Wom.Na, Cummer, na;For five of tham were gotten, quhan he was awa.'

FOOTNOTES:[519]See alsoBiograph. Britan.1st edit. vol. i. p. 177.[520][gossip.]

[519]See alsoBiograph. Britan.1st edit. vol. i. p. 177.

[520][gossip.]

Wehave here a witty libel on the Reformation under king Edward VI. written about the year 1550, and preserved in the Pepys collection, British Museum, and Strype'sMem. of Cranmer. The author artfully declines entering into the merits of the cause, and wholly reflects on the lives and actions of many of the Reformed. It is so easy to find flaws and imperfections in the conduct of men, even the best of them, and still easier to make general exclamations about the profligacy of the present times, that no great point is gained by arguments of that sort, unless the author could have proved that the principles of the Reformed Religion had a natural tendency to produce a corruption of manners: whereas he indirectly owns, that theirreverend father[archbishop Cranmer] had used the most proper means to stem the torrent, by giving the people access to the Scriptures, by teaching them to pray with understanding, and by publishing homilies, and other religious tracts. It must however be acknowledged, that our libeller had at that time sufficient room for just satire. For under the banners of the Reformed had enlisted themselves, many concealed papists, who had private ends to gratify; many that were of no religion; many greedy courtiers, who thirsted after the possessions of the church; and many dissolute persons, who wanted to be exempt from all ecclesiastical censures. And as these men were loudest of all others in their cries for Reformation, so in effect, none obstructed the regular progress of it so much, or by their vicious lives broughtvexation and shame more on the truly venerable and pious Reformers.

The reader will remark the fondness of our satirist for alliteration: in this he was guilty of no affectation or singularity; his versification is that ofPierce Plowman's Visions, in which a recurrence of similar letters is essential: to this he has only superadded rhyme, which in his time began to be the general practice. See anEssayon this very peculiar kind of metre, in the appendix to this Volume.

In december, when the dayes draw to be short,After november, when the nights wax noysome and long;As I past by a place privily at a port,I saw one sit by himself making a song:His last[521]talk of trifles, who told with his tongueThat few were fast i'th' faith. I 'freyned'[522]that freake,[523]Whether he wanted wit, or some had done him wrong.He said, he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake.John Nobody, quoth I, what news? thou soon note and tellWhat maner men thou meane, thou are so mad.He said, These gay gallants, that wil construe the gospel,As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad;To discusse divinity they nought adread;More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke.[524]Thou lyest, quoth I, thou losel,[525]like a leud lad.He said, he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake.Its meet for every man on this matter to talk,And the glorious gospel ghostly to have in mind;It is sothe said, that sect but much unseemly skalk,As boyes babble in books, that in scripture are blind:Yet to their fancy soon a cause will find;As to live in lust, in lechery to leyke:[526]Such caitives count to be come of Cains kind;[527]But that I little John Nobody durst not speake.For our reverend father hath set forth an order,Our service to be said in our seignours tongue;As Solomon the sage set forth the scripture;Our suffrages, and services, with many a sweet song,With homilies, and godly books us among,That no stiff, stubborn stomacks we should freyke:[528]But wretches nere worse to do poor men wrong;But that I little John Nobody dare not speake.For bribery was never so great, since born was our Lord,And whoredom was never les hated, sith Christ harrowed[529]hel,And poor men are so sore punished commonly through the world,That it would grieve any one, that good is, to hear tel.For al the homilies and good books, yet their hearts be so quel,[530]That if a man do amisse, with mischiefs they wil him wreake;[531]The fashion of these new fellows it is so vile and fell:But that I little John Nobody dare not speake.Thus to live after their lust, that life would they have,And in lechery to leyke al their long life;For al the preaching of Paul, yet many a proud knaveWil move mischiefe in their mind both to maid and wifeTo bring them in advoutry,[532]or else they wil strife,And in brawling about baudery, Gods commandments breake:But of these frantic il fellowes, few of them do thrife;Though I little John Nobody dare not speake.If thou company with them, they wil currishly carp,[533]and not careAccording to their foolish fantacy; but fast wil they naught:Prayer with them is but prating; therefore they it forbear:Both almes deeds, and holiness, they hate it in their thought:Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud us bought,That he wil mend that is amiss: for many a manful freyke[534]Is sorry for these sects, though they say little or nought;And that I little John Nobody dare not once speake.Thus inNOplace, thisNobody, inNOtime I met,WhereNOman, 'ne'[535]NOUGHTwas, norNOTHINGdid appear;Through the sound of a synagogue for sorrow I swett,That 'Aeolus'[536]through the eccho did cause me to hear.Then I drew me down into a dale, whereas the dumb deerDid shiver for a shower; but I shunted[537]from a freyke:For I would no wight in this world wist who I were,But little John Nobody, that dare not once speake.

John Nobody, quoth I, what news? thou soon note and tellWhat maner men thou meane, thou are so mad.He said, These gay gallants, that wil construe the gospel,As Solomon the sage, with semblance full sad;To discusse divinity they nought adread;More meet it were for them to milk kye at a fleyke.[524]Thou lyest, quoth I, thou losel,[525]like a leud lad.He said, he was little John Nobody, that durst not speake.

Its meet for every man on this matter to talk,And the glorious gospel ghostly to have in mind;It is sothe said, that sect but much unseemly skalk,As boyes babble in books, that in scripture are blind:Yet to their fancy soon a cause will find;As to live in lust, in lechery to leyke:[526]Such caitives count to be come of Cains kind;[527]But that I little John Nobody durst not speake.

For our reverend father hath set forth an order,Our service to be said in our seignours tongue;As Solomon the sage set forth the scripture;Our suffrages, and services, with many a sweet song,With homilies, and godly books us among,That no stiff, stubborn stomacks we should freyke:[528]But wretches nere worse to do poor men wrong;But that I little John Nobody dare not speake.

For bribery was never so great, since born was our Lord,And whoredom was never les hated, sith Christ harrowed[529]hel,And poor men are so sore punished commonly through the world,That it would grieve any one, that good is, to hear tel.For al the homilies and good books, yet their hearts be so quel,[530]That if a man do amisse, with mischiefs they wil him wreake;[531]The fashion of these new fellows it is so vile and fell:But that I little John Nobody dare not speake.

Thus to live after their lust, that life would they have,And in lechery to leyke al their long life;For al the preaching of Paul, yet many a proud knaveWil move mischiefe in their mind both to maid and wifeTo bring them in advoutry,[532]or else they wil strife,And in brawling about baudery, Gods commandments breake:But of these frantic il fellowes, few of them do thrife;Though I little John Nobody dare not speake.

If thou company with them, they wil currishly carp,[533]and not careAccording to their foolish fantacy; but fast wil they naught:Prayer with them is but prating; therefore they it forbear:Both almes deeds, and holiness, they hate it in their thought:Therefore pray we to that prince, that with his bloud us bought,That he wil mend that is amiss: for many a manful freyke[534]Is sorry for these sects, though they say little or nought;And that I little John Nobody dare not once speake.

Thus inNOplace, thisNobody, inNOtime I met,WhereNOman, 'ne'[535]NOUGHTwas, norNOTHINGdid appear;Through the sound of a synagogue for sorrow I swett,That 'Aeolus'[536]through the eccho did cause me to hear.Then I drew me down into a dale, whereas the dumb deerDid shiver for a shower; but I shunted[537]from a freyke:For I would no wight in this world wist who I were,But little John Nobody, that dare not once speake.

FOOTNOTES:[521]Perhaps "he left talk."[522]feyned, MSS. andPC.[523][asked that man.][524][cows at a hurdle.][525][worthless fellow.][526][play.][527][Ver. 3.Cain's kind.]. So inPierce the Plowman's Creed, the proud friars are said to be"Of Caymes kind."—Vid.Sig. C ii.b.[528][humour.][529][harassed.][530][cruel.][531][pursue revengefully.][532][adultery.][533][censure.][534][strong man.][535]then, MSS. andPC.[536]Hercules, MSS. andPC.[537][shunned.]

[521]Perhaps "he left talk."

[522]feyned, MSS. andPC.

[523][asked that man.]

[524][cows at a hurdle.]

[525][worthless fellow.]

[526][play.]

[527][Ver. 3.Cain's kind.]. So inPierce the Plowman's Creed, the proud friars are said to be"Of Caymes kind."—Vid.Sig. C ii.b.

[527][Ver. 3.Cain's kind.]. So inPierce the Plowman's Creed, the proud friars are said to be

"Of Caymes kind."—Vid.Sig. C ii.b.

[528][humour.]

[529][harassed.]

[530][cruel.]

[531][pursue revengefully.]

[532][adultery.]

[533][censure.]

[534][strong man.]

[535]then, MSS. andPC.

[536]Hercules, MSS. andPC.

[537][shunned.]

Writ with Charcoal on a Shutter,

Arepreserved by Hentzner, in that part of hisTravelswhich has been reprinted in so elegant a manner at Strawberry-hill. In Hentzner's book they were wretchedly corrupted, but are here given as amended by his ingenious editor. The old orthography, and one or two ancient readings of Hentzner's copy, are here restored.

Oh, Fortune! how thy restlesse wavering stateHath fraught with cares my troubled witt!Witnes this present prisonn, whither fateCould beare me, and the joys I quit.[538]Thou causedest the guiltie to be losed5From bandes, wherein are innocents inclosed:Causing the guiltles to be straite reserved,And freeing those that death had well deserved.But by her envie can be nothing wroughte,So God send to my foes all they have thoughte.10

A.D. MDLV.Elizabethe, Prisonner.

FOOTNOTES:[538]Ver. 4. "Could beare," is an ancient idiom, equivalent to "did bear" or "hath borne." See below theBeggar of Bednal Green, Book 2, No. x. v. 57. "Could say."

[538]Ver. 4. "Could beare," is an ancient idiom, equivalent to "did bear" or "hath borne." See below theBeggar of Bednal Green, Book 2, No. x. v. 57. "Could say."

Theoriginal of this ballad is found in the Editor's folio MS., the breaches and defects in which rendered the insertion of supplemental stanzas necessary. These, it is hoped, the reader will pardon, as indeed the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on a similar subject.

From the Scottish phrases here and there discernible in this poem, it should seem to have been originally composed beyond the Tweed.

The Heir of Linne appears not to have been a Lord of Parliament, but a Laird, whose title went along with his estate.

[In the folio MS. Percy wrote the following note: "This old copy (tho' a very indifferent fragment) I thought deserving of some attention. I have therefore bestowed an entire revisal of the subject for myReliques, &c." In this revisal, the Bishop swelled out the 125 lines of the original into the 216 of his own version. It has, therefore, been necessary to print a copy of the original at the end of the present ballad. The modern ballad referred to above is theDrunkard's Legacy, printed in J. H. Dixon'sBalladsof the Peasantry, but it is only comparatively modern, as it dates back to a period long before Percy's time. The portion which Percy interpolated and took from this ballad, forms the end of the first part and beginning of the second part of the following version.The incident by which the hidden treasure is discovered occurs in one of the stories of Cinthio'sHeccatomithi(Dec. ix. Nov. 8), but the arguments of the two tales are in other respects different.The Scotch claim this ballad as their own. Some suppose the hero to have been an Ayrshire laird, and others that he was from Galloway. Motherwell gives the following verses as the commencement of the traditionary version extant in Scotland:

The incident by which the hidden treasure is discovered occurs in one of the stories of Cinthio'sHeccatomithi(Dec. ix. Nov. 8), but the arguments of the two tales are in other respects different.The Scotch claim this ballad as their own. Some suppose the hero to have been an Ayrshire laird, and others that he was from Galloway. Motherwell gives the following verses as the commencement of the traditionary version extant in Scotland:

"The bonnie heir, the weel-faur'd heir,And the weary heir o' Linne,Yonder he stands at his father's gate,And naebody bids him come in,O see whare he gaup and see whare he stands,The weary heir o' Linne,O see whare he stands on the cauld causey,Some ane wuld ta'en him in.But if he had been his father's heir,Or yet the heir o' Linne,He wadna stand on the cauld causey,Some ane wuld ta'en him in."]

Part the First.

Lithe[539]and listen, gentlemen,To sing a song I will beginne:It is of a lord of faire Scotlànd,Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.His father was a right good lord,5His mother a lady of high degree;But they, alas! were dead, him froe,And he lov'd keeping companie.To spend the daye with merry cheare,To drinke and revell every night,10To card and dice from eve to morne,It was, I ween, his hearts delighteTo ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,To alwaye spend and never spare,I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,15Of gold and fee he mote be bare.Soe fares the unthrifty lord of LinneTill all his gold is gone and spent;And he maun sell his landes so broad,His house, and landes, and all his rent.20His father had a keen stewàrde,And John o' the Scales was called hee:But John is become a gentel-man,And John has gott both gold and fee.[540]Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,25Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,Good store of gold Ile give thee heere.My gold is gone, my money is spent;My lande nowe take it unto the:30Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,And thine for aye my lande shall bee.Then John he did him to record draw,And John he cast him a gods-pennie;[541]But for every pounde that John agreed,35The lande, I wis, was well worth three.He told him the gold upon the borde,He was right glad his land to winne:The gold is thine, the land is mine,And now Ile be the lord of Linne.40Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,Both hill and holt,[542]and moore and fenne,All but a poore and lonesome lodge,That stood far off in a lonely glenne.For soe he to his father hight.45My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee,Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad,And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:But sweare me nowe upon the roode,That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;50For when all the world doth frown on thee,Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.The heire of Linne is full of golde:And come with me, my friends, sayd hee,Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,55And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.They ranted, drank, and merry made,Till all his gold it waxed thinne;And then his friendes they slunk away;They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.60He had never a penny left in his purse,Never a penny left but three,And one was brass, another was lead,[543]And another it was white monèy.[543]Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,[543]65Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,For when I was the lord of Linne,I never wanted gold nor fee.But many a trustye friend have I,And why shold I feel dole or care?70Ile borrow of them all by turnes,Soe need I not be never bare.But one, I wis, was not at home;Another had payd his gold away;Another call'd him thriftless loone,75And bade him sharpely wend his way.Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,Now well-aday, and woe is me!For when I had my landes so broad,On me they liv'd right merrilee.80To beg my bread from door to doorI wis, it were a brenning shame:To rob and steal it were a sinne:To worke my limbs I cannot frame.Now Ile away to lonesome lodge,85For there my father bade me wend;When all the world should frown on mee,I there shold find a trusty friend.

Lithe[539]and listen, gentlemen,To sing a song I will beginne:It is of a lord of faire Scotlànd,Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.

His father was a right good lord,5His mother a lady of high degree;But they, alas! were dead, him froe,And he lov'd keeping companie.

To spend the daye with merry cheare,To drinke and revell every night,10To card and dice from eve to morne,It was, I ween, his hearts delighte

To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,To alwaye spend and never spare,I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,15Of gold and fee he mote be bare.

Soe fares the unthrifty lord of LinneTill all his gold is gone and spent;And he maun sell his landes so broad,His house, and landes, and all his rent.20

His father had a keen stewàrde,And John o' the Scales was called hee:But John is become a gentel-man,And John has gott both gold and fee.[540]

Sayes, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,25Let nought disturb thy merry cheere;Iff thou wilt sell thy landes soe broad,Good store of gold Ile give thee heere.

My gold is gone, my money is spent;My lande nowe take it unto the:30Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,And thine for aye my lande shall bee.

Then John he did him to record draw,And John he cast him a gods-pennie;[541]But for every pounde that John agreed,35The lande, I wis, was well worth three.

He told him the gold upon the borde,He was right glad his land to winne:The gold is thine, the land is mine,And now Ile be the lord of Linne.40

Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,Both hill and holt,[542]and moore and fenne,All but a poore and lonesome lodge,That stood far off in a lonely glenne.

For soe he to his father hight.45My sonne, when I am gonne, sayd hee,Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad,And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:

But sweare me nowe upon the roode,That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend;50For when all the world doth frown on thee,Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.

The heire of Linne is full of golde:And come with me, my friends, sayd hee,Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,55And he that spares, ne'er mote he thee.

They ranted, drank, and merry made,Till all his gold it waxed thinne;And then his friendes they slunk away;They left the unthrifty heire of Linne.60

He had never a penny left in his purse,Never a penny left but three,And one was brass, another was lead,[543]And another it was white monèy.[543]

Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,[543]65Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,For when I was the lord of Linne,I never wanted gold nor fee.

But many a trustye friend have I,And why shold I feel dole or care?70Ile borrow of them all by turnes,Soe need I not be never bare.

But one, I wis, was not at home;Another had payd his gold away;Another call'd him thriftless loone,75And bade him sharpely wend his way.

Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,Now well-aday, and woe is me!For when I had my landes so broad,On me they liv'd right merrilee.80

To beg my bread from door to doorI wis, it were a brenning shame:To rob and steal it were a sinne:To worke my limbs I cannot frame.

Now Ile away to lonesome lodge,85For there my father bade me wend;When all the world should frown on mee,I there shold find a trusty friend.

Part the Second.

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