FOOTNOTES:[328][burnt.][329][leper.][330]He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power of touching for the king's evil.[331][truth.][332][loathsome.][333][complexion.][334][burst.][335][dreams.][336][griffin.][337][neckerchief.][338][petticoat.][339][tooth.][340]Ver. 77. see below, v. 137.[341][if.][342][immediately.][343][vow or oath.][344][evil.][345][help.][346][defend.][347][supposed.][348][to give the sacrament and to confess.]
[328][burnt.]
[328][burnt.]
[329][leper.]
[329][leper.]
[330]He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power of touching for the king's evil.
[330]He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power of touching for the king's evil.
[331][truth.]
[331][truth.]
[332][loathsome.]
[332][loathsome.]
[333][complexion.]
[333][complexion.]
[334][burst.]
[334][burst.]
[335][dreams.]
[335][dreams.]
[336][griffin.]
[336][griffin.]
[337][neckerchief.]
[337][neckerchief.]
[338][petticoat.]
[338][petticoat.]
[339][tooth.]
[339][tooth.]
[340]Ver. 77. see below, v. 137.
[340]Ver. 77. see below, v. 137.
[341][if.]
[341][if.]
[342][immediately.]
[342][immediately.]
[343][vow or oath.]
[343][vow or oath.]
[344][evil.]
[344][evil.]
[345][help.]
[345][help.]
[346][defend.]
[346][defend.]
[347][supposed.]
[347][supposed.]
[348][to give the sacrament and to confess.]
[348][to give the sacrament and to confess.]
A Scottish Song.
Traditioninforms us that the author of this song was King James V. of Scotland. This prince (whose character for wit and libertinism bears a great resemblance to that of his gay successor, Charles II.) was noted for strolling about his dominions in disguise,[349]and for his frequent gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of this kind he hath celebrated with his own pen, viz. in this ballad ofThe GaberlunyieMan; and in another intitledThe Jolly Beggar, beginning thus:
"Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boun,And he tuik up his quarters into a land'art toun.Fa, la, la," &c.
"Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boun,And he tuik up his quarters into a land'art toun.Fa, la, la," &c.
It seems to be the latter of these ballads (which was too licentious to be admitted into this collection) that is meant in theCatalogue of Royal and Noble Authors,[350]where the ingenious writer remarks, that "there is something very ludicrous in the young woman's distress when she thought her first favour had been thrown away upon a beggar."
Bishop Tanner has attributed to James V. the celebrated ballad ofChrist's Kirk on the Green, which is ascribed to King James I. in Bannatyne's MS. written in 1568: and, notwithstanding thatauthority, the editor of this book is of opinion that Bishop Tanner was right.
King James V. died Dec. 13th, 1542, aged 33.
[James V. was called theKing of the Commons, from his popular manners and vagrant habit, and many stories are told of his adventures when in disguise. One of these is worth relating here. On a certain occasion he heard himself abused by a country lad as a tyrant and a man odious in every respect, until, unable to restrain himself, he threw off his disguise, and told his accuser that he was the king. "Are you really the king?" said the lad, retaining his self-possession; "weel, ye'll maybe hae heard o' my father: he gaed daft three days regularly every year, and in a' that time spoke naething but lies and nonsense: now I'm exactly the same way, and this isone of my three days." There is no authority for attributing the present song to James V., except ancient and universal tradition. The wordgaberlunyieis compounded ofgaber, a wallet, andlunyie, the loins: hence a travelling tinker or beggar carrying a wallet by his side, was called a "gaberlunyie man." Scott has sketched a vivid portrait of one of these privileged beggars in hisAntiquary, Edie Ochiltree, to wit. TheJolly Beggaris printed in Herd'sScottish Songs, ii. 164, and in Ritson'sScottishSongs, i. 168. Competent authorities are not willing to take the credit of the authorship ofChrist's Kirk on the Greenfrom James I. and give it to James V.]
[James V. was called theKing of the Commons, from his popular manners and vagrant habit, and many stories are told of his adventures when in disguise. One of these is worth relating here. On a certain occasion he heard himself abused by a country lad as a tyrant and a man odious in every respect, until, unable to restrain himself, he threw off his disguise, and told his accuser that he was the king. "Are you really the king?" said the lad, retaining his self-possession; "weel, ye'll maybe hae heard o' my father: he gaed daft three days regularly every year, and in a' that time spoke naething but lies and nonsense: now I'm exactly the same way, and this isone of my three days." There is no authority for attributing the present song to James V., except ancient and universal tradition. The wordgaberlunyieis compounded ofgaber, a wallet, andlunyie, the loins: hence a travelling tinker or beggar carrying a wallet by his side, was called a "gaberlunyie man." Scott has sketched a vivid portrait of one of these privileged beggars in hisAntiquary, Edie Ochiltree, to wit. TheJolly Beggaris printed in Herd'sScottish Songs, ii. 164, and in Ritson'sScottishSongs, i. 168. Competent authorities are not willing to take the credit of the authorship ofChrist's Kirk on the Greenfrom James I. and give it to James V.]
The pauky auld Carle[351]came ovir the leeWi' mony good-eens and days to mee,Saying, Goodwife, for your courtesie,Will ye lodge a silly[352]poor man?The night was cauld, the carle was wat,5And down ayont the ingle[353]he sat;My dochters shoulders he gan to clap,And cadgily[354]ranted and sang.O wow![355]quo he, were I as free,As first when I saw this countrie,10How blyth and merry wad I bee!And I wad nevir think lang.He grew canty,[356]and she grew fain;[357]But little did her auld minny ken[358]What thir slee twa[359]togither were say'n,15When wooing they were sa thrang.[360]And O! quo he, ann ye were as black,As evir the crown of your dadyes hat,Tis I wad lay thee by my back,And awa wi' me thou sould gang.20And O! quoth she, ann I were as white,As evir the snaw lay on the dike,Ild clead me braw,[361]and lady-like,And awa with thee Ild gang.Between the twa was made a plot;25They raise a wee before the cock,And wyliely they shot the lock,And fast to the bent are they gane.Up the morn the auld wife raise,[362]And at her leisure put on her claiths,30Syne to the servants bed she gaesTo speir for the silly poor man.She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay,The strae was cauld, he was away,She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day!35For some of our geir will be gane.Some ran to coffer, and some to kist,[363]But nought was stown[364]that could be mist.She dancid her lane,[365]cryd, Praise be blest,I have lodgd a leal poor man.40Since naithings awa, as we can learn,The kirns to kirn,[366]and milk to earn,Gae butt the house,[367]lass, and waken my bairn,And bid her come quickly ben.[368]The servant gaed where the dochter lay,45The sheets was cauld, she was away,And fast to her goodwife can say,Shes aff with the gaberlunyie-man.O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,And hast ye, find these traitors agen;50For shees be burnt, and hees be slein,The wearyfou[369]gaberlunyie-man.Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit,The wife was wood,[370]and out o' her wit;She could na gang, nor yet could she sit,55But ay did curse and did ban.Mean time far hind out owre the lee,For snug in a glen, where nane could see,The twa, with kindlie sport and glee,Cut frae a new cheese a whang.[371]60The priving[372]was gude, it pleas'd them baith,To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith.Quo she, to leave thee, I will be laith,My winsome gaberlunyie-man.O kend my minny I were wi' you,65Illfardly[373]wad she crook her mou,[374]Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow,Aftir the gaberlunyie-mon.My dear, quo he, yee're yet owre yonge;And hae na learnt the beggars tonge,70To follow me frae toun to toun,And carrie the gaberlunyie on.Wi' kauk and keel,[375]Ill win your bread,And spindles and whorles[376]for them wha need,Whilk is a gentil trade indeed75The gaberlunyie to carrie—o.Ill bow my leg and crook my knee,And draw a black clout owre my ee,A criple or blind they will cau me:While we sail sing and be merrie—o.80
The pauky auld Carle[351]came ovir the leeWi' mony good-eens and days to mee,Saying, Goodwife, for your courtesie,Will ye lodge a silly[352]poor man?The night was cauld, the carle was wat,5And down ayont the ingle[353]he sat;My dochters shoulders he gan to clap,And cadgily[354]ranted and sang.
O wow![355]quo he, were I as free,As first when I saw this countrie,10How blyth and merry wad I bee!And I wad nevir think lang.He grew canty,[356]and she grew fain;[357]But little did her auld minny ken[358]What thir slee twa[359]togither were say'n,15When wooing they were sa thrang.[360]
And O! quo he, ann ye were as black,As evir the crown of your dadyes hat,Tis I wad lay thee by my back,And awa wi' me thou sould gang.20And O! quoth she, ann I were as white,As evir the snaw lay on the dike,Ild clead me braw,[361]and lady-like,And awa with thee Ild gang.
Between the twa was made a plot;25They raise a wee before the cock,And wyliely they shot the lock,And fast to the bent are they gane.Up the morn the auld wife raise,[362]And at her leisure put on her claiths,30Syne to the servants bed she gaesTo speir for the silly poor man.
She gaed to the bed, whair the beggar lay,The strae was cauld, he was away,She clapt her hands, cryd, Dulefu' day!35For some of our geir will be gane.Some ran to coffer, and some to kist,[363]But nought was stown[364]that could be mist.She dancid her lane,[365]cryd, Praise be blest,I have lodgd a leal poor man.40
Since naithings awa, as we can learn,The kirns to kirn,[366]and milk to earn,Gae butt the house,[367]lass, and waken my bairn,And bid her come quickly ben.[368]The servant gaed where the dochter lay,45The sheets was cauld, she was away,And fast to her goodwife can say,Shes aff with the gaberlunyie-man.
O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,And hast ye, find these traitors agen;50For shees be burnt, and hees be slein,The wearyfou[369]gaberlunyie-man.Some rade upo horse, some ran a fit,The wife was wood,[370]and out o' her wit;She could na gang, nor yet could she sit,55But ay did curse and did ban.
Mean time far hind out owre the lee,For snug in a glen, where nane could see,The twa, with kindlie sport and glee,Cut frae a new cheese a whang.[371]60The priving[372]was gude, it pleas'd them baith,To lo'e her for ay, he gae her his aith.Quo she, to leave thee, I will be laith,My winsome gaberlunyie-man.
O kend my minny I were wi' you,65Illfardly[373]wad she crook her mou,[374]Sic a poor man sheld nevir trow,Aftir the gaberlunyie-mon.My dear, quo he, yee're yet owre yonge;And hae na learnt the beggars tonge,70To follow me frae toun to toun,And carrie the gaberlunyie on.
Wi' kauk and keel,[375]Ill win your bread,And spindles and whorles[376]for them wha need,Whilk is a gentil trade indeed75The gaberlunyie to carrie—o.Ill bow my leg and crook my knee,And draw a black clout owre my ee,A criple or blind they will cau me:While we sail sing and be merrie—o.80
FOOTNOTES:[349]Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's daughter at Niddry, near Edinburgh.[350]Vol. ii. p. 203.[351][sly old man.][352][simple or poor.][353][beyond the fire.][354][merrily.][355][exclamation of admiration or surprise.][356][merry.][357][fond.][358][mother know.][359][these sly two.][360][so close.][361][clad me handsomely.][362]Ver. 29. The carline, other copies.[363][chest.][364][stolen.][365][alone by herself.][366][churns to churn.][367][go to the outer apartment.][368][in.][369][troublesome.][370][mad.][371][slice.][372][proof.][373][ill-favouredly.][374][mouth.][375][chalk and ruddle.][376][instruments used for spinning in Scotland.]
[349]Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's daughter at Niddry, near Edinburgh.
[349]Sc. of a tinker, beggar, &c. Thus he used to visit a smith's daughter at Niddry, near Edinburgh.
[350]Vol. ii. p. 203.
[350]Vol. ii. p. 203.
[351][sly old man.]
[351][sly old man.]
[352][simple or poor.]
[352][simple or poor.]
[353][beyond the fire.]
[353][beyond the fire.]
[354][merrily.]
[354][merrily.]
[355][exclamation of admiration or surprise.]
[355][exclamation of admiration or surprise.]
[356][merry.]
[356][merry.]
[357][fond.]
[357][fond.]
[358][mother know.]
[358][mother know.]
[359][these sly two.]
[359][these sly two.]
[360][so close.]
[360][so close.]
[361][clad me handsomely.]
[361][clad me handsomely.]
[362]Ver. 29. The carline, other copies.
[362]Ver. 29. The carline, other copies.
[363][chest.]
[363][chest.]
[364][stolen.]
[364][stolen.]
[365][alone by herself.]
[365][alone by herself.]
[366][churns to churn.]
[366][churns to churn.]
[367][go to the outer apartment.]
[367][go to the outer apartment.]
[368][in.]
[368][in.]
[369][troublesome.]
[369][troublesome.]
[370][mad.]
[370][mad.]
[371][slice.]
[371][slice.]
[372][proof.]
[372][proof.]
[373][ill-favouredly.]
[373][ill-favouredly.]
[374][mouth.]
[374][mouth.]
[375][chalk and ruddle.]
[375][chalk and ruddle.]
[376][instruments used for spinning in Scotland.]
[376][instruments used for spinning in Scotland.]
Itis ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the latter the giddy inconstant multitude. We have here a spurn at fallen greatness from one of the angry partisans of declining popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diana and loss of their craft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of Cromwell's commitment to the Tower, June 10th, 1540, and that of his being beheaded, July 28 following. A short interval! but Henry's passion for Catharine Howard would admit of no delay. Notwithstanding our libeller, Cromwell had many excellent qualities; his great fault was too much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master; but let it be considered that this master had raised him from obscurity, and that the high-born nobility had shewn him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance. The original copy, printed at London in 1540, is intitled,A neweballade made of Thomas Crumwel, called"Trolle on away." To it is prefixed this distich by way of burthen:
"Trolle on away, trolle on awaye.Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away."
"Trolle on away, trolle on awaye.Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away."
The following piece gave rise to a poetic controversy, which was carried on thro' a succession of seven or eight ballads, written for and against Lord Cromwell. These are all preserved in the archives of the Antiquarian Society, in a large folio collection of proclamations, &c., made in the reigns of King Henry VIII., King Edward VI., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, King James I., &c.
[Thomas Cromwell, calledMalleus Monachorum, came of a good old Lincolnshire family. He was born about the year 1490 at Putney, where his father carried on the business of an iron-founder, which his enemies reduced to that of a blacksmith. His father died early, and in consequence of the re-marriage of his mother, he became a wanderer.The author of the poor play, entitledThe Life and Death ofThomas Lord Cromwell, which has been absurdly attributed to Shakspere, makes "old Cromwell, a blacksmith, of Putney," live to see his son "made lord keeper."There is a fragment of a ballad on Cromwell without any beginning in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 127), which ends as follows:
[Thomas Cromwell, calledMalleus Monachorum, came of a good old Lincolnshire family. He was born about the year 1490 at Putney, where his father carried on the business of an iron-founder, which his enemies reduced to that of a blacksmith. His father died early, and in consequence of the re-marriage of his mother, he became a wanderer.
The author of the poor play, entitledThe Life and Death ofThomas Lord Cromwell, which has been absurdly attributed to Shakspere, makes "old Cromwell, a blacksmith, of Putney," live to see his son "made lord keeper."
There is a fragment of a ballad on Cromwell without any beginning in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 127), which ends as follows:
"How now? How now? the king did say,Thomas how is it with thee?Hanging and drawing O King! he saide;You shall never gett more from me."
"How now? How now? the king did say,Thomas how is it with thee?Hanging and drawing O King! he saide;You shall never gett more from me."
Mr. Hales points out a coincidence not mentioned by Mr. Froude, viz. that the minister was beheaded and the king married to Catherine Howard on one and the same day. In 1525 Cromwell undertook for Wolsey the work of visiting and breaking up the small monasteries which the Pope had granted for the foundation of Wolsey's new colleges, thus commencing the work which gained him the enmity of the adherents of the old faith. He was the first to cause Bibles in the English language to be deposited in all the churches, and to him we owe the institution of parish registers.]
Mr. Hales points out a coincidence not mentioned by Mr. Froude, viz. that the minister was beheaded and the king married to Catherine Howard on one and the same day. In 1525 Cromwell undertook for Wolsey the work of visiting and breaking up the small monasteries which the Pope had granted for the foundation of Wolsey's new colleges, thus commencing the work which gained him the enmity of the adherents of the old faith. He was the first to cause Bibles in the English language to be deposited in all the churches, and to him we owe the institution of parish registers.]
Both man and chylde is glad to here tellOf that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell,Now that he is set to learne to spell.Synge trolle on away.When fortune lokyd the in thy face,Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace;5Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace.Synge, &c.Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst,Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst,Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst.Synge, &c.Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes,10Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes,Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes.Synge, &c.Fyrste when kynge Henry, God saue his grace!Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face,Then it was tyme to purchase the a place.15Synge, &c.Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature,Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture;But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure.Synge, &c.Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke,One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke,20For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke.Synge, &c.Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre;But euer was full of iniquite:Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the.Synge, &c.All they, that were of the new trycke,25Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke;Wherfore nowe thou haste touchyd the quycke.Synge, &c.Bothe sacramentes and sacramentallesThou woldyst not suffre within thy walles;Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules.30Synge, &c.Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell,Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell,[377]Or else sent vs frome the deuyll of hell.Synge, &c.Thou woldest neuer to vertue applye,But couetyd euer to clymme to hye,35And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye.Synge, &c.Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose;Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose,Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose.Synge, &c.Thou myghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke40Upon thy gresy fullers stocke;[378]Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke.Yet saue that soule, that God hath bought,And for thy carcas care thou nought,Let it suffre payne, as it hath wrought.45Synge, &c.God saue kyng Henry with all his power,And prynce Edwarde that goodly flowre,With al hys lordes of great honoure.Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away.Hevye and how rombelowe[379]trolle on awaye.50
Both man and chylde is glad to here tellOf that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell,Now that he is set to learne to spell.Synge trolle on away.
When fortune lokyd the in thy face,Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace;5Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace.Synge, &c.
Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst,Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst,Tyll in the kynges treasoure suche thinges were myst.Synge, &c.
Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes,10Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes,Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes.Synge, &c.
Fyrste when kynge Henry, God saue his grace!Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face,Then it was tyme to purchase the a place.15Synge, &c.
Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature,Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture;But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure.Synge, &c.
Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke,One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke,20For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke.Synge, &c.
Thou woldyst not learne to knowe these thre;But euer was full of iniquite:Wherfore all this lande hathe ben troubled with the.Synge, &c.
All they, that were of the new trycke,25Agaynst the churche thou baddest them stycke;Wherfore nowe thou haste touchyd the quycke.Synge, &c.
Bothe sacramentes and sacramentallesThou woldyst not suffre within thy walles;Nor let vs praye for all chrysten soules.30Synge, &c.
Of what generacyon thou were no tonge can tell,Whyther of Chayme, or Syschemell,[377]Or else sent vs frome the deuyll of hell.Synge, &c.
Thou woldest neuer to vertue applye,But couetyd euer to clymme to hye,35And nowe haste thou trodden thy shoo awrye.Synge, &c.
Who-so-euer dyd winne thou wolde not lose;Wherfore all Englande doth hate the, as I suppose,Bycause thou wast false to the redolent rose.Synge, &c.
Thou myghtest have learned thy cloth to flocke40Upon thy gresy fullers stocke;[378]Wherfore lay downe thy heade vpon this blocke.
Yet saue that soule, that God hath bought,And for thy carcas care thou nought,Let it suffre payne, as it hath wrought.45Synge, &c.
God saue kyng Henry with all his power,And prynce Edwarde that goodly flowre,With al hys lordes of great honoure.Synge trolle on awaye, syng trolle on away.Hevye and how rombelowe[379]trolle on awaye.50
FOOTNOTES:[377]Ver. 32.i.e.Cain, or Ishmael. See below, the note, book ii. No. III. stanza 3rd.[378]V. 41. Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a blacksmith at Putney: but the author of this ballad would insinuate that either he himself or some of his ancestors were fullers by trade.[379][The burden of an old song.]
[377]Ver. 32.i.e.Cain, or Ishmael. See below, the note, book ii. No. III. stanza 3rd.
[377]Ver. 32.i.e.Cain, or Ishmael. See below, the note, book ii. No. III. stanza 3rd.
[378]V. 41. Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a blacksmith at Putney: but the author of this ballad would insinuate that either he himself or some of his ancestors were fullers by trade.
[378]V. 41. Cromwell's father is generally said to have been a blacksmith at Putney: but the author of this ballad would insinuate that either he himself or some of his ancestors were fullers by trade.
[379][The burden of an old song.]
[379][The burden of an old song.]
An Ancient English Pastoral.
Thisbeautiful poem, which is perhaps the first attempt at pastoral writing in our language, is preserved among theSongs and Sonnettesof the Earl of Surrey, &c., 4to. in that part of the collection which consists of pieces byuncertain auctours. These poems were first published in 1557, ten years after that accomplished nobleman fell a victim to the tyranny of Henry VIII.; but it is presumed most of them were composed before the death of Sir Thomas Wyatt in 1541. See Surrey's Poems, 4to. fol. 19, 49.
Tho' written perhaps near half a century before theShepherd'sCalendar,[380]this will be found far superior to any of those eclogues, in natural unaffected sentiments, in simplicity of style, in easy flow of versification, and all other beauties of pastoral poetry. Spenser ought to have profited more by so excellent a model.
[Warton describes this poem as "perhaps the first example in our language now remaining of the pure and unmixed pastoral, and in the erotic species for ease of numbers, elegance of rural allusion excelling everything of the kind in Spenser, who is erroneously ranked as our earliest English bucolic." He did not, however, take into accountRobin and Makine, which followsHarpalusin this book, but was written more than half a century before it. Spenser-lovers also are not likely to agree with Percy's and Warton's summary judgments upon theShepherd's Calendar.]
[Warton describes this poem as "perhaps the first example in our language now remaining of the pure and unmixed pastoral, and in the erotic species for ease of numbers, elegance of rural allusion excelling everything of the kind in Spenser, who is erroneously ranked as our earliest English bucolic." He did not, however, take into accountRobin and Makine, which followsHarpalusin this book, but was written more than half a century before it. Spenser-lovers also are not likely to agree with Percy's and Warton's summary judgments upon theShepherd's Calendar.]
Phylida was a faire mayde,As fresh as any flowre;Whom Harpalus the herdman praydeTo be his paramour.Harpalus, and eke Corin,5Were herdmen both yfere:[381]And Phylida could twist and spinne,And thereto sing full clere.But Phylida was all tò coye,For Harpalus to winne:10For Corin was her onely joye,Who forst[382]her not a pinne.How often would she flowers twine?How often garlandes makeOf couslips and of colombine?15And al for Corin's sake.But Corin, he had haukes to lure,And forced more the field:[383]Of lovers lawe he toke no cure;For once he was begilde.20Harpalus prevailed nought,His labour all was lost;For he was fardest from her thought,And yet he loved her most.Therefore waxt he both pale and leane,25And drye as clot of clay:His fleshe it was consumed cleane;His colour gone away.His beard it had not long be shave;His heare hong all unkempt:30A man most fit even for the grave,Whom spitefull love had spent.His eyes were red and all 'forewacht;'[384][385]His face besprent with teares:It semde unhap had him long 'hatcht,'35In mids of his dispaires.His clothes were blacke, and also bare;As one forlorne was he;Upon his head alwayes he wareA wreath of wyllow tree.40His beastes he kept upon the hyll,And he sate in the dale;And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril,He gan to tell his tale.Oh Harpalus! (thus would he say)45Unhappiest under sunne!The cause of thine unhappy day,By love was first begunne.For thou wentest first by sute to seekeA tigre to make tame,50That settes not by thy love a leeke;But makes thy griefe her game.As easy it were for to convertThe frost into 'a' flame;As for to turne a frowarde hert,55Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.Corin he liveth carèlesse:He leapes among the leaves:He eates the frutes of thy redresse:[386]Thou 'reapst,' he takes the sheaves.60My beastes, a whyle your foode refraine,And harke your herdmans sounde:Whom spitefull love, alas! hath slaine,Through-girt[387]with many a wounde.O happy be ye, beastès wilde,65That here your pasture takes:I se that ye be not begildeOf these your faithfull makes.[388]The hart he feedeth by the hinde:The bucke harde by the do:70The turtle dove is not unkindeTo him that loves her so.The ewe she hath by her the ramme:The yong cow hath the bull:The calfe with many a lusty lambe75Do fede their hunger full.But, wel-away! that nature wroughtThe, Phylida, so faire:For I may say that I have boughtThy beauty all tò deare.80What reason is that crueltieWith beautie should have part?Or els that such great tyrannyShould dwell in womans hart?I see therefore to shape my death85She cruelly is prest;[389]To th'ende that I may want my breath:My dayes been at the best.O Cupide, graunt this my request,And do not stoppe thine eares;90That she may feele within her brestThe paines of my dispaires:Of Corin 'who' is carèlesse,That she may crave her fee:As I have done in great distresse,95That loved her faithfully.But since that I shal die her slave;Her slave, and eke her thrall:[390]Write you, my frendes, upon my graveThis chaunce that is befall.100"Here lieth unhappy HarpalusBy cruell love now slaine:Whom Phylida unjustly thusHath murdred with disdaine."
Phylida was a faire mayde,As fresh as any flowre;Whom Harpalus the herdman praydeTo be his paramour.
Harpalus, and eke Corin,5Were herdmen both yfere:[381]And Phylida could twist and spinne,And thereto sing full clere.
But Phylida was all tò coye,For Harpalus to winne:10For Corin was her onely joye,Who forst[382]her not a pinne.
How often would she flowers twine?How often garlandes makeOf couslips and of colombine?15And al for Corin's sake.
But Corin, he had haukes to lure,And forced more the field:[383]Of lovers lawe he toke no cure;For once he was begilde.20
Harpalus prevailed nought,His labour all was lost;For he was fardest from her thought,And yet he loved her most.
Therefore waxt he both pale and leane,25And drye as clot of clay:His fleshe it was consumed cleane;His colour gone away.
His beard it had not long be shave;His heare hong all unkempt:30A man most fit even for the grave,Whom spitefull love had spent.
His eyes were red and all 'forewacht;'[384][385]His face besprent with teares:It semde unhap had him long 'hatcht,'35In mids of his dispaires.
His clothes were blacke, and also bare;As one forlorne was he;Upon his head alwayes he wareA wreath of wyllow tree.40
His beastes he kept upon the hyll,And he sate in the dale;And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril,He gan to tell his tale.
Oh Harpalus! (thus would he say)45Unhappiest under sunne!The cause of thine unhappy day,By love was first begunne.
For thou wentest first by sute to seekeA tigre to make tame,50That settes not by thy love a leeke;But makes thy griefe her game.
As easy it were for to convertThe frost into 'a' flame;As for to turne a frowarde hert,55Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.
Corin he liveth carèlesse:He leapes among the leaves:He eates the frutes of thy redresse:[386]Thou 'reapst,' he takes the sheaves.60
My beastes, a whyle your foode refraine,And harke your herdmans sounde:Whom spitefull love, alas! hath slaine,Through-girt[387]with many a wounde.
O happy be ye, beastès wilde,65That here your pasture takes:I se that ye be not begildeOf these your faithfull makes.[388]
The hart he feedeth by the hinde:The bucke harde by the do:70The turtle dove is not unkindeTo him that loves her so.
The ewe she hath by her the ramme:The yong cow hath the bull:The calfe with many a lusty lambe75Do fede their hunger full.
But, wel-away! that nature wroughtThe, Phylida, so faire:For I may say that I have boughtThy beauty all tò deare.80
What reason is that crueltieWith beautie should have part?Or els that such great tyrannyShould dwell in womans hart?
I see therefore to shape my death85She cruelly is prest;[389]To th'ende that I may want my breath:My dayes been at the best.
O Cupide, graunt this my request,And do not stoppe thine eares;90That she may feele within her brestThe paines of my dispaires:
Of Corin 'who' is carèlesse,That she may crave her fee:As I have done in great distresse,95That loved her faithfully.
But since that I shal die her slave;Her slave, and eke her thrall:[390]Write you, my frendes, upon my graveThis chaunce that is befall.100
"Here lieth unhappy HarpalusBy cruell love now slaine:Whom Phylida unjustly thusHath murdred with disdaine."
FOOTNOTES:[380]First published in 1579.[381][together.][382][regarded.][383][cared more for field sports.][384]Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from ed. 1574.[385][overwakeful.][386][care.][387][pierced through.][388][mates.][389][ready.][390][captive.]
[380]First published in 1579.
[380]First published in 1579.
[381][together.]
[381][together.]
[382][regarded.]
[382][regarded.]
[383][cared more for field sports.]
[383][cared more for field sports.]
[384]Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from ed. 1574.
[384]Ver. 33, &c. The corrections are from ed. 1574.
[385][overwakeful.]
[385][overwakeful.]
[386][care.]
[386][care.]
[387][pierced through.]
[387][pierced through.]
[388][mates.]
[388][mates.]
[389][ready.]
[389][ready.]
[390][captive.]
[390][captive.]
An Ancient Scottish Pastoral.