Thepalm of pastoral poesy is here contested by a contemporary writer with the author of the foregoing. The critics will judge of their respective merits; but must make some allowance for the preceding ballad, which is given simply as it stands in the old editions; whereas this, which follows, has been revised and amended throughout by Allan Ramsay, from whoseEvergreen, vol. i. it is here chiefly printed. The curious reader may, however, compare it with the more original copy, printed amongAncient Scottish Poems, from theMS. of George Bannatyne, 1568, Edinburgh, 1770, 12mo. Mr. Robert Henryson (to whom we are indebted for this poem) appears to so much advantage among the writers of eclogue, that we are sorry we can give little other account of him besides what is contained in the following eloge, written by W. Dunbar, a Scottish poet, who lived about the middle of the sixteenth century:
"In Dunfermline he [Death] hes done rounGud Maister Robert Henrisoun."
"In Dunfermline he [Death] hes done rounGud Maister Robert Henrisoun."
Indeed, some little further insight into the history of this Scottish bard is gained from the title prefixed to some of his poems preserved in the British Museum, viz.The morall Fabillis of Esop, compylit be Maister Robert Henrisoun, scolmaister of Dumfermling, 1571. Harl. MSS. 3865, § 1.
In Ramsay'sEvergreen, vol. i. are preserved two other little Doric pieces by Henryson: the one intitledThe Lyon and theMouse, the otherThe garment of gude Ladyis. Some other of his poems may be seen in theAncient Scottish Poems, printed from Bannatyne's MS. above referred to.
[This remarkable poem is peculiarly interesting as being the earliest specimen of pastoral poetry in the language. Campbell calls it "the first known pastoral, and one of the best in a dialect rich with the favours of the pastoral muse." Langhorne writes justly:
[This remarkable poem is peculiarly interesting as being the earliest specimen of pastoral poetry in the language. Campbell calls it "the first known pastoral, and one of the best in a dialect rich with the favours of the pastoral muse." Langhorne writes justly:
"In gentle Henryson's unlaboured strainSweet Arethusa's shepherd breath'd again."
"In gentle Henryson's unlaboured strainSweet Arethusa's shepherd breath'd again."
Percy errs in describing Henryson as a contemporary of Surrey, as the Scottish poet lived half a century before the English one. The dates of his birth and death are not known, but he flourished in the reign of James III. (1460-1488). "On the 10th of September, 1462, the venerable master Robert Henrysone, Licentiate in Arts and Bachelor in Degrees, was incorporated or admitted a member of the newly founded University of Glasgow." He was a notary public, and probably the master of the grammar school attached to the Abbey of Dunfermline, not as might be supposed a mere parish schoolmaster. According to the tradition of the last century, our poet was the representative of the family of Henryson or Henderson, of Fordell, in the county of Fife; but Mr. David Laing thinks that it is a gratuitous assumption to suppose that he or his predecessors ever possessed a single acre of the lands of Fordell.Percy has used the version given in Ramsay'sEvergreen, which is slightly altered in diction from the original in the Bannatyne MS.; for instance, the last stanza occurs in the latter as follows:
Percy errs in describing Henryson as a contemporary of Surrey, as the Scottish poet lived half a century before the English one. The dates of his birth and death are not known, but he flourished in the reign of James III. (1460-1488). "On the 10th of September, 1462, the venerable master Robert Henrysone, Licentiate in Arts and Bachelor in Degrees, was incorporated or admitted a member of the newly founded University of Glasgow." He was a notary public, and probably the master of the grammar school attached to the Abbey of Dunfermline, not as might be supposed a mere parish schoolmaster. According to the tradition of the last century, our poet was the representative of the family of Henryson or Henderson, of Fordell, in the county of Fife; but Mr. David Laing thinks that it is a gratuitous assumption to suppose that he or his predecessors ever possessed a single acre of the lands of Fordell.
Percy has used the version given in Ramsay'sEvergreen, which is slightly altered in diction from the original in the Bannatyne MS.; for instance, the last stanza occurs in the latter as follows:
"Makyne went hame blyth anneuche,Attour the holltis hair;Robene murnit, and Makyne leuche;Scho sang, he sichit sairAnd so left him, bayth wo and wreuch,In dolour and in cair,Kepand his hird under a hucheAmangis the holtis hair."
"Makyne went hame blyth anneuche,Attour the holltis hair;Robene murnit, and Makyne leuche;Scho sang, he sichit sairAnd so left him, bayth wo and wreuch,In dolour and in cair,Kepand his hird under a hucheAmangis the holtis hair."
In theEvergreenversion, the last verse is altered to "Amang the rushy gair," either because the words "holtis hair" occur in verse two of the stanza, or that the Editor saw an impropriety in the close vicinity of the similar wordsholtandheuch. The two words "holtis hair" are explained as hoary hills or hoary woods, but Finlay (Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, 1808, vol. ii. p. 193) holds that "hair" really means high, and derives it from Isl. har == altus. He says that a high rock in some of the northern counties of Scotland, where the dialect is strongly tinctured with Danish, is called "hair craig," and that the same word lingers on in the Hare-stone of the Borough Moor, Edinburgh, which obtained its name in the following manner: The laird of Pennycuik held certain lands by a strange tenure. He was obliged to mount a large stone or rock, and salute the king with three blasts of a horn whenever he passed that way. This rock or eminence was called the "Hare-stone," and still exists near Morningside Church. Hoary, however, is to be understood as grey and not as white with snow, so that the hare-stone is probably the grey stone. The word holt may also mean a heath, and Cædmon uses the phrase "har hæð" = hoar or grey heath.The date (1571) attached to Henryson's version ofÆsop'sFablesis that of transcription. It is not known when the Fables were first printed, but they were reprinted by Robert Lekpreuik for Henry Charteris in 1570. They are supposed to have been written between 1470 and 1480.Henryson wrote several other short poems, as well as theTestamentof Cresseid, written as a continuation or supplement to Chaucer'sTroilus and Cresseide, all of which have been collected for the first time into an elegant volume by David Laing, who has added notes and a memoir of the poet (Edinburgh, 1865).ThisTestamenthas a particular interest for us, because Shakspere referred to it when he wrote "Cressida was a beggar" (Twelfth Night, act iii. sc. 1). The lines in Henryson's poem which illustrate this passage, are as follows:
In theEvergreenversion, the last verse is altered to "Amang the rushy gair," either because the words "holtis hair" occur in verse two of the stanza, or that the Editor saw an impropriety in the close vicinity of the similar wordsholtandheuch. The two words "holtis hair" are explained as hoary hills or hoary woods, but Finlay (Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, 1808, vol. ii. p. 193) holds that "hair" really means high, and derives it from Isl. har == altus. He says that a high rock in some of the northern counties of Scotland, where the dialect is strongly tinctured with Danish, is called "hair craig," and that the same word lingers on in the Hare-stone of the Borough Moor, Edinburgh, which obtained its name in the following manner: The laird of Pennycuik held certain lands by a strange tenure. He was obliged to mount a large stone or rock, and salute the king with three blasts of a horn whenever he passed that way. This rock or eminence was called the "Hare-stone," and still exists near Morningside Church. Hoary, however, is to be understood as grey and not as white with snow, so that the hare-stone is probably the grey stone. The word holt may also mean a heath, and Cædmon uses the phrase "har hæð" = hoar or grey heath.
The date (1571) attached to Henryson's version ofÆsop'sFablesis that of transcription. It is not known when the Fables were first printed, but they were reprinted by Robert Lekpreuik for Henry Charteris in 1570. They are supposed to have been written between 1470 and 1480.
Henryson wrote several other short poems, as well as theTestamentof Cresseid, written as a continuation or supplement to Chaucer'sTroilus and Cresseide, all of which have been collected for the first time into an elegant volume by David Laing, who has added notes and a memoir of the poet (Edinburgh, 1865).
ThisTestamenthas a particular interest for us, because Shakspere referred to it when he wrote "Cressida was a beggar" (Twelfth Night, act iii. sc. 1). The lines in Henryson's poem which illustrate this passage, are as follows:
"Thair was na buit [help], bot furth with thame scho yeidFra place to place, quhill cauld and houngir sairCompellit hir to be ane rank beggair." Ll. 481-3.]
"Thair was na buit [help], bot furth with thame scho yeidFra place to place, quhill cauld and houngir sairCompellit hir to be ane rank beggair." Ll. 481-3.]
Robin sat on the gude grene hill,Keipand a flock of fie,[391]Quhen mirry[392]Makyne said him till,[393]"O Robin rew[394]on me:I haif thee luivt baith loud and still,[395]5Thir towmonds[396]twa or thre;My dule in dern bot gif thou dill,[397]Doubtless but dreid Ill die."Robin replied, Now by the rude,Naithing of love I knaw,10But keip my sheip undir yon wod:Lo quhair they raik on raw.[398]Quhat can have mart[399]thee in thy mude,[400]Thou Makyne to me schaw;Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?[401]15Fain wald I leir[402]that law."The law of luve gin thou wald leir,Tak thair an A, B, C;Be heynd,[403]courtas, and fair of feir,[404][405]Wyse, hardy, kind and frie,20Sae that nae danger do the deir,[406][407]Quhat dule in dern thou drie;[408]Press ay to pleis,[409]and blyth appeir,Be patient and privie."Robin, he answert her againe,25I wat not quhat is luve;But I haif marvel in certaineQuhat makes thee thus wanrufe.[410]The wedder is fair, and I am fain;[411]My sheep gais hail abuve;[412]30And sould we pley us on the plain,They wald us baith repruve."Robin, tak tent[413]unto my tale,And wirk[414]all as I reid;[415]And thou sall haif my heart all hale,35Eik and my maiden-heid:Sen God, he sendis bute for bale,[416]And for murning remeid,[417]I'dern with thee bot gif I dale,[418]Doubtless I am but deid."40Makyne, to-morn be this ilk tyde,Gif ye will meit me heir,Maybe my sheip may gang besyde,Quhyle we have liggd full neir;But maugre haif I, gif I byde,[419]45Frae thay begin to steir,Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd,Then Makyne mak gude cheir."Robin, thou reivs[420]me of my rest;I luve bot thee alane."50Makyne, adieu! the sun goes west,The day is neir-hand gane."Robin, in dule[421]I am so drest,That luve will be my bane."Makyn, gae luve quhair-eir ye list,55For leman I luid nane."Robin, I stand in sic a style,I sich[422]and that full sair."Makyne, I have bene here this quyle;At hame I wish I were.60"Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle,Gif thou will do nae mair."Makyne, som other man beguyle,For hameward I will fare.Syne Robin on his ways he went,65As light as leif on tree;But Makyne murnt and made lament,Scho[423]trow'd him neir to see.Robin he brayd attowre the bent:[424]Then Makyne cried on hie,70"Now may thou sing, for I am shent![425]Quhat ailis luve at me?"Makyne went hame withouten fail,And weirylie could weip;Then Robin in a full fair dale75Assemblit all his sheip.Be that some part of Makyne's ail,Out-throw his heart could creip;Hir fast he followt to assail,And till her tuke gude keip.[426]80Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne,A word for ony thing;For all my luve, it sall be thyne,Withouten departing.[427]All hale thy heart for till have myne,85Is all my coveting;My sheip to morn quhyle houris nyne,Will need of nae keiping."Robin, thou hast heard sung and say,In gests and storys auld,90The man that will not when he may,Sall have nocht when he wald.I pray to heaven baith nicht and day,Be eiked[428]their cares sae cauld,That presses first with thee to play95Be forrest, firth, or fauld."[429]Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,The wether warm and fair,And the grene wod richt neir-hand by,[430]To walk attowre all where:100There may nae janglers[431]us espy,That is in luve contrair;Therin, Makyne, baith you and IUnseen may mak repair."Robin, that warld is now away,105And quyt brocht till an end:And nevir again thereto, perfay,Sall it be as thou wend;For of my pain thou made but play;I words in vain did spend:110As thou hast done, sae sall I say,Murn on, I think to mend."Makyne, the hope of all my heil,[432]My heart on thee is set;I'll evermair to thee be leil,[433]115Quhyle I may live but lett,[434]Never to fail as uthers feill,[435]Quhat grace so eir I get."Robin, with thee I will not deill;Adieu, for thus we met."120Makyne went hameward blyth enough,Attowre the holtis hair;[436]Pure Robin murnd, and Makyne leugh;[437]Scho sang, and he sicht sair:[438]And so left him bayth wo and wreuch,[439]125In dolor and in care,Keipand his herd under a heuch,[440]Amang the rushy gair.[441]
Robin sat on the gude grene hill,Keipand a flock of fie,[391]Quhen mirry[392]Makyne said him till,[393]"O Robin rew[394]on me:I haif thee luivt baith loud and still,[395]5Thir towmonds[396]twa or thre;My dule in dern bot gif thou dill,[397]Doubtless but dreid Ill die."
Robin replied, Now by the rude,Naithing of love I knaw,10But keip my sheip undir yon wod:Lo quhair they raik on raw.[398]Quhat can have mart[399]thee in thy mude,[400]Thou Makyne to me schaw;Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?[401]15Fain wald I leir[402]that law.
"The law of luve gin thou wald leir,Tak thair an A, B, C;Be heynd,[403]courtas, and fair of feir,[404][405]Wyse, hardy, kind and frie,20Sae that nae danger do the deir,[406][407]Quhat dule in dern thou drie;[408]Press ay to pleis,[409]and blyth appeir,Be patient and privie."
Robin, he answert her againe,25I wat not quhat is luve;But I haif marvel in certaineQuhat makes thee thus wanrufe.[410]The wedder is fair, and I am fain;[411]My sheep gais hail abuve;[412]30And sould we pley us on the plain,They wald us baith repruve.
"Robin, tak tent[413]unto my tale,And wirk[414]all as I reid;[415]And thou sall haif my heart all hale,35Eik and my maiden-heid:Sen God, he sendis bute for bale,[416]And for murning remeid,[417]I'dern with thee bot gif I dale,[418]Doubtless I am but deid."40
Makyne, to-morn be this ilk tyde,Gif ye will meit me heir,Maybe my sheip may gang besyde,Quhyle we have liggd full neir;But maugre haif I, gif I byde,[419]45Frae thay begin to steir,Quhat lyes on heart I will nocht hyd,Then Makyne mak gude cheir.
"Robin, thou reivs[420]me of my rest;I luve bot thee alane."50Makyne, adieu! the sun goes west,The day is neir-hand gane."Robin, in dule[421]I am so drest,That luve will be my bane."Makyn, gae luve quhair-eir ye list,55For leman I luid nane.
"Robin, I stand in sic a style,I sich[422]and that full sair."Makyne, I have bene here this quyle;At hame I wish I were.60"Robin, my hinny, talk and smyle,Gif thou will do nae mair."Makyne, som other man beguyle,For hameward I will fare.
Syne Robin on his ways he went,65As light as leif on tree;But Makyne murnt and made lament,Scho[423]trow'd him neir to see.Robin he brayd attowre the bent:[424]Then Makyne cried on hie,70"Now may thou sing, for I am shent![425]Quhat ailis luve at me?"
Makyne went hame withouten fail,And weirylie could weip;Then Robin in a full fair dale75Assemblit all his sheip.Be that some part of Makyne's ail,Out-throw his heart could creip;Hir fast he followt to assail,And till her tuke gude keip.[426]80
Abyd, abyd, thou fair Makyne,A word for ony thing;For all my luve, it sall be thyne,Withouten departing.[427]All hale thy heart for till have myne,85Is all my coveting;My sheip to morn quhyle houris nyne,Will need of nae keiping.
"Robin, thou hast heard sung and say,In gests and storys auld,90The man that will not when he may,Sall have nocht when he wald.I pray to heaven baith nicht and day,Be eiked[428]their cares sae cauld,That presses first with thee to play95Be forrest, firth, or fauld."[429]
Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,The wether warm and fair,And the grene wod richt neir-hand by,[430]To walk attowre all where:100There may nae janglers[431]us espy,That is in luve contrair;Therin, Makyne, baith you and IUnseen may mak repair.
"Robin, that warld is now away,105And quyt brocht till an end:And nevir again thereto, perfay,Sall it be as thou wend;For of my pain thou made but play;I words in vain did spend:110As thou hast done, sae sall I say,Murn on, I think to mend."
Makyne, the hope of all my heil,[432]My heart on thee is set;I'll evermair to thee be leil,[433]115Quhyle I may live but lett,[434]Never to fail as uthers feill,[435]Quhat grace so eir I get."Robin, with thee I will not deill;Adieu, for thus we met."120
Makyne went hameward blyth enough,Attowre the holtis hair;[436]Pure Robin murnd, and Makyne leugh;[437]Scho sang, and he sicht sair:[438]And so left him bayth wo and wreuch,[439]125In dolor and in care,Keipand his herd under a heuch,[440]Amang the rushy gair.[441]
FOOTNOTES:[391][keeping a flock of sheep.][392][when merry.][393][unto.][394][take pity.][395][openly and secretly.][396][these twelvemonths.][397][unless thou share my secret woe.][398][they extend themselves in a row.][399][marred.][400][mood.][401][loved.][402][learn.][403][gentle.][404][fair of countenance.][405]Ver. 19. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above,heynd, notkeynd, as in the Edinb. ed. 1770.[406][do thee hurt.][407]V. 21. So that no danger, Bannatyne's MS.[408][whatever sorrow you may endure in secret.][409][be eager to please.][410][uneasy.][411][glad.][412][go healthful in the uplands.][413][heed.][414][do.][415][advise.][416][since God sends good for evil.][417][for mourning remedy.][418][in secret with thee, unless I share thy favour.][419][But ill will may I have if I stay.][420][bereavest.][421][sorrow.][422][sigh.][423][she.][424][he hastened over the field.][425][confounded.][426][and took good watch of her.][427][dividing.][428][enlarged.][429][by forest, copse, or field.][430]Ver. 99. Bannatyne's MS. haswoid, notwoud, as in ed. 1770.[431][tell-tales.][432][health or happiness.][433][true.][434][live without hindrance.][435]Ver. 117. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above feill, not faill, as in ed. 1770.[436][over the grey woods (see p.81).][437][laughed.][438][sighed sore.][439][wretchedness.][440][height or hill.][441][rushy strip of land.]
[391][keeping a flock of sheep.]
[391][keeping a flock of sheep.]
[392][when merry.]
[392][when merry.]
[393][unto.]
[393][unto.]
[394][take pity.]
[394][take pity.]
[395][openly and secretly.]
[395][openly and secretly.]
[396][these twelvemonths.]
[396][these twelvemonths.]
[397][unless thou share my secret woe.]
[397][unless thou share my secret woe.]
[398][they extend themselves in a row.]
[398][they extend themselves in a row.]
[399][marred.]
[399][marred.]
[400][mood.]
[400][mood.]
[401][loved.]
[401][loved.]
[402][learn.]
[402][learn.]
[403][gentle.]
[403][gentle.]
[404][fair of countenance.]
[404][fair of countenance.]
[405]Ver. 19. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above,heynd, notkeynd, as in the Edinb. ed. 1770.
[405]Ver. 19. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above,heynd, notkeynd, as in the Edinb. ed. 1770.
[406][do thee hurt.]
[406][do thee hurt.]
[407]V. 21. So that no danger, Bannatyne's MS.
[407]V. 21. So that no danger, Bannatyne's MS.
[408][whatever sorrow you may endure in secret.]
[408][whatever sorrow you may endure in secret.]
[409][be eager to please.]
[409][be eager to please.]
[410][uneasy.]
[410][uneasy.]
[411][glad.]
[411][glad.]
[412][go healthful in the uplands.]
[412][go healthful in the uplands.]
[413][heed.]
[413][heed.]
[414][do.]
[414][do.]
[415][advise.]
[415][advise.]
[416][since God sends good for evil.]
[416][since God sends good for evil.]
[417][for mourning remedy.]
[417][for mourning remedy.]
[418][in secret with thee, unless I share thy favour.]
[418][in secret with thee, unless I share thy favour.]
[419][But ill will may I have if I stay.]
[419][But ill will may I have if I stay.]
[420][bereavest.]
[420][bereavest.]
[421][sorrow.]
[421][sorrow.]
[422][sigh.]
[422][sigh.]
[423][she.]
[423][she.]
[424][he hastened over the field.]
[424][he hastened over the field.]
[425][confounded.]
[425][confounded.]
[426][and took good watch of her.]
[426][and took good watch of her.]
[427][dividing.]
[427][dividing.]
[428][enlarged.]
[428][enlarged.]
[429][by forest, copse, or field.]
[429][by forest, copse, or field.]
[430]Ver. 99. Bannatyne's MS. haswoid, notwoud, as in ed. 1770.
[430]Ver. 99. Bannatyne's MS. haswoid, notwoud, as in ed. 1770.
[431][tell-tales.]
[431][tell-tales.]
[432][health or happiness.]
[432][health or happiness.]
[433][true.]
[433][true.]
[434][live without hindrance.]
[434][live without hindrance.]
[435]Ver. 117. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above feill, not faill, as in ed. 1770.
[435]Ver. 117. Bannatyne's MS. reads as above feill, not faill, as in ed. 1770.
[436][over the grey woods (see p.81).]
[436][over the grey woods (see p.81).]
[437][laughed.]
[437][laughed.]
[438][sighed sore.]
[438][sighed sore.]
[439][wretchedness.]
[439][wretchedness.]
[440][height or hill.]
[440][height or hill.]
[441][rushy strip of land.]
[441][rushy strip of land.]
Dialogue Between a Pilgrim and Herdsman.
Thescene of this beautiful old ballad is laid near Walsingham, in Norfolk, where was anciently an image of the Virgin Mary, famous over all Europe for the numerous pilgrimages made to it, and the great riches it possessed. Erasmus has given a very exact and humorous description of the superstitions practised there in his time. See his account of theVirgo parathalassia, in his colloquy, intitled,Peregrinatioreligionis ergo. He tells us, the rich offerings in silver, gold, and precious stones, that were there shewn him, were incredible, there being scarce a person of any note in England, but what some time or other paid a visit, or sent a present toour ladyof Walsingham.[442]At the dissolution of the monasteries in 1538, this splendid image, with another from Ipswich, was carried to Chelsea, and there burnt in the presence of commissioners; who, we trust, did not burn the jewels and the finery.
This poem is printed from a copy in the Editor's folio MS. which had greatly suffered by the hand of time; but vestiges of several of the lines remaining, some conjectural supplements have been attempted, which, for greater exactness, are in this one ballad distinguished by italicks.[443]
[The shrine of the Virgin at Walsingham was the favourite English resort of pilgrims for nearly four hundred years, and the people of Norfolk were in great distress when their image was taken away from them, and the stream of votaries was suddenly stopped. In a copy of theReliquesin the library of the British Museum, there is a MS. note by William Cole to the following effect: "I was lately informed that the identical image of our lady of Walsingham being mured up in an old wall, and there discovered on pulling it down, was presented by the Earl of Leicester (Coke) to a relative of his of the Roman Catholic religion."The shrine was connected with a Priory of Augustinian Canons, which was founded during the episcopate of William Turbus, Bishop of Norwich (1146-1174). When Henry III. made his pilgrimage to the shrine in the year 1241, it had long been famous, and was probably more frequented even than the tomb of St. Thomas a Becket at Canterbury. Foreigners of all nations came hither on pilgrimage, and in number and quality the devotees appear to have equalled those who toiled to the Lady of Loretto in Italy. Several of our kings visited the shrine after Henry III. had set the example. Edward I. was there in 1280 and in 1296, Edward II. in 1315, and Edward IV. and his queen in 1469. Henry VII. offered his prayers in "our Lady's Church" at Christmas time 1486-7, and in the following summer, after the battle of Stoke, "he sent his banner to be offered to our Lady of Walsingham, where before he made his vows." Spelman gives on hearsay evidence the report that Henry VIII., in the second year of his reign, walked barefoot to Walsingham from a neighbouring village, and then presented a valuable necklace to the image.Bartholomew, Lord Burghersh, K.G., by his will made in 1369, ordered a statue of himself on horseback to be made in silver, and offered to our Lady of Walsingham; and Henry VII., in his lifetime, gave a kneeling figure of himself. There are numerous references to Walsingham in thePaston Letters, and in 1443 we find Margaret Paston writing to her husband to tell him that her mother had vowed another image of wax of his own weight, to "our Lady of Walsingham," and that she herself had vowed to go on pilgrimage there for him. (Ed. Fenn, iii. 22.)The total income of the place (including the offerings) was reported to be£650 in the twenty-sixth year of Henry VIII.'s reign, and Roger Ascham, when visiting Cologne in 1550, makes this remark: "The Three Kings be not so rich, I believe, as was the Lady of Walsingham." Now the treasures at Cologne are said to have been worth six millions of francs (£240,000).The road to Walsingham was a well-frequented one, and a cross was set up in every town it passed through. An old track running by Newmarket, Brandon, and Castle Acre, which was used by the pilgrims, was known as the "Palmer's Way" or "Walsingham Green Way."The Milky Way ("the Watling-street of the heavens," as Chaucer has it) has been associated with pilgrimages in several countries. In Norfolk, the long streaming path of light was supposed to point the pilgrim on his road to Walsingham, and was in consequence called the "Walsingham Way." In Italy, in France, and in the north of Europe it has been called "St. Jago's Way," "Jacobsstrasse," &c., as pointing the way to Compostella, and one of its Turkish names is "The Hadji's Way," as indicating the road to Mecca.[444]Among the Rawlinson MSS. in the Bodleian Library isALament for Walsingham, in the handwriting of Philip, Earl of Arundel, the third stanza of which is as follows:
[The shrine of the Virgin at Walsingham was the favourite English resort of pilgrims for nearly four hundred years, and the people of Norfolk were in great distress when their image was taken away from them, and the stream of votaries was suddenly stopped. In a copy of theReliquesin the library of the British Museum, there is a MS. note by William Cole to the following effect: "I was lately informed that the identical image of our lady of Walsingham being mured up in an old wall, and there discovered on pulling it down, was presented by the Earl of Leicester (Coke) to a relative of his of the Roman Catholic religion."
The shrine was connected with a Priory of Augustinian Canons, which was founded during the episcopate of William Turbus, Bishop of Norwich (1146-1174). When Henry III. made his pilgrimage to the shrine in the year 1241, it had long been famous, and was probably more frequented even than the tomb of St. Thomas a Becket at Canterbury. Foreigners of all nations came hither on pilgrimage, and in number and quality the devotees appear to have equalled those who toiled to the Lady of Loretto in Italy. Several of our kings visited the shrine after Henry III. had set the example. Edward I. was there in 1280 and in 1296, Edward II. in 1315, and Edward IV. and his queen in 1469. Henry VII. offered his prayers in "our Lady's Church" at Christmas time 1486-7, and in the following summer, after the battle of Stoke, "he sent his banner to be offered to our Lady of Walsingham, where before he made his vows." Spelman gives on hearsay evidence the report that Henry VIII., in the second year of his reign, walked barefoot to Walsingham from a neighbouring village, and then presented a valuable necklace to the image.Bartholomew, Lord Burghersh, K.G., by his will made in 1369, ordered a statue of himself on horseback to be made in silver, and offered to our Lady of Walsingham; and Henry VII., in his lifetime, gave a kneeling figure of himself. There are numerous references to Walsingham in thePaston Letters, and in 1443 we find Margaret Paston writing to her husband to tell him that her mother had vowed another image of wax of his own weight, to "our Lady of Walsingham," and that she herself had vowed to go on pilgrimage there for him. (Ed. Fenn, iii. 22.)
The total income of the place (including the offerings) was reported to be£650 in the twenty-sixth year of Henry VIII.'s reign, and Roger Ascham, when visiting Cologne in 1550, makes this remark: "The Three Kings be not so rich, I believe, as was the Lady of Walsingham." Now the treasures at Cologne are said to have been worth six millions of francs (£240,000).
The road to Walsingham was a well-frequented one, and a cross was set up in every town it passed through. An old track running by Newmarket, Brandon, and Castle Acre, which was used by the pilgrims, was known as the "Palmer's Way" or "Walsingham Green Way."
The Milky Way ("the Watling-street of the heavens," as Chaucer has it) has been associated with pilgrimages in several countries. In Norfolk, the long streaming path of light was supposed to point the pilgrim on his road to Walsingham, and was in consequence called the "Walsingham Way." In Italy, in France, and in the north of Europe it has been called "St. Jago's Way," "Jacobsstrasse," &c., as pointing the way to Compostella, and one of its Turkish names is "The Hadji's Way," as indicating the road to Mecca.[444]
Among the Rawlinson MSS. in the Bodleian Library isALament for Walsingham, in the handwriting of Philip, Earl of Arundel, the third stanza of which is as follows:
"Bitter, bitter, oh! to behouldthe grasse to groweWhere the walles of WalsingamSo statly did sheue.Such were the workes of WalsingamWhile shee did stand!Such are the wrackes as now do sheweof that holy land!Levell, Levell with the groundthe towres doe lye."
"Bitter, bitter, oh! to behouldthe grasse to groweWhere the walles of WalsingamSo statly did sheue.Such were the workes of WalsingamWhile shee did stand!Such are the wrackes as now do sheweof that holy land!Levell, Levell with the groundthe towres doe lye."
The whole poem is printed in the Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 470.The late Mr. John Gough Nichols published in 1849 a very interesting volume, containing a translation of theColloquy of Erasmus, with valuable notes in illustration of it, under the following title: "Pilgrimages to Saint Mary of Walsingham and Saint Thomas of Canterbury, by Desiderius Erasmus, newly translated ... and illustrated by J. G. Nichols. Westminster. 1849." sm. 8vo. This work has lately been reprinted.An excellent description of Walsingham Priory, with an account of the excavations made on its site in 1853, will be found in Henry Harrod'sGleanings among the Castles and Convents of Norfolk, 8vo. Norwich, 1857, pp. 155-197.]
The whole poem is printed in the Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 470.
The late Mr. John Gough Nichols published in 1849 a very interesting volume, containing a translation of theColloquy of Erasmus, with valuable notes in illustration of it, under the following title: "Pilgrimages to Saint Mary of Walsingham and Saint Thomas of Canterbury, by Desiderius Erasmus, newly translated ... and illustrated by J. G. Nichols. Westminster. 1849." sm. 8vo. This work has lately been reprinted.
An excellent description of Walsingham Priory, with an account of the excavations made on its site in 1853, will be found in Henry Harrod'sGleanings among the Castles and Convents of Norfolk, 8vo. Norwich, 1857, pp. 155-197.]
Gentle heardsman, tell to me,Of curtesy I thee pray,Unto the towne of WalsinghamWhich is the right and ready way."Unto the towne of Walsingham5The way is hard for to be gon;And verry crooked are those pathesFor you to find out all alone."Weere the miles doubled thrise,And the way never soe ill,10Itt were not enough for mine offence;Itt is soe grievous and soe ill."Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire,Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene;Time hath not given thee leave, as yett,15For to committ so great a sinne."Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say,If thou knewest soe much as I;My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest,Have well deserved for to dye.20I am not what I seeme to bee,My clothes and sexe doe differ farr:I am a woman, woe is me!Born[445]to greeffe and irksome care.For mybeloved, and well-beloved,25My wayward cruelty could kill:And though my teares will nought avail,Most dearely I bewail himstill.He was the flower of noble wights,None ever more sincere coldebee;30Of comely mien and shapehee was,And tenderlye hee loved mee.When thus I saw he loved me well,I grewe so proud his paine to see,That I, who did notknow myselfe,35Thought scorne of such a youthas hee.[446]And grew soe coy and nice to please,As women's lookes are often soe,He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth,Unlesse I willed him soe to doe.40Thus being wearyed with delayesTo see I pittyed not his greeffe,He gott him to a secrett place,And there he dyed without releeffe.And for his sake these weeds I weare,45And sacriffice my tender age;And every day Ile begg my bread,To undergoe this pilgrimage.Thus every day I fast and pray,And ever will doe till I dye;50And gett me to some secrett place,For soe did hee, and soe will I.Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more,But keepe my secretts I thee pray;Unto the towne of Walsingam55Show me the right and readye way."Now goe thy wayes, and God before!For he must ever guide thee still:Turne downe that dale, the right hand path,And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well!"60
Gentle heardsman, tell to me,Of curtesy I thee pray,Unto the towne of WalsinghamWhich is the right and ready way.
"Unto the towne of Walsingham5The way is hard for to be gon;And verry crooked are those pathesFor you to find out all alone."
Weere the miles doubled thrise,And the way never soe ill,10Itt were not enough for mine offence;Itt is soe grievous and soe ill.
"Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire,Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene;Time hath not given thee leave, as yett,15For to committ so great a sinne."
Yes, heardsman, yes, soe woldest thou say,If thou knewest soe much as I;My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest,Have well deserved for to dye.20
I am not what I seeme to bee,My clothes and sexe doe differ farr:I am a woman, woe is me!Born[445]to greeffe and irksome care.
For mybeloved, and well-beloved,25My wayward cruelty could kill:And though my teares will nought avail,Most dearely I bewail himstill.
He was the flower of noble wights,None ever more sincere coldebee;30Of comely mien and shapehee was,And tenderlye hee loved mee.
When thus I saw he loved me well,I grewe so proud his paine to see,That I, who did notknow myselfe,35Thought scorne of such a youthas hee.
[446]And grew soe coy and nice to please,As women's lookes are often soe,He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth,Unlesse I willed him soe to doe.40
Thus being wearyed with delayesTo see I pittyed not his greeffe,He gott him to a secrett place,And there he dyed without releeffe.
And for his sake these weeds I weare,45And sacriffice my tender age;And every day Ile begg my bread,To undergoe this pilgrimage.
Thus every day I fast and pray,And ever will doe till I dye;50And gett me to some secrett place,For soe did hee, and soe will I.
Now, gentle heardsman, aske no more,But keepe my secretts I thee pray;Unto the towne of Walsingam55Show me the right and readye way.
"Now goe thy wayes, and God before!For he must ever guide thee still:Turne downe that dale, the right hand path,And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well!"60