ThisSonnet is given from a small quarto MS. in the Editor's possession, written in the time of Q. Elizabeth. Another Copy of it containing some variations, is reprinted in theMuses' Library, p. 295, from an ancient miscellany, intitledEngland's Helicon, 1600, 4to. The author wasNicholas Breton, a writer of some fame in the reign of Elizabeth; who also published an interlude intitledAn old man's lesson anda young man's love, 4to., and many other little pieces in prose and verse, the titles of which may be seen in Winstanley, Ames'Typog.and Osborne'sHarl. Catalog.&c.—He is mentioned with great respect byMeres, in his 2d pt. ofWit's Common-wealth, 1598, f. 283, and is alluded to in Beaumont and Fletcher'sScornful Lady, act ii., and again inWit without Money, act iii.—See Whalley'sBen Jonson, vol. iii. p. 103.
The present Edition is improved by a copy inEngland's Helicon, edit. 1614, 8vo.
This little Pastoral is one of the Songs in "The Honourable Entertainment gieven to the Queenes Majestie in Progresse at Elvetham in Hampshire, by the R. H. the Earle of Hertford, 1591, 4to." (Printed by Wolfe. No name of author.) See in that pamphlet,
"The thirde daies Entertainment.
"On Wednesday morning about 9 o'clock, as her Majestie opened a casement of her gallerie window, ther were 3 excellent musitians, who being disguised in auncient country attire, did greet her with a pleasant song ofCorydon and Phillida, made in 3 parts of purpose. The song, as well for the worth of the dittie as the aptnesse of the note thereto applied, it pleased her Highnesse after it had been once sung to command it againe, and highly to grace it with her cheerefull acceptance and commendation.
The Plowman's Song.
In the merrie month of May, &c."
In the merrie month of May, &c."
The splendour and magnificence of Elizabeth's reign is nowhere more strongly painted than in these little diaries of some of her summer excursions to the houses of her nobility; nor could amore acceptable present be given to the world, than a republication of a select number of such details as this of the entertainment atElvetham, that atKillingworth, &c., &c., which so strongly mark the spirit of the times, and present us with scenes so very remote from modern manners.
Since the above was written, the public hath been gratified with a most compleat work on the foregoing subject, intitled,The Progressesand Public Processions of Queen Elizabeth, &c. By JohnNichols, F.A.S., Edinb. and Perth, 1788, 2 vols. 4to.
[The author of this elegant little poem was a most voluminous author, and "is supposed to be the same Capt. Nicholas Breton, who was of Norton in Northamptonshire, and dying there June 22, 1624, has a monument in that church."[223]Dr. Rimbault (MusicalIllustrations of Percy's Reliques) writes as follows of the music:—"We have here two settings of this beautiful pastoral, the first as it was sung by the 'three excellent musitians' before Queen Elizabeth in 1591; the second as it was reset in the following century. The first is extracted fromMadrigals to 3, 4, and 5 parts, apt for violsand voices, newly composed by Michael Este, 1604; the second fromCheerfull Ayres or Ballads, set for three voyces, by Dr. John Wilson, Oxford, 1660. The latter became extremely popular, and is included in D'Urfey'sPills to Purge Melancholy, 1719, and several other musical miscellanies of subsequent date."]
[The author of this elegant little poem was a most voluminous author, and "is supposed to be the same Capt. Nicholas Breton, who was of Norton in Northamptonshire, and dying there June 22, 1624, has a monument in that church."[223]Dr. Rimbault (MusicalIllustrations of Percy's Reliques) writes as follows of the music:—"We have here two settings of this beautiful pastoral, the first as it was sung by the 'three excellent musitians' before Queen Elizabeth in 1591; the second as it was reset in the following century. The first is extracted fromMadrigals to 3, 4, and 5 parts, apt for violsand voices, newly composed by Michael Este, 1604; the second fromCheerfull Ayres or Ballads, set for three voyces, by Dr. John Wilson, Oxford, 1660. The latter became extremely popular, and is included in D'Urfey'sPills to Purge Melancholy, 1719, and several other musical miscellanies of subsequent date."]
In the merrie moneth of Maye,In a morne by break of daye,With a troope of damselles playingForthe "I yode" forsooth a maying:[224]When anon by a wood side,5Where as Maye was in his pride,I espied all alonePhillida and Corydon.Much adoe there was, god wot;He wold love, and she wold not.10She sayde, never man was trewe;He sayes, none was false to you.He sayde, hee had lovde her longe:She sayes, love should have no wronge.Corydon wold kisse her then:15She sayes, maydes must kisse no men,Tyll they doe for good and all.When she made the shepperde callAll the heavens to wytnes truthe,Never loved a truer youthe.20Then with manie a prettie othe,Yea and nay, and, faith and trothe;Suche as seelie shepperdes useWhen they will not love abuse;Love, that had bene long deluded,25Was with kisses sweete concluded;And Phillida with garlands gayeWas made the lady of the Maye.
In the merrie moneth of Maye,In a morne by break of daye,With a troope of damselles playingForthe "I yode" forsooth a maying:[224]
When anon by a wood side,5Where as Maye was in his pride,I espied all alonePhillida and Corydon.
Much adoe there was, god wot;He wold love, and she wold not.10She sayde, never man was trewe;He sayes, none was false to you.
He sayde, hee had lovde her longe:She sayes, love should have no wronge.Corydon wold kisse her then:15She sayes, maydes must kisse no men,
Tyll they doe for good and all.When she made the shepperde callAll the heavens to wytnes truthe,Never loved a truer youthe.20
Then with manie a prettie othe,Yea and nay, and, faith and trothe;Suche as seelie shepperdes useWhen they will not love abuse;
Love, that had bene long deluded,25Was with kisses sweete concluded;And Phillida with garlands gayeWas made the lady of the Maye.
FOOTNOTES:[223][England'sHelicon(Brydges'British Bibliographer, vol. iii.)][224]Ver. 4. the wode, MS.
[223][England'sHelicon(Brydges'British Bibliographer, vol. iii.)]
[223][England'sHelicon(Brydges'British Bibliographer, vol. iii.)]
[224]Ver. 4. the wode, MS.
[224]Ver. 4. the wode, MS.
Thisballad is ancient, and has been popular; we find it quoted in many old plays. See Beaum. and Fletcher'sKnight of the Burning Pestle, 4to. 1613, act v. sc. iii.The Varietie, a comedy, 12mo. 1649, act iv. &c. In Sir William Davenant's play,The Witts, a. iii. a gallant thus boasts of himself:
"Limber and sound! besides I sing Musgrave,And for Chevy-chace no lark comes near me."
"Limber and sound! besides I sing Musgrave,And for Chevy-chace no lark comes near me."
In the PepysCollection, vol. iii. p. 314, is an imitation of this old song, in 33 stanzas, by a more modern pen, with many alterations, but evidently for the worse.
This is given from an old printed copy in the British Museum,with corrections; some of which are from a fragment in the Editor's folio MS. It is also printed in Dryden'sCollection of MiscellaneousPoems.
[The copy of this ballad in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 119) is a mutilated fragment consisting of only ten complete stanzas and three half ones. The oldest entire copy is to be found inWit Restor'd, 1658, where it is calledtheoldballad of littleMusgrave, which is given by Professor Child (English and ScottishBallads, vol. ii. p. 15) in preference to Percy's. This version, not very exactly transcribed, is printed in Dryden'sMiscellany Poems(1716, vol. iii. 312), and Ritson (Ancient Songs and Ballads, vol. ii. p. 116) copied it from thence. Ritson writes of one of Percy's statements above: "Dr. Percy indeed, by some mistake, gives it as from an old printed copy in the British Museum; observing that 'In the Pepys collection is an imitation of this old song in a different measure, by a more modern pen, with many alterations, but evidently for the worse.' It is very true, and not less so that the only copies in the museum (for there are two) are more recent impressions of this identicalimitation."It is the 14th stanza slightly altered which is quoted in theKnight of the Burning Pestle.
[The copy of this ballad in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 119) is a mutilated fragment consisting of only ten complete stanzas and three half ones. The oldest entire copy is to be found inWit Restor'd, 1658, where it is calledtheoldballad of littleMusgrave, which is given by Professor Child (English and ScottishBallads, vol. ii. p. 15) in preference to Percy's. This version, not very exactly transcribed, is printed in Dryden'sMiscellany Poems(1716, vol. iii. 312), and Ritson (Ancient Songs and Ballads, vol. ii. p. 116) copied it from thence. Ritson writes of one of Percy's statements above: "Dr. Percy indeed, by some mistake, gives it as from an old printed copy in the British Museum; observing that 'In the Pepys collection is an imitation of this old song in a different measure, by a more modern pen, with many alterations, but evidently for the worse.' It is very true, and not less so that the only copies in the museum (for there are two) are more recent impressions of this identicalimitation."
It is the 14th stanza slightly altered which is quoted in theKnight of the Burning Pestle.
"And some they whistled, and some they sung,Hey down down!And some did loudly sayEver as Lord Barnet's horn blew,Away Musgrave, away."
"And some they whistled, and some they sung,Hey down down!And some did loudly sayEver as Lord Barnet's horn blew,Away Musgrave, away."
There are several Scottish versions, in which the reciters have altered the locality. Jamieson has printed one which he callsLord Barnaby(Popular Ballads and Songs, i. 170). He states that he had heard it repeated both in Morayshire and in the southern counties.Motherwell gives the air in hisMinstrelsywhich he noted down from oral communication, and this verse—
There are several Scottish versions, in which the reciters have altered the locality. Jamieson has printed one which he callsLord Barnaby(Popular Ballads and Songs, i. 170). He states that he had heard it repeated both in Morayshire and in the southern counties.
Motherwell gives the air in hisMinstrelsywhich he noted down from oral communication, and this verse—
"It fell upon a Martinmas timeWhen the nobles were a drinking wine,That little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did goFor to see the ladies come in."
"It fell upon a Martinmas timeWhen the nobles were a drinking wine,That little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did goFor to see the ladies come in."
Mr. J. H. Dixon includes a version entitledLord Burnett andLittle Munsgrovein his Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads (Percy Society, vol. xvii.)Home adopted the name of Lady Barnard in hisDouglasbefore he took that of Lady Randolph, see No. 18, Gil Morrice.There is another ballad calledThe Bonny Birdy, with a similar story. Jamieson (i. 162) prints it and alters the title toLordRandal.]
Mr. J. H. Dixon includes a version entitledLord Burnett andLittle Munsgrovein his Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads (Percy Society, vol. xvii.)
Home adopted the name of Lady Barnard in hisDouglasbefore he took that of Lady Randolph, see No. 18, Gil Morrice.
There is another ballad calledThe Bonny Birdy, with a similar story. Jamieson (i. 162) prints it and alters the title toLordRandal.]
As it fell out on a highe holye daye,As many bee in the yeare,When yong men and maides together do goeTheir masses and mattins to heare,Little Musgràve came to the church door,5The priest was at the mass;But he had more mind of the fine womèn,Then he had of our Ladyes grace.And some of them were clad in greene,And others were clad in pall;10And then came in my lord Barnardes wife,The fairest among them all.Shee cast an eye on little MusgràveAs bright as the summer sunne:O then bethought him little Musgràve,15This ladyes heart I have wonne.Quoth she, I have loved thee, little Musgràve,Fulle long and manye a daye.So have I loved you, ladye faire,Yet word I never durst saye.20I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,[225]Full daintilye bedight,If thoult wend thither, my little Musgràve,Thoust lig in mine armes all night.Quoth hee, I thanke yee, ladye faire,25This kindness yee shew to mee;And whether it be to my weale or woe,This night will I lig with thee.All this beheard a litle foot-page,By his ladyes coach as he ranne:30Quoth he, thoughe I am my ladyes page,Yet Ime my lord Barnardes manne.My lord Barnàrd shall knowe of this,Although I lose a limbe.And ever whereas the bridges were broke,35He layd him downe to swimme.Asleep or awake, thou lord Barnàrd,As thou art a man of life,Lo! this same night at Bucklesford-BuryLitle Musgrave's in bed with thy wife.40If it be trew, thou litle foote-page,This tale thou hast told to mee,Then all my lands in Bucklesford-BuryI freelye will give to thee.But and it be a lye, thou litle foot-page,45This tale thou hast told to mee,On the highest tree in Bucklesford-BuryAll hanged shalt thou bee.Rise up, rise up, my merry men all,And saddle me my good steede;50This night must I to Bucklesford-bury;God wott, I had never more neede.Then some they whistled, and some they sang,And some did loudlye saye,Whenever lord Barnardes horne it blewe,55Awaye, Musgràve, away.Methinkes I heare the throstle cocke,Methinkes I heare the jay,Methinkes I heare lord Barnards home;I would I were awaye.60Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgràve,And huggle me from the cold;For it is but some shephardes boyeA whistling his sheepe to the fold.[226]Is not thy hawke upon the pearche,65Thy horse eating corne and haye?And thou a gay lady within thine armes:And wouldst thou be awaye?By this lord Barnard was come to the dore,And lighted upon a stone:70And he pulled out three silver keyes,And opened the dores eche one.He lifted up the coverlett,He lifted up the sheete;How now, how now, thou little Musgràve,75Dost find my gaye ladye sweete?I find her sweete, quoth little Musgràve,The more is my griefe and paine;Ide gladlye give three hundred poundesThat I were on yonder plaine.80Arise, arise, thou little Musgràve,And put thy cloathes nowe on,It shall never be said in my countree,That I killed a naked man.I have two swordes in one scabbàrde,85Full deare they cost my purse;And thou shalt have the best of them,And I will have the worse.The first stroke that little Musgrave strucke,He hurt lord Barnard sore;90The next stroke that lord Barnard strucke,Little Musgrave never strucke more.With that bespake the ladye faire,In bed whereas she laye,Althoughe thou art dead, my little Musgràve,95Yet for thee I will praye:And wishe well to thy soule will I,So long as I have life;So will I not do for thee, Barnàrd,Thoughe I am thy wedded wife.100He cut her pappes from off her brest;Great pitye it was to seeThe drops of this fair ladyes bloodeRun trickling downe her knee.Wo worth, wo worth ye, my merrye men all,105You never were borne for my goode:Why did you not offer to stay my hande,When you sawe me wax so woode?[227]For I have slaine the fairest sir knighte,That ever rode on a steede;110So have I done the fairest lady,That ever ware womans weede.[228]A grave, a grave, Lord Barnard cryde,To putt these lovers in;But lay my ladye o' the upper hande,115For she comes o' the better kin.
As it fell out on a highe holye daye,As many bee in the yeare,When yong men and maides together do goeTheir masses and mattins to heare,
Little Musgràve came to the church door,5The priest was at the mass;But he had more mind of the fine womèn,Then he had of our Ladyes grace.
And some of them were clad in greene,And others were clad in pall;10And then came in my lord Barnardes wife,The fairest among them all.
Shee cast an eye on little MusgràveAs bright as the summer sunne:O then bethought him little Musgràve,15This ladyes heart I have wonne.
Quoth she, I have loved thee, little Musgràve,Fulle long and manye a daye.So have I loved you, ladye faire,Yet word I never durst saye.20
I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,[225]Full daintilye bedight,If thoult wend thither, my little Musgràve,Thoust lig in mine armes all night.
Quoth hee, I thanke yee, ladye faire,25This kindness yee shew to mee;And whether it be to my weale or woe,This night will I lig with thee.
All this beheard a litle foot-page,By his ladyes coach as he ranne:30Quoth he, thoughe I am my ladyes page,Yet Ime my lord Barnardes manne.
My lord Barnàrd shall knowe of this,Although I lose a limbe.And ever whereas the bridges were broke,35He layd him downe to swimme.
Asleep or awake, thou lord Barnàrd,As thou art a man of life,Lo! this same night at Bucklesford-BuryLitle Musgrave's in bed with thy wife.40
If it be trew, thou litle foote-page,This tale thou hast told to mee,Then all my lands in Bucklesford-BuryI freelye will give to thee.
But and it be a lye, thou litle foot-page,45This tale thou hast told to mee,On the highest tree in Bucklesford-BuryAll hanged shalt thou bee.
Rise up, rise up, my merry men all,And saddle me my good steede;50This night must I to Bucklesford-bury;God wott, I had never more neede.
Then some they whistled, and some they sang,And some did loudlye saye,Whenever lord Barnardes horne it blewe,55Awaye, Musgràve, away.
Methinkes I heare the throstle cocke,Methinkes I heare the jay,Methinkes I heare lord Barnards home;I would I were awaye.60
Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgràve,And huggle me from the cold;For it is but some shephardes boyeA whistling his sheepe to the fold.[226]
Is not thy hawke upon the pearche,65Thy horse eating corne and haye?And thou a gay lady within thine armes:And wouldst thou be awaye?
By this lord Barnard was come to the dore,And lighted upon a stone:70And he pulled out three silver keyes,And opened the dores eche one.
He lifted up the coverlett,He lifted up the sheete;How now, how now, thou little Musgràve,75Dost find my gaye ladye sweete?
I find her sweete, quoth little Musgràve,The more is my griefe and paine;Ide gladlye give three hundred poundesThat I were on yonder plaine.80
Arise, arise, thou little Musgràve,And put thy cloathes nowe on,It shall never be said in my countree,That I killed a naked man.
I have two swordes in one scabbàrde,85Full deare they cost my purse;And thou shalt have the best of them,And I will have the worse.
The first stroke that little Musgrave strucke,He hurt lord Barnard sore;90The next stroke that lord Barnard strucke,Little Musgrave never strucke more.
With that bespake the ladye faire,In bed whereas she laye,Althoughe thou art dead, my little Musgràve,95Yet for thee I will praye:
And wishe well to thy soule will I,So long as I have life;So will I not do for thee, Barnàrd,Thoughe I am thy wedded wife.100
He cut her pappes from off her brest;Great pitye it was to seeThe drops of this fair ladyes bloodeRun trickling downe her knee.
Wo worth, wo worth ye, my merrye men all,105You never were borne for my goode:Why did you not offer to stay my hande,When you sawe me wax so woode?[227]
For I have slaine the fairest sir knighte,That ever rode on a steede;110So have I done the fairest lady,That ever ware womans weede.[228]
A grave, a grave, Lord Barnard cryde,To putt these lovers in;But lay my ladye o' the upper hande,115For she comes o' the better kin.
†‡† That the more modern copy is to be dated about the middle of the last century, will be readily conceived from the tenor of the concluding stanza, viz.
†‡† That the more modern copy is to be dated about the middle of the last century, will be readily conceived from the tenor of the concluding stanza, viz.
"This sad Mischief by Lust was wrought;Then let us call for Grace,That we may shun the wicked vice,And fly from Sin a-pace."
"This sad Mischief by Lust was wrought;Then let us call for Grace,That we may shun the wicked vice,And fly from Sin a-pace."
FOOTNOTES:[225]Bucklefield-berry, fol. MS.[226]Ver. 64. Is whistling sheepe ore the mold, fol. MS.[227][wildly angry.][228][See the last stanza ofChilde Mauricefrom Folio MS., book i. No. 18, which is almost identical with this.]
[225]Bucklefield-berry, fol. MS.
[225]Bucklefield-berry, fol. MS.
[226]Ver. 64. Is whistling sheepe ore the mold, fol. MS.
[226]Ver. 64. Is whistling sheepe ore the mold, fol. MS.
[227][wildly angry.]
[227][wildly angry.]
[228][See the last stanza ofChilde Mauricefrom Folio MS., book i. No. 18, which is almost identical with this.]
[228][See the last stanza ofChilde Mauricefrom Folio MS., book i. No. 18, which is almost identical with this.]
A Scottish Song.
Thissonnet appears to be ancient: that and its simplicity of sentiment have recommended it to a place here.
[This is marked in Ramsay'sTea Table Miscellanyas an old song with additions. It is not known who wrote the song or who composed the air belonging to it. They are both old.]
[This is marked in Ramsay'sTea Table Miscellanyas an old song with additions. It is not known who wrote the song or who composed the air belonging to it. They are both old.]
Will ye gae to the ew-bughts,[229]Marion,And wear in[230]the sheip wi' mee?The sun shines sweit, my Marion,But nae half sae sweit as thee.O Marion's a bonnie lass;5And the blyth blinks[231]in her ee:And fain wad I marrie Marion,Gin Marion wad marrie mee.Theire's gowd in your garters, Marion;And siller on your white hauss-bane[232]:10Fou faine wad I kisse my MarionAt eene quhan I cum hame.Theire's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion,Quha gape and glowr wi' their eeAt kirk, quhan they see my Marion;15Bot nane of them lues[233]like mee.Ive nine milk-ews, my Marion,A cow and a brawney quay;[234]Ise gie tham au to my Marion,Just on her bridal day.20And yees get a grein sey[235]apron,And waistcote o' London broun;And wow bot ye will be vaporingQuhaneir ye gang to the toun.Ime yong and stout, my Marion,25None dance lik mee on the greine;And gin ye forsak me, Marion,Ise een gae draw up wi' Jeane.Sae put on your pearlins,[236]Marion,And kirtle oth' cramasie;[237]30And sune as my chin has nae haire on,I sall cum west, and see yee.
Will ye gae to the ew-bughts,[229]Marion,And wear in[230]the sheip wi' mee?The sun shines sweit, my Marion,But nae half sae sweit as thee.O Marion's a bonnie lass;5And the blyth blinks[231]in her ee:And fain wad I marrie Marion,Gin Marion wad marrie mee.
Theire's gowd in your garters, Marion;And siller on your white hauss-bane[232]:10Fou faine wad I kisse my MarionAt eene quhan I cum hame.Theire's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion,Quha gape and glowr wi' their eeAt kirk, quhan they see my Marion;15Bot nane of them lues[233]like mee.
Ive nine milk-ews, my Marion,A cow and a brawney quay;[234]Ise gie tham au to my Marion,Just on her bridal day.20And yees get a grein sey[235]apron,And waistcote o' London broun;And wow bot ye will be vaporingQuhaneir ye gang to the toun.
Ime yong and stout, my Marion,25None dance lik mee on the greine;And gin ye forsak me, Marion,Ise een gae draw up wi' Jeane.Sae put on your pearlins,[236]Marion,And kirtle oth' cramasie;[237]30And sune as my chin has nae haire on,I sall cum west, and see yee.
FOOTNOTES:[229][the pens in which the ewes are milked.][230][gather in.][231][joy sparkles.][232]Hauss bane, i.e.The neck-bone. Marion had probably a silver locket on, tied close to her neck with a ribband, an usual ornament in Scotland; where a sore throat is called "a sair hause," properlyhalse.[233][loves.][234][young heifer.][235][woollen cloth.][236][a kind of lace made of thread or silk.][237][crimson.]
[229][the pens in which the ewes are milked.]
[229][the pens in which the ewes are milked.]
[230][gather in.]
[230][gather in.]
[231][joy sparkles.]
[231][joy sparkles.]
[232]Hauss bane, i.e.The neck-bone. Marion had probably a silver locket on, tied close to her neck with a ribband, an usual ornament in Scotland; where a sore throat is called "a sair hause," properlyhalse.
[232]Hauss bane, i.e.The neck-bone. Marion had probably a silver locket on, tied close to her neck with a ribband, an usual ornament in Scotland; where a sore throat is called "a sair hause," properlyhalse.
[233][loves.]
[233][loves.]
[234][young heifer.]
[234][young heifer.]
[235][woollen cloth.]
[235][woollen cloth.]
[236][a kind of lace made of thread or silk.]
[236][a kind of lace made of thread or silk.]
[237][crimson.]
[237][crimson.]
Thisballad (given from an old black-letter copy, with some corrections) was popular in the time of Q. Elizabeth, being usually printed with her picture before it, as Hearne informs us in his preface toGul. Neubrig. Hist.Oxon.1719, 8vo. vol. i. p. lxx. It is quoted in Fletcher's comedy of thePilgrim, act iv. sc. 2.
[It is also quoted inThe Knight of the Burning Pestle:
[It is also quoted inThe Knight of the Burning Pestle:
"He set her on a milk white steed." (l. 85.)
"He set her on a milk white steed." (l. 85.)
There are several Scottish versions given by Buchan, Kinloch, and Motherwell. The latter claims greater antiquity for his over Percy's. It appears, however, to be a southern ballad adapted by the Scotch and improved in its humour. The heroine practices various artifices to maintain the character of a "beggar's brat" when riding back withEarl Richard.]
There are several Scottish versions given by Buchan, Kinloch, and Motherwell. The latter claims greater antiquity for his over Percy's. It appears, however, to be a southern ballad adapted by the Scotch and improved in its humour. The heroine practices various artifices to maintain the character of a "beggar's brat" when riding back withEarl Richard.]
There was a shepherd's daughterCame tripping on the waye;And there by chance a knighte shee mett,Which caused her to staye.Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide,5These words pronounced hee:O I shall dye this daye, he sayd,If Ive not my wille of thee.The Lord forbid, the maide replyde,That you shold waxe so wode!10"But for all that shee could do or saye,He wold not be withstood."Sith you have had your wille of mee,And put me to open shame,Now, if you are a courteous knighte,15Tell me what is your name?Some do call mee Jacke, sweet heart,And some do call mee Jille;[238]But when I come to the kings faire courteThey call me Wilfulle Wille.20He sett his foot into the stirrup,And awaye then he did ride;She tuckt her girdle about her middle,And ranne close by his side.But when she came to the brode watèr,25She sett her brest and swamme;And when she was got out againe,She tooke to her heels and ranne.He never was the courteous knighte,To saye, faire maide, will ye ride?30"And she was ever too loving a maide"To saye, sir knighte abide.When she came to the kings faire courte,She knocked at the ring;So readye was the king himself35To let this faire maide in.Now Christ you save, my gracious liege,Now Christ you save and see,You have a knighte within your courteThis daye hath robbed mee.40What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart?Of purple or of pall?Or hath he took thy gaye gold ringFrom off thy finger small?He hath not robbed mee, my leige,45Of purple nor of pall:But he hath gotten my maiden head,Which grieves mee worst of all.Now if he be a batchelor,His bodye Ile give to thee;[239]50But if he be a married man,High hanged he shall bee.He called downe his merrye men all,By one, by two, by three;Sir William used to bee the first,55But nowe the last came hee.He brought her downe full fortye pounde,Tyed up withinne a glove:Faire maid, Ile give the same to thee;Go, seeke thee another love.60O Ile have none of your gold, she sayde,Nor Ile have none of your fee;But your faire bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee.Sir William ranne and fetchd her then65Five hundred pound in golde,Saying, faire maide, take this to thee,Thy fault will never be tolde.Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt,These words then answered shee,70But your own bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee.Would I had dranke the water cleare,When I did drinke the wine,Rather than any shepherds brat75Shold bee a ladye of mine!Would I had drank the puddle foule,When I did drink the ale,Rather than ever a shepherds bratShold tell me such a tale!80A shepherds brat even as I was,You mote have let me bee,I never had come othe kings faire courte,To crave any love of thee.He sett her on a milk-white steede,85And himself upon a graye;He hung a bugle about his necke,And soe they rode awaye.But when they came unto the place,Where marriage-rites were done,90She proved herself a dukes daughtèr,And he but a squires sonne.Now marrye me, or not, sir knight.Your pleasure shall be free:If you make me ladye of one good towne,95Ile make you lord of three.Ah! cursed bee the gold, he sayd.If thou hadst not been trewe.I shold have forsaken my sweet love,And have changed her for a newe.100And now their hearts being linked fast,They joyned hand in hande:Thus he had both purse, and person too,And all at his commande.
There was a shepherd's daughterCame tripping on the waye;And there by chance a knighte shee mett,Which caused her to staye.
Good morrowe to you, beauteous maide,5These words pronounced hee:O I shall dye this daye, he sayd,If Ive not my wille of thee.
The Lord forbid, the maide replyde,That you shold waxe so wode!10"But for all that shee could do or saye,He wold not be withstood."
Sith you have had your wille of mee,And put me to open shame,Now, if you are a courteous knighte,15Tell me what is your name?
Some do call mee Jacke, sweet heart,And some do call mee Jille;[238]But when I come to the kings faire courteThey call me Wilfulle Wille.20
He sett his foot into the stirrup,And awaye then he did ride;She tuckt her girdle about her middle,And ranne close by his side.
But when she came to the brode watèr,25She sett her brest and swamme;And when she was got out againe,She tooke to her heels and ranne.
He never was the courteous knighte,To saye, faire maide, will ye ride?30"And she was ever too loving a maide"To saye, sir knighte abide.
When she came to the kings faire courte,She knocked at the ring;So readye was the king himself35To let this faire maide in.
Now Christ you save, my gracious liege,Now Christ you save and see,You have a knighte within your courteThis daye hath robbed mee.40
What hath he robbed thee of, sweet heart?Of purple or of pall?Or hath he took thy gaye gold ringFrom off thy finger small?
He hath not robbed mee, my leige,45Of purple nor of pall:But he hath gotten my maiden head,Which grieves mee worst of all.
Now if he be a batchelor,His bodye Ile give to thee;[239]50But if he be a married man,High hanged he shall bee.
He called downe his merrye men all,By one, by two, by three;Sir William used to bee the first,55But nowe the last came hee.
He brought her downe full fortye pounde,Tyed up withinne a glove:Faire maid, Ile give the same to thee;Go, seeke thee another love.60
O Ile have none of your gold, she sayde,Nor Ile have none of your fee;But your faire bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee.
Sir William ranne and fetchd her then65Five hundred pound in golde,Saying, faire maide, take this to thee,Thy fault will never be tolde.
Tis not the gold that shall mee tempt,These words then answered shee,70But your own bodye I must have,The king hath granted mee.
Would I had dranke the water cleare,When I did drinke the wine,Rather than any shepherds brat75Shold bee a ladye of mine!
Would I had drank the puddle foule,When I did drink the ale,Rather than ever a shepherds bratShold tell me such a tale!80
A shepherds brat even as I was,You mote have let me bee,I never had come othe kings faire courte,To crave any love of thee.
He sett her on a milk-white steede,85And himself upon a graye;He hung a bugle about his necke,And soe they rode awaye.
But when they came unto the place,Where marriage-rites were done,90She proved herself a dukes daughtèr,And he but a squires sonne.
Now marrye me, or not, sir knight.Your pleasure shall be free:If you make me ladye of one good towne,95Ile make you lord of three.
Ah! cursed bee the gold, he sayd.If thou hadst not been trewe.I shold have forsaken my sweet love,And have changed her for a newe.100
And now their hearts being linked fast,They joyned hand in hande:Thus he had both purse, and person too,And all at his commande.
*
FOOTNOTES:[238][Jill is sometimes used as a woman's name and at other times as a man's.][239][Ver. 50.His bodye Ile give to thee.] This was agreeable to the feudal customs: The Lord had a right to give a wife to his vassals. See Shakespeare'sAll's well that ends well.
[238][Jill is sometimes used as a woman's name and at other times as a man's.]
[238][Jill is sometimes used as a woman's name and at other times as a man's.]
[239][Ver. 50.His bodye Ile give to thee.] This was agreeable to the feudal customs: The Lord had a right to give a wife to his vassals. See Shakespeare'sAll's well that ends well.
[239][Ver. 50.His bodye Ile give to thee.] This was agreeable to the feudal customs: The Lord had a right to give a wife to his vassals. See Shakespeare'sAll's well that ends well.
Thispoem, originally printed from the small MS. volume, mentioned above in No. X., has been improved by a more perfect copy inEngland's Helicon, where the author is discovered to beN. Breton.
Good Muse, rocke me aslepeWith some sweete harmony:This wearie eyes is not to kepeThy wary company.Sweete Love, begon a while,Thou seest my heavines:5Beautie is borne but to beguyleMy harte of happines.See howe my little flocke,That lovde to feede on highe,10Doe headlonge tumble downe the rocke,And in the valley dye.The bushes and the trees,That were so freshe and greene,Doe all their deintie colors leese,15And not a leafe is seene.The blacke birde and the thrushe,That made the woodes to ringe,With all the rest, are now at hushe,And not a note they singe.20Swete Philomele, the birdeThat hath the heavenly throte,Doth nowe, alas! not once affordeRecordinge of a note.The flowers have had a frost,25The herbs have loste their savoure;And Phillida the faire hath lost"For me her wonted" favour.Thus all these careful sights,So kill me in conceit;30That now to hope upon delights,It is but meere deceite.And therefore, my sweete Muse,That knowest what helpe is best,Doe nowe thy heavenlie conninge use35To sett my harte at rest:And in a dreame bewraieWhat fate shal be my frende;Whether my life shall still decaye,Or when my sorrowes ende.40
Good Muse, rocke me aslepeWith some sweete harmony:This wearie eyes is not to kepeThy wary company.
Sweete Love, begon a while,Thou seest my heavines:5Beautie is borne but to beguyleMy harte of happines.
See howe my little flocke,That lovde to feede on highe,10Doe headlonge tumble downe the rocke,And in the valley dye.
The bushes and the trees,That were so freshe and greene,Doe all their deintie colors leese,15And not a leafe is seene.
The blacke birde and the thrushe,That made the woodes to ringe,With all the rest, are now at hushe,And not a note they singe.20
Swete Philomele, the birdeThat hath the heavenly throte,Doth nowe, alas! not once affordeRecordinge of a note.
The flowers have had a frost,25The herbs have loste their savoure;And Phillida the faire hath lost"For me her wonted" favour.
Thus all these careful sights,So kill me in conceit;30That now to hope upon delights,It is but meere deceite.
And therefore, my sweete Muse,That knowest what helpe is best,Doe nowe thy heavenlie conninge use35To sett my harte at rest:
And in a dreame bewraieWhat fate shal be my frende;Whether my life shall still decaye,Or when my sorrowes ende.40
Isgiven (with corrections) from an ancient copy in black letter, in the Pepys collection, intitled,A tragical balladon the unfortunate love of lord Thomas and fair Ellinor,together with the downfall of the browne girl.—In the same collection may be seen an attempt to modernize this old song, and reduce it to a different measure: A proof of its popularity.
The reader will find a Scottish song on a similar subject to this, towards the end of this volume, intitled,Lord Thomas andLady Annet.
[This is one of the ballads still kept in print in Seven Dials, and Ritson describes it as having "every appearance of being originally a minstrel song."There is a series of ballads on the same subject—1.Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, (see book iii. No. 4.)2.Fair Margaret and Sweet William, (see book ii. No. 4.)3.Sweet Willie and Fair Annie, (Jamieson'sPopular Ballads, l. 22.)The last named ballad is a combination of the first two, the first part being similar toLord Thomas, and the second part toFairMargaret.]
[This is one of the ballads still kept in print in Seven Dials, and Ritson describes it as having "every appearance of being originally a minstrel song."
There is a series of ballads on the same subject—
1.Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, (see book iii. No. 4.)
2.Fair Margaret and Sweet William, (see book ii. No. 4.)
3.Sweet Willie and Fair Annie, (Jamieson'sPopular Ballads, l. 22.)
The last named ballad is a combination of the first two, the first part being similar toLord Thomas, and the second part toFairMargaret.]
Lord Thomas he was a bold forrestèr,And a chaser of the kings deere;Faire Ellinor was a fine womàn,And lord Thomas he loved her deare.Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, he sayd,5And riddle us both as one;Whether I shall marrye with faire Ellinòr,And let the browne girl alone?The browne girl she has got houses and lands,Faire Ellinor she has got none,10And therefore I charge thee on my blessìng,To bring me the browne girl home.And as it befelle on a high holidaye,As many there are beside,Lord Thomas he went to faire Ellinòr,15That should have been his bride.And when he came to faire Ellinors bower,He knocked there at the ring,And who was so readye as faire Ellinòr,To lett lord Thomas withinn.20What newes, what newes, lord Thomas, she sayd?What newes dost thou bring to mee?I am come to bid thee to my weddìng,And that is bad newes for thee.O God forbid, lord Thomas, she sayd,25That such a thing should be done;I thought to have been the bride my selfe,And thou to have been the bridegrome.Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, she sayd,[240]And riddle it all in one;30Whether I shall goe to lord Thomas his wedding,Or whether shall tarry at home?There are manye that are your friendes, daughtèr,And manye a one your foe,Therefore I charge you on my blessing,35To lord Thomas his wedding don't goe.There are manye that are my friendes, mothèr;But were every one my foe,Betide me life, betide me death,To lord Thomas his wedding I'ld goe.40She cloathed herself in gallant attire,And her merrye men all in greene;And as they rid through every towne,They took her to be some queene.But when she came to lord Thomas his gate,45She knocked there at the ring;And who was so readye as lord Thomàs,To lett faire Ellinor in.Is this your bride, fair Ellinor sayd?Methinks she looks wonderous browne;50Thou mightest have had as faire a womàn,As ever trod on the grounde.Despise her not, fair Ellin, he sayd,Despise her not unto mee;For better I love thy little fingèr,55Than all her whole bodèe.This browne bride had a little penknife,That was both long and sharpe,And betwixt the short ribs and the long,She prickd faire Ellinor's harte.60O Christ thee save, lord Thomas, hee sayd,Methinks thou lookst wonderous wan;Thou usedst to look with as fresh a colòur,As ever the sun shone on.Oh, art thou blind, lord Thomas? she sayd,65Or canst thou not very well see?Oh! dost thou not see my owne hearts bloodeRun trickling down my knee.Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side;As he walked about the halle,70He cut off his brides head from her shouldèrs,And threw it against the walle.He set the hilte against the grounde,And the point against his harte.There never three lovers together did meete,75That sooner againe did parte.
Lord Thomas he was a bold forrestèr,And a chaser of the kings deere;Faire Ellinor was a fine womàn,And lord Thomas he loved her deare.
Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, he sayd,5And riddle us both as one;Whether I shall marrye with faire Ellinòr,And let the browne girl alone?
The browne girl she has got houses and lands,Faire Ellinor she has got none,10And therefore I charge thee on my blessìng,To bring me the browne girl home.
And as it befelle on a high holidaye,As many there are beside,Lord Thomas he went to faire Ellinòr,15That should have been his bride.
And when he came to faire Ellinors bower,He knocked there at the ring,And who was so readye as faire Ellinòr,To lett lord Thomas withinn.20
What newes, what newes, lord Thomas, she sayd?What newes dost thou bring to mee?I am come to bid thee to my weddìng,And that is bad newes for thee.
O God forbid, lord Thomas, she sayd,25That such a thing should be done;I thought to have been the bride my selfe,And thou to have been the bridegrome.
Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, she sayd,[240]And riddle it all in one;30Whether I shall goe to lord Thomas his wedding,Or whether shall tarry at home?
There are manye that are your friendes, daughtèr,And manye a one your foe,Therefore I charge you on my blessing,35To lord Thomas his wedding don't goe.
There are manye that are my friendes, mothèr;But were every one my foe,Betide me life, betide me death,To lord Thomas his wedding I'ld goe.40
She cloathed herself in gallant attire,And her merrye men all in greene;And as they rid through every towne,They took her to be some queene.
But when she came to lord Thomas his gate,45She knocked there at the ring;And who was so readye as lord Thomàs,To lett faire Ellinor in.
Is this your bride, fair Ellinor sayd?Methinks she looks wonderous browne;50Thou mightest have had as faire a womàn,As ever trod on the grounde.
Despise her not, fair Ellin, he sayd,Despise her not unto mee;For better I love thy little fingèr,55Than all her whole bodèe.
This browne bride had a little penknife,That was both long and sharpe,And betwixt the short ribs and the long,She prickd faire Ellinor's harte.60
O Christ thee save, lord Thomas, hee sayd,Methinks thou lookst wonderous wan;Thou usedst to look with as fresh a colòur,As ever the sun shone on.
Oh, art thou blind, lord Thomas? she sayd,65Or canst thou not very well see?Oh! dost thou not see my owne hearts bloodeRun trickling down my knee.
Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side;As he walked about the halle,70He cut off his brides head from her shouldèrs,And threw it against the walle.
He set the hilte against the grounde,And the point against his harte.There never three lovers together did meete,75That sooner againe did parte.