Pitt Press Series
BALLADS AND POEMS
ILLUSTRATING ENGLISH HISTORY
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
tLotl&on FETTER LANE, E.G.
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THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA
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BALLADS AND POEMS
ILLUSTRATING ENGLISH HISTORY
Edited by FRANK SIDGWICK
CAMBRIDGE:
at the University Press
1913
PR
im
S5
Edition 1907 Reprinted 1907, 1908. 1909, 1912, 1913.
S72022
PEEFACE.
A NUMBER of the poems in this book are to be found in many similar collections of historical poems, and only the limits imposed by the law of copyright have prevented the inclusion of others, such as Tennyson's Revenge. It is hoped, however, that this deficiency may be more than compensated by the presence of many less hackneyed poems, and in particu lar of several fine ballads, some of which have hitherto not been put before young pupils. While it must be admitted that these are not conspicuous for historical fidelity, I venture to think that their literary interest is a distinct advantage for educational purposes; and a word or two of guidance to teachers who use this book may not be out of place.
Firstly, every piece is meant to be learned by heart, and half a dozen at least have tunes. Secondly, the distinctions between the " artistic " poems, the traditional ballads, and the "popular" contemporary songs, should be kept clearly in the pupil's mind. Thirdly, seeing that this mixture of styles has neces sitated an arrangement by chronological order of subject-matter, each piece should be so dealt with that
VI PREFACE
the pupil realises the conditions under which it was written. To this end I have added, to the notes on the "artistic" poems, short accounts of their respective authors, and have elaborated the notes on the tradi tional and "popular " poems and ballads. Proper handl ing of certain ballads will arouse interest in the methods of oral tradition. In the note to King John and the Abbot of Canterbury a hint, easily expanded, is given of the vogue which such folk-tales may enjoy. The poems by Hawker and Wolfe have interesting literary histories, which serve to demonstrate that " artistic " poems may occasionally undergo experiences similar to those of " popular " verse.
The best method of expounding each poem, accord ing as it narrates, disguises, or illustrates history, will be easily decided by the teacher, who will find that the fulness or paucity of the notes is in inverse ratio to the amount of information ordinarily accessible in history- books. Etymological notes are almost entirely omitted, in the belief that interest in the growth of a language is of later development than that interest in the growth of a nation and its literature which this book endeavours to stimulate.
F. S. January 1907.
CONTENTS.
A.D. PAOB
61 Boadicea W. COWPBB 1
1020 King Canute W. M. THACKERAY 3
1120 He Never Smiled Again .... MBS. HEMANS 8
King John and the Abbot of Canterbury . TBAD. BALLAD 9
1265 Lament for Simon de Montfort . Tu. BY G. ELLIS 13
Eobin Hood and the Three Squires . TBAD. BALLAD 16
Bold Eobin T. L. PEACOCK 20
1346 Durham Field TBAD. BALLAD 22
1388 Chevy Chase TBAD. BALLAD 31
1411 The Battle of Harlaw .... TBAD. BALLAD 41
1415 The Agincourt Song . . CONTEHPOBABY POEM 45
1415 King Henry Va Conquest of France . TBAD. BALLAD 46
1415 Agincourt M. DBAYTON 49
1480 The Bose of England . . . . TBAD. BALLAD 53
1511 Sir Andrew Barton TBAD. BALLAD 58
1513 Flodden Field TBAD. BALLAD 70
1513 Edinburgh after Flodden . . W. E. AYTOUN 72
1530 Dick o' the Cow TBAD. BALLAD 86
1568 Earl Bothwell TBAD. BALLAD 95
1569 The Rising in the North . . . TBAD. BALLAD 97
1584 Mary Ambree TBAD. BALLAD 103
158- Brave Lord Willoughby ..... ASON. 106
Vlll CONTENTS
A.D. PAGE
1588 The Armada ..... LORD MACAULAY 109
1588 The Defeat of the Spanish Armada . . ANON. 114
1595 The Fame of Sir Francis Drake . . • . ANON. 116
1605 Captain Ward and the Rainbow . . TRAD. BALLAD 116
1643 When the King enjoys his own again . M. PARKEB 120
1644 Sir Nicholas at Marston Moor . . W. M. PBAKD 122
1645 The Battle of Naseby . . . LOBD MACAULAY 125 1648 On the Lord General Fairfax . . JOHN MILTON 129 1650 Cromwell's Beturn from Ireland . . A. MAKVELL 130
1652 To Cromwell JOHN MILTON 134
1666 The Fire of London .... JOHN DRYDEN 135
1688 The Song of the Western Men . . B. S. HAWKER 140
1689 The Burial March of Dundee. . W. E. ATTOUN 141
1702 Admiral Benbow ANON. 145
1704 After Blenheim ..... B. SOCTHEY 147
1720 The Vicar of Bray ANON. 149
1773 The Boston Tea-Party ... O. W. HOLMES 152
1782 The Loss of the Royal George . . W. COWPER 155
1801 The Battle of the Baltic . . . T. CAMPBELL 157
1805 The Happy Warrior W. WORDSWOBTH 159
1807 Ye Mariners of England . . . . T. CAMPBELL 162
1809 The Burial of Sir John Moore . CHABLES WOLFS 164
1815 Waterloo LORD BYBON 165
1815 England's Dead MRS. HEMANS 169
1837 Victoria's Tears -. MBS. BROWNING 171
1852 Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington
LOBD TENNYSON 373
1854 The Charge of the Light Brigade . LOBD TENNYSON 182
NOTES 185
BALLADS AND POEMS
ILLUSTRATING ENGLISH HISTORY
BOADICBA (A.D. 61)
When the British warrior Queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods,
Sage beneath a spreading oak,
Sat the Druid, hoary chief, Every burning word he spoke
Full of rage, and full of grief.
"Princess! if our aged eyes
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 10
JTis because resentment ties
All the terrors of our tongues.
"Rome shall perish — write that word In the blood that she has spilt j
Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
8. 1
BALLADS AND POEMS
"Rome, for empire far renown' d, Tramples on a thousand states;
Soon her pride shall kiss the ground — Hark! the Gaul is at her gates 1 20
"Other Romans shall arise,
Heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize
Harmony the path to fame.
"Then the progeny that springs
From the forests of our land, Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings,
Shall a wider world command.
"Regions Caesar never knew
Thy posterity shall sway; 3°
Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they."
Such the bard's prophetic words,
Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords
Of his sweet but awful lyre.
She, with all a monarch's pride,
Felt them in her bosom glow: Rush'd to battle, fought, and died;
Dying, hurl'd them at the foe. 4°
"Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
Heaven awards the vengeance due;
Empire is on us bestow'd,
Shame and ruin wait for you."
WILLIAM COWPER.
KING CANUTE o
KING- CANUTE (1020)
King Canute was weary-hearted; he had reigned for
years a score, Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much
and robbing more; And he thought upon his actions, walking by the
wild sea-shore.
'Twixt the chancellor and bishop walked the king with
steps sedate, Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and
goldsticks great, Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages — all the officers
of state,
Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose
to pause; If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers
dropped their jaws; If to laugh the king was minded, out they burst in
loud hee-haws.
But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and young : 10
Thrice his grace had yawned at table, when his favourite gleemen sung,
Once the queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold her tongue.
1-2
4 BALLADS AND POEMS
" Something ails my gracious master," cried the keeper
of the seal. " Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner, or
the veal?" "Pshaw!" exclaimed the angry monarch. "Keeper,
'tis not that I feel.
" 'Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my
rest impair: Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no
care? Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary." — Some one cried,
" The king's arm-chair ! "
Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my lord the
keeper nodded, Straight the king's great chair was brought him, by
two footmen able-bodied; 20
Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably wadded.
"Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, "over
storm and brine, I have fought and I have conquered! Where was
glory like to mine ? " Loudly all the courtiers echoed : " Where is glory like
to thine?"
" What avail me all my kingdoms ? Weary am I
now and old ; Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead
and cold; Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent
mould 1
KING CANUTE 5
"Oil, remorse, the writhing serpent! at my bosom
tears and bites; Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all
the lights; Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed at
nights. 3°
"Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious
fires; Mothers weeping, virgins screaming vainly for their
slaughtered sires." — " Such a tender conscience," cries the bishop, " every
one admires.
" But for such unpleasant bygones, cease, my gracious
lord, to search, They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother
Church ; Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the
lurch.
" Look ! the land is crowned with minsters, which
your grace's bounty raised; Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven
are daily praised: You, my lord, to think of dying? on my conscience I'm
amazed ! "
" Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, " that my end is drawing near." 4°
" Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze a tear).
" Sure your grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty year."
6 BALLADS AND POEMS
" Live these fifty years ! " the bishop roared, with
actions made to suit. " Are you mad, my good lord keeper, thus to speak of
King Canute ! Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his majesty
will do 't
"Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahalaleel,
Methuselah, Lived nine hundred years apiece, and mayn't the king
as well as they?" " Fervently," exclaimed the keeper, " fervently I trust
he may."
" He to die ? " resumed the bishop. " He a mortal like
to us? Death was not for him intended, though communis
omnibus : 50
Keeper, you are irreligious, for to talk and cavil thus.
" With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can
compete, Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon
their feet; Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness
think it meet.
" Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon
the hill, And, the while he slew the f oemen, bid the silver moon
stand still ? So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his
sacred will."
KING CANUTE 7
" Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop ? "
Canute cried; "Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her
heavenly ride ? If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the
tide. 60
" Will the advancing waves obey me, bishop, if I make
the sign ? " Said the bishop, bowing lowly, " Land and sea, my
lord, are thine." Canute turned towards the ocean — " Back ! " he said,
" thou foaming brine !
" From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to
retreat ; Venture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy
master's seat : Ocean, be thou still ! I bid thee come not nearer to my
feet 1 "
But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper
roar, And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on
the shore; Back the keeper and the bishop, back the king and
courtiers bore.
And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay, 70
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey:
And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day.
W. M. THACKERAY.
BALLADS AND POEMS
HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN (1120)
The bark that held a prince went down,
The sweeping waves rolled on; And what was England's glorious crown
To him that wept a son? He lived — for life may long be borne
Ere sorrow break its chain; — Why comes not death to those who mourn ?-
He never smiled again!
There stood proud forms around his throne,
The stately and the brave; Bat which could fill the place of one,
That one beneath the wave ? Before him passed the young and fair,
In pleasure's reckless train; But seas dashed o'er his son's bright hair —
He never smiled again!
He sat where festal bowls went round,
He heard the minstrel sing; He saw the tourney's victor crowned
Amidst the knightly ring; A murmur of the restless deep
Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep —
He never smiled again!
HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN 9
Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace
Of vows once fondly poured; And strangers took the kinsman's place
At many a joyous board; Graves, which true love had bathed with tears,
Were left to Heaven's bright rain; 30
Fresh hopes were born for other years —
He never smiled again I
MBS. HEMANS.
KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY
An ancient story I'll tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John; And he ruled England with main and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintain'd little right.
And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry, Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury; How for his house-keeping, and high renown, They rode post for him to London town.
An hundred men, the king did hear say,
The abbot kept in his house every day; 10
And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,
In velvet coats waited the abbot about.
"How now, father abbot, I hear it of thee, Thou keepest a far better house than me, And for thy house-keeping, and high renown, I fear thou work'st treason against my crown."
10 BALLADS AND POEMS
" My liege," quo' the abbot, " I would it were known, I never spend nothing but what is my own; And I trust, your grace will do me no dere, For spending of my own true-gotten gear." 20
"Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is high, And now for the same thou needest must die; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.
"And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birth, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.
"Secondly, tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride the whole world about; 30 And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think."
"0, these are hard questions for my shallow wit, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet; But if" you will give me but three weeks' space, I'll do my endeavour to answer your grace."
"Now three weeks' space to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me." 4°
Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise.
KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY 11
Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, And he met his shepherd a going to fold: "How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home; What news do you bring us from good king John?"
"Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give; That I have but three days more to live : 50
For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my body.
"The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crown of gold so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so noble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth.
"The second, to tell him, without any doubt, How soon he may ride this whole world about: And at the third question I must not shrink, But tell him there truly what he does think." 60
"Now cheer up, sir abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learn a wise man wit? Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.
"Nay, frown not, if it hath been told unto me,
I am like your lordship as ever may be:
And if you will but lend me your gown,
There is none shall know us at fair London town."
"Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave; 70 With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appear 'fore our father the Pope."
12 BALLADS AND POEMS
"Now welcome, sir abbot," the king he did say, "'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day; For an if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both savSd shall be.
"And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birth, Tell me to one penny what I am worth." 80
"For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Among the false Jews, as I have been told; And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I think thou art one penny worser than he."
The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel, "I did not think I had been worth so little! — Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride this whole world about."
" You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until x the next morning he riseth again; 90
And then your grace need not make any doubt, But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about."
The king he laughed, and swore by St. John, "I did not think it could be gone so soon! — Now from the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think."
"Yea, that I shall do, and make your grace merry: You think I'm the abbot of Canterbury; But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for me." 100
KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY 13
The king lie laughed, and swore by the mass, "I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!" "Now nay, my liege, be not in such speed, For alack, I can neither write, nor read."
"Four nobles a week, then, I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me; And tell the old abbot when thou comest home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John."
Traditional Ballad.
LAMENT FOE SIMON DE MONTFORT (Battle of Evesham, 1265)
In song my grief shall find relief,
Sad is my verse and rude; I sing in tears our gentle peers
Who fell for England's good. Our peace they sought, for us they fought,
For us they dared to die; And where they sleep, a mangled heap,
Their wounds for vengeance cry.
On Evesham's plain is Montfort slain,
Well skilVd the war to guide; 10
Where streams his gore shall all deplore Fair England's flower and pride.
14 BALLADS AND POEMS
Ere Tuesday's sun its course had run
Our noblest chiefs had bled. While rush'd to fight each gallant knight,
Their dastard vassals fled. Still undismayed, with trenchant blade
They hew'd their desperate way: Not strength or skill to Edward's will,
But numbers gave the day. 20
On Evesham's plain, &c.
Yet, by the blow that laid thee low,
Brave earl, one palm was given; Nor less at thine than Becket's shrine
Shall rise our vows to heaven! Our church and laws, your common cause,
'Twas his the church to save, Our rights restor'd, thou, generous lord,
Shalt triumph in thy grave. On Evesham's plain, &c. 3°
Dispenser true, the good sir Hugh,
Our justice and our friend, Borne down with wrong, amidst the throng,
Has met his wretched end. Sir Henry's fate need I relate,
Our Leicester's gallant son, Or many a score of heroes more
By Gloucester's hate undone? On Evesham's plain, &c.
Each righteous lord who braved the sword, 4°
And for our safety died, With conscience pure shall aye endure,
Our martyr'd saint beside.
LAMENT FOB SIMON DE MONTFORT 15
That martyr'd saint was never faint
To ease the poor man's care; With gracious will he shall fulfil
Our just and earnest prayer.
On Evesham's plain, &c.
On Montfort's breast a hair-cloth vest
His pious soul proclaim'd; 50
With ruffian hand, the ruthless band
That sacred emblem maim'd : And, to assuage their impious rage,
His lifeless corpse defaced, Whose powerful arm long saved from harm
The realm his virtues graced.
On Evesham's plain, &c.
Brave martyr'd chief! no more our grief
For thee or thine shall flow; Among the bless'd in heaven ye rest 60
From all your toils below. But for the few, the gallant crew,
Who here in bonds remain, Christ condescend their woes to end,
And break the tyrant's chain !
On Evesham's plain, &c.
Tr. by G. Ellis.
16 BALLADS AND POEMS
There are twelve months in all the year,
As I hear many men say, But the merriest month in all the year
Is the merry month of May.
Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
With a link a down and a day, And there he met a silly old woman,
Was weeping on the way.
"What news, what news, thou silly old woman?
What news hast thou for me ? " 10
Said she, "There's three squires in Nottingham town
To-day is condemned to die."
" 0 what have they done ? " said Robin Hood,
"I pray thee tell to me." "It's for slaying of the King's fallow deer,
Bearing their long-bows with thee."
Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
With a link a down and a day, And there he met with a silly old palmer,
Was walking along the highway. 20
"What news, what news, thou silly old man?
What news, I do thee pray." Said he, "Three squires in Nottingham town
Are condemned to die this day."
ROBIN HOOD AND THE THREE SQUIRES 17
"Come, change thy apparel with me, old man,
Come, change thy apparel for mine; Here is forty shillings in good silver —
Go drink it in beer or wine."
"0 thine apparel is good," he said,
"And mine is ragged and torn; 30
Wherever you go, wherever you ride,
Laugh ne'er an old man to scorn."
"Come change thy apparel with me, old churl,
Come change thy apparel with mine; Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold,
Go feast thy brethren with wine."
Then he put on the old man's hat,
It stood full high on the crown: "The first bold bargain that I come at,
It shall make thee come down." 40
Then he put on the old man's cloak,
Was patched black, blue, and red; He thought no shame all the day long
To wear the bags of bread.
Then he put on the old man's breeks,
Was patched from side to side. "By the truth of my body," bold Robin can say,
"This man loved little pride."
Then he put on the old man's hose,
Were patched from knee to wrist: 50
"By the truth of my body," said bold Eobin Hood,
"I'd laugh if I had any list."
s. 2
18 BALLADS AND POEMS
Then he put on the old man's shoes, Were patched both beneath and aboon;
Then Eobin Hood swore a solemn oath, "It's good habit that makes a man."
Now Eobin Hood is to Nottingham gone,
With a link a down and a down, And there he met with the proud sheriff,
Was walking along the town. 60
"0 save, 0 save, O sheriff," he said,
"O save, and you may see; And what will you give to a silly old man
To-day will your hangman be?"
" Some suits, some suits," the sheriff he said,
"Some suits I'll give to thee; Some suits, some suits, and pence thirteen
To-day's a hangman's fee."
Then Robin he turns him round about,
And jumps from stock to stone; 70
"By the truth of my body," the sheriff he said,
"That's well jumpt, thou nimble old man."
"I was ne'er a hangman in all my life,
Nor yet intend to trade; But curst be he," said bold Robin,
"That first a hangman was made.
I've a bag for meal, and a bag for malt, And a bag for barley and corn; A bag for bread, and a bag for beef, And a bag for my little small horn. 80
ROBIN HOOD AND THE THREE SQUIRES 19
"I have a horn in my pocket,
I got it from Robin Hood; And still when I set it to my mouth,
For thee it blows little good."
"O wind thy horn, thon proud fellow,
Of thee I have no doubt; I wish that thou give such a blast
Till both thine eyes fall out."
The first loud blast that he did blow,
He blew both loud and shrill; 90
A hundred and fifty of Robin Hood's men
Came riding over the hill.
The next loud blast that he did give,
He blew both loud and amain; And quickly sixty of Robin Hood's men
Came shining over the plain.
"0 who are you?" the sheriff he said,
"Come tripping over the lee?" "They're my attendants," brave Robin did say,
"They'll pay a visit to thee." 100
They took the gallows from the slack,
They set it in the glen; They hang'd the proud sheriff on that,
Released their own three men.
Traditional Ballad.
2« — 6
20 BALLADS AND POEMS
BOLD ROBIN.
Bold Robin has robed him in ghostly attire, And forth he is gone like a holy friar,
Singing, hey down, ho down, down, derry down: And of two grey friars he soon was aware, Regaling themselves with dainty fare,
All on the fallen leaves so brown.
" Good morrow, good brothers," said bold Robin Hood, "And what make you in good greenwood?
Singing, hey down, ho down, down, derry down: Now give me, I pray you, wine and food; 10
For none can I find in the good greenwood,
All on the fallen leaves so brown."
"Good brother," they said, "we would give you full
fain, But we have no more than enough for twain,
Singing, hey down, ho down, down, derry down." " Then give me some money," said bold Robin Hood, "For none can I find in the good greenwood,
All on the fallen leaves so brown."
"No money have we, good brother," said they: "Then," said he, "we three for money will pray, 20
Singing, hey down, ho down, down, derry down: And whatever shall come at the end of our prayer, We three holy friars will piously share,
All on the fallen leaves so brown."
BOLD ROBIN 21
" We will not pray with thee, good brother, God wot ; For truly, good brother, thou pleases us not,
Singing, hey down, ho down, down, deny down." Then up they both started from Robin to run, But down on their knees Robin pulled them each one,
All on the fallen leaves so brown. 30
The grey friars prayed with a doleful face,
But bold Robin prayed with a right merry grace,
Singing, hey down, ho down, down, derry down: And when they had prayed, their portmanteau he
took, And from it a hundred good angels he shook
All on the fallen leaves so brown.
"The saints," said bold Robin, "have hearkened our
prayer,
And here's a good angel apiece for your share; If more you would have, you must win ere you wear,
Singing, hey down, ho down, down, derry down." 40 Then he blew his good horn with a musical cheer, And fifty green bowmen came trooping full near, And away the grey friars they bounded like deer,
All on the fallen leaves so brown.
T, L. PEACOCK.
22 BALLADS AND POEMS
DURHAM FIELD. (1346)
Lordings, listen and hold you still;
Hearken to me a little spell; I shall you tell of the fairest battle
That ever in England befell.
For as it befell in Edward the Third's days, In England, where he ware the crown,
Then all the chief chivalry of England They busked and made them boun.
They chosen all the best archers
That in England might be found, 10
And all was to fight with the King of France,
Within a little stound.
And when our King was over the water,
And on the salt sea gone, Then tidings into Scotland came
That all England was gone.
Bows and arrows they were all forth,
At home was not left a man But shepherds and millers both,
And priests with shaven crowns. 20
Then the King of Scots in a study stood,
As he was a man of great might; He sware he would hold his Parliament in leeve London,
If he could ride there right.
DURHAM FIELD 23
Then bespake a squire, of Scotland born,
And said "My liege, apace, Before you come to leeve London,
Full sore you'll rue that race.
"There been bold yeomen in merry England, Husbandmen stiff and strong; 30
Sharp swords they done wear, Bearen bows and arrows long."
The King was angry at that word;
A long sword out he drew, And there before his royal company
His own squire he slew.
Hard hansel had the Scots that day,
That wrought them woe enow, For then durst not a Scot speak a word
For hanging at a bough. 40
"The Earl of Anguish, where art thou?
In my coat-armour thou shalt be, And thou shalt lead the forward
Thorough the English country.
"Take thee York," then said the King,
"In stead whereas it doth stand; I'll make thy eldest son after thee
Heir of all Northumberland.
"The Earl of Vaughan, where be ye?
In my coat-armour thou shalt be; 50
The high Peak and Derbyshire
I give it thee to thy fee."
24 BALLADS AND POEMS
Then came in famous Douglas,
Says "What shall my meed be? And I'll lead the vanward, lord,
Thorough the English country."
"Take thee "Worcester," said the King,
"Tewkesbury, Kenilworth, Burton upon Trent;
Do thou not say another day But I have given thee lands and rent. 60
"Sir Richard of Edinburgh, where are ye?
A wise man in this war! I'll give thee Bristow and the shire
The time that we come there.
"My lord Neville, where been ye?
You must in these wars be; I'll give thee Shrewsbury," says the King,
"And Coventry fair and free.
"My lord of Hamilton, where art thou?
Thou art of my kin full nighj 70
I'll give thee Lincoln and Lincolnshire,
And that's enough for thee."
By then came in William Douglas,
As breme as any boar; He kneeled him down upon his knees,
In his heart he sighed sore.
Says "I have served you, my lovely liege,
These thirty winters and four, And in the Marshes between England and Scotland,
I have been wounded and beaten sore. 80
DUKHAM FIELD 25
"For all the good service that I have done,
What shall my meed be? And I will lead the vanward
Thorough the English country."
"Ask on, Douglas," said the King,
"And granted it shall be." " Why then, I ask little London," says Will Douglas,
"Gotten if that it be."
The King was wrath, and rose away;
Says "Nay, that cannot be! 90
For that I will keep for my chief chamber,
Gotten if it be.
"But take thee North Wales and Westchester,
The country all round about, And rewarded thou shalt be,
Of that take thou no doubt."
Five score knights he made on a day,
And dubb'd them with his hands; Rewarded them right worthily
With the towns in merry England. 100
And when the fresh knights they were made,
To battle they busk them boun; James Douglas went before,
And he thought to have won him shoon.
But they were met in a morning of May With the communalty of little England;
But there 'scaped never a man away, Through the might of Christes hand.
26 BALLADS AND POEMS
But all only James Douglas;
In Durham in the field no
An arrow struck him in the thigh;
Fast flings he towards the King.
The King looked toward little Durham,
Says "All things is not well! For James Douglas bears an arrow in his thigh,
The head of it is of steel.
"How now, James?" then said the King,
"How now, how may this be? And where been all thy merry men
That thou took hence with thee?" 120
"But cease, my King," says James Douglas,
"Alive is not left a man!" "Now by my faith," says the King of the Scots,
"That gate was evil gone.
"But I'll revenge thy quarrel well,
And of that thou may be fain; For one Scot will beat five Englishmen,
If they meeten them on the plain."
"Now hold your tongue," says James Douglas, "For in faith that is not so; 130
For one Englishman is worth five Scots, When they meeten together tho.
"For they are as eager men to fight
As a falcon upon a prey; Alas! if ever they win the vanward,
There scapes no man away."
DURHAM FIELD 27
"0 peace thy talking," said the King,
"They be but English knaves, But shepherds and millers both,
And priests with their staves." 140
The King sent forth one of his heralds of armes
To view the Englishmen. "Be of good cheer," the herald said,
"For against one we be ten."
"Who leads those lads?" said the King of Scots,
"Thou herald, tell thou me." - The herald said "The Bishop of Durham
Is captain of that company.
"For the Bishop hath spread the King's banner, And to battle he busks him boun." 150
"I swear by St Andrew's bones," says the King, "I'll rap that priest on the crown."
The King looked towards little Durham,
And that he well beheld, That the Earl Percy was well armed,
With his battle-axe entered the field.
The King looked again towards little Durham,
Four ancients there see he; There were two standards, six in a valley,
He could not see them with his eye. 160
My lord of York was one of them,
My lord of Carlisle was the other, And my lord Fluwilliams,
The one came with the other.
28 BALLADS AND POEMS
The Bishop of Durham commanded his men,
And shortly he them bade, That never a man should go to the field to fight
Till he had served his God.
Five hundred priests said mass that day
In Durham in the field, 170
And afterwards, as I heard say, They bare both spear and shield.
The Bishop of Durham orders himself to fight
With his battle-axe in his hand; He said "This day now I will fight
As long as I can stand!"
"And so will I," said my lord of Carlisle,
"In this fair morning gay." "And so will I," said my lord Fluwilliams,
"For Mary, that mild may." 180
Our English archers bent their bows
Shortly and anon; They shot over the Scottish host
And scantly touched a man.
" Hold down your hands," said the Bishop of Durham,
" My archers good and true." The second shoot that they shot,
Full sore the Scots it rue.
The Bishop of Durham spoke on high
That both parties might hear. 190
"Be of good cheer, my merry men all, The Scots flien and changen their cheer."
DURHAM FIELD 29
But as they saiden, so they diden,
They fell on heapes high; Our Englishmen laid on with their bows
As fast as they might dree.
The King of Scots in a study stood
Amongst his company; An arrow struck him thorough the nose,
And thorough his armoury. 200
The King went to a marsh-side
And light beside his steed; He leaned him down on his sword-hilts
To let his nose bleed.
There followed him a yeoman of merry England,
His name was John of Copland; "Yield thee, traitor!" says Copland then,
"Thy life lies in my hand."
"How should I yield me," says the King,
"And thou art no gentleman?" 210
"No, by my troth," says Copland there, "I am but a poor yeoman.
"What art thou better than I, sir King?
Tell me, if that thou can! What art thou better than I, sir King,
Now we be but man to man?"
The King smote angrily at Copland then,
Angrily in that stound; And then Copland was a bold yeoman,
And bore the King to the ground. 220
30 BALLADS AND POEMS
He set the King upon a palfrey,
Himself upon a steed; He took him by the bridle-rein,
Towards London he 'gan him lead.
And when to London that he came,
The King from France was new come home,
And there unto the King of Scots He said these words anon.
"How like you my shepherds and my millers?
My priests with shaven crowns?" 230
"By my faith, they are the sorest fighting men
That ever I met on the ground.
"There was never a yeoman in merry England But he was worth a Scottish knight."
"Ay, by my troth," said King Edward, and laugh, "For you fought all against the right."
But now the prince of merry England
Worthily under his shield Hath taken the King of France,
At Poictiers in the field. 240
The prince did present his father with that food,
The lovely King of France, And forward of his journey he is gone.
God send us all good chance !
" You are welcome, brother ! " said the King of Scots,
"For I am come hither too soon; Christ leve that I had taken my way
Unto the court of Rome!"
DURHAM FIELD 31
"And so would I," said the King of France, " When I came over the stream, 250
That I had taken my journey Unto Jerusalem!"
Thus ends the battle of fair Durham,
In one morning of May, The battle of Cre9y, and the battle of Poictiers,
All within one monthes day.
Then was wealth and welfare in merry England
Solaces, game, and glee, And every man loved other well,
And the King loved good yeomanry. 260
But God that made the grass to grow
And leaves on greenwood tree, Now save and keep our noble King,
And maintain good yeomanry!
Traditional Ballad.
CHEYY CHASE. (1388)
God prosper long our noble King,
Our lives and safeties all! A woeful Hunting once there did
In Chevy Chase befall.
To drive the deer, with hound and horn,
Earl Percy took the way; The child may rue, that is unborn,
The hunting of that day!
32 BALLADS AND POEMS
The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to G-od did make, 10
His pleasure in the Scottish woods, Three summer days to take;
The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase,
To kill and bear away. These tidings to Earl Douglas came
In Scotland, where he lay.
Who sent Earl Percy present word,
He would prevent his sport. The English Earl, not fearing that,
Did to the woods resort 20
With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might, Who knew full well, in time of need,
To aim their shafts aright.
The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deer. On Monday they began to hunt,
Ere daylight did appear;
And long before high noon they had
A hundred fat bucks slain: 30
Then, having dined, the droviers went To rouse the deer again.
The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,
The nimble deer to take, That with their cries the hills and dales
An echo shrill did make.
CHEVY CHASE 33
Lord Percy to the quarry went,
To view the tender deer, Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised once
This day to meet me here: 40
"But if I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay!" With that a brave young gentleman
Thus to the Earl did say:
" Lo ! yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright; Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight I
"All men of pleasant Tividale,
Fast by the river Tweed." 50
"0, cease your sports!" Earl Percy said,
"And take your bows with speed;
" And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance; For there was never champion yet,
In Scotland, nor in France,
"That ever did on horseback come,
But and if my hap it were, I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear!" 60
Earl Douglas, on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold, Rode foremost of his company,
Whose armour shone like gold.
34 BALLADS AND POEMS
" Show me," said he, " whose men ye be,
That hunt so boldly here — That, without my consent, do chase
And kill my fallow deer."
The first man that did answer make, Was noble Percy he, 70
Who said, "We list not to declare, Nor show whose men we be:
"Yet we will spend our dearest blood,
Thy chiefest harts to slay." Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say:
"Ere thus I will outbraved be,
One of us two shall die: I know thee well! An earl thou art;
Lord Percy, so am I. 80
"But, trust me, Percy, pity it were,
And great offence, to kill Any of these, our guiltless men,
For they have done no ill.
"Let thou and I the battle try;
And set our men aside." "Accursed be he," Earl Percy said,
" By whom it is denied ! "
Then stepped a gallant squire forth,
Witherington was his name, 90
Who said, "I would not have it told To Henry our King, for shame,
CHEVY CHASE 35
"That e'er my Captain fought on foot,
And I stood looking on. You be two earls," quoth Witherington,
"And I a squire alone.
"I'll do the best that do I may,
While I have power to stand: While I have power to wield my sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand." 100
Our English archers bent their bows, Their hearts were good and true.
At the first flight of arrows sent, Full fourscore Scots they slew.
To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Douglas bade on the bent. Two captains moved with mickle might;
Their spears to shivers went.
They closed full fast on every side;
No slackness there was found: no
But many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.
0 Christ! it was great grief to see,
How each man chose his spear, And how the blood out of their breasts
Did gush like water clear.
At last, these two stout earls did meet,
Like captains of great might; Like lions wood they laid on load,
And made a cruel fight: 120
3—2
36 BALLADS AND POEMS
They fought, until they both did sweat, With swords of tempered steel,
Till blood adown their cheeks like rain They trickling down did feel.
"0 yield thee, Percy," Douglas said, "And in faith I will thee bring,
Where thou shalt high advanced be, By James, our Scottish King!
"Thy ransom I will freely give,
And this report of thee — 130
Thou art the most courageous knight
That ever I did see!"
"No, Douglas," quoth Earl Percy then,
"Thy proffer I do scorn; I will not yield to any Scot
That ever yet was born!"
With that, there came an arrow keen
Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas on the breast
A deep and deadly blow; 140
Who never said more words than these,
"Fight on, my merry men all! Forwhy my life is at an end;
Lord Percy sees my fall!"
Then leaving life, Earl Percy took
The dead man by the hand, Who said, "Earl Douglas, for thy sake,
Would I had lost my land!
CHEVY CHASE 37
"0 Christ! my very heart doth bleed
For sorrow, for thy sake, 150
For, sure, a more redoubted knight Mischance could never take ! "
A knight amongst the Scots there was,
Which saw Earl Douglas die; Who straight in heart did vow revenge
Upon the Lord Percy.
Sir Hugh Montgomery was he called;
Who, with a spear full bright, Well mounted on a gallant steed,
Ran fiercely through the fight, 160
And passed the English archers all,
Without all dread or fear; And through Earl Percy's body then
He thrust his hateful spear.
With such a vehement force and might,
His body he did gore, The staff ran through the other side,
A large cloth-yard and more.
Thus did both those nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain; 170
An English archer then perceived
The noble earl was slain.
He had a good bow in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree. An arrow of a cloth-yard long
To the hard head haled he.
38 BALLADS AND POEMS
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery,
So right the shaft he set; The grey-goose wing that was thereon,
In his heart's blood was wet. 180
This fight from break of day did last
Till setting of the sun: For when they rang the evening bell,
The battle scarce was done.
With stout Earl Percy there was slain
Sir John of Egerton, Sir Eobert Radcliffe, and Sir John,
Sir James, that bold Baron.
And with Sir George and stout Sir James, Both knights of good account, 190
Good Sir Ralph Baby there was slain, Whose prowess did surmount.
For Witherington needs must I wail,
As one in doleful dumps, For when his legs were smitten off,
He fought upon his stumps.
And with Earl Douglas there were slain
Sir Hugh Montgomery; And Sir Charles Murray, that from field
One foot would never flee. 200
Sir Charles Murray of Ratcliffe, too,
His sister's son was he: Sir David Lamb, so well esteemed,
But saved he could not be.
CHEVY CHASE 39
And the Lord Maxwell, in like case,
Did with Earl Douglas die. Of twenty hundred Scottish speara
Scarce fifty-five did fly.
Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,
Went home but fifty-three; 210
The rest in Chevy Chase were slain,
Under the greenwood tree.
Next day did many widows come
Their husbands to bewail: They washed their wounds in brinish tears;
But all would not prevail.
Their bodies, bathed in purple blood,
They bore with them away. They kissed them, dead, a thousand times,
Ere they were clad in clay. 220
The news was brought to Edinborough, Where Scotland's king did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas suddenly Was with an arrow slain.
"0, heavy news!" King James did say,
"Scotland may witness be, I have not any captain more
Of such account as he!"
Like tidings to King Henry came,
Within as short a space, 230
That Percy of Northumberland,
Was slain in Chevy Chase.
40 BALLADS AND POEMS
"Now, God be with him!" said our King,
"Sith it will no better be; I trust I have, within my realm,
Five hundred as good as he.
"Yet shall not Scots, nor Scotland, say
But I will vengeance take; And be revenged on them all,
For brave Earl Percy's sake." 240
This vow the Bang did well perform
After, on Humbledown, In one day fifty knights were slain,
"With lords of great renown;
And of the rest, of small account,
Did many thousands die. Thus endeth the hunting in Chevy Chase,
Made by the Earl Percy.
God save our King; and bless this land With plenty, joy, and peace! 250
And grant henceforth, that foul debate 'Twixt noblemen may cease !
Traditional Ballad.
THE BATTLE OF HARLAW 41
THE BATTLE OF HAELAW. (1411)
As I cam in by Dunidier,
An' doun by Netherha', There was fifty thousand Hielan'men
A-marching to Harlaw.
Wi' a dree dree dradie drumtie dree.
As I cam on, an' farther on,
An' doun an' by Balquhain, Oh there I met Sir James the Rose,
Wi' him Sir John the G-ryme.
"O cam ye frae the Hielan's, man? 10
An' cam ye a' the wey? Saw ye Macdonell an' his men,
As they cam frae the Skee?"
"Yes, me cam frae ta Hielan's, man,
An' me cam a' ta wey, An' she saw Macdonell an' his men,
As they cam frae ta Skee."
"Oh was ye near Macdonell's men?
Did ye their numbers see ? Come, tell to me, John Hielan'man, 20
What micht their numbers be ? "
"Yes, me was near, an' near eneuch,
An' me their numbers saw; There was fifty thousan' Hielan'men
A-marchin' to Harlaw."
42 BALLADS AND POEMS
"Gin that be true," says James the Rose,
"We'll no come meikle speed; We'll cry upo' our merry men,
And lichtly mount our steed/'
"Oh no, oh no," says John the Gryme, 30
"That thing maun never be; The gallant Grymes were never bate,
We'll try phat we can dee."
As I cam on, an' farther on,
An' doun an' by Harlaw, They fell fu' close on ilka side;
Sic fun ye never saw.
They fell fu' close on ilka side,
Sic fun ye never saw; For Hielan' swords gi'ed clash for clash, 40
At the battle o' Harlaw.
The Hielan'men, wi' their lang swords,
They laid on us fu' sair, An' they drave back our merry men
Three acres breadth an' mair.
Brave Forbes to his brither did say,
" Noo, brither, dinna ye see ? They beat us back on ilka side,
An' we'se be forced to flee."
"Oh no, oh no, my brither dear, 50
That thing maun never be; Tak' ye your good sword in your hand,
An' come your wa's wi' me."
THE BATTLE OF HARLAW 43
"Oh no, oh no, my brither dear,
The clans they are ower strang, An' they drive back our merry men,
Wi' swords baith sharp an' lang."
Brave Forbes drew his men aside,
Said "Tak' your rest awhile, Until I to Drumminnor send, 60
To fess my coat o' mail."
The servant he did ride,
An' his horse it did na fail, For in twa hours an' a quarter
He brocht the coat o' mail.
Then back to back the brithers twa
Gaed in amo' the thrang, An' they hewed down the Hielan'men,
Wi' swords baith sharp an' lang.
Macdonell he was young an' stout, 70
Had on his coat o' mail, An' he has gane oot throw them a',
To try his han' himsell.
The first ae straik that Forbes strack,
He garrt Macdonell reel, An' the neist ae straik that Forbes strack,
The great Macdonell fell.
An' siccan a lierachie
I'm sure ye never saw As wis amo' the Hielan'men, 80
When they saw Macdonell fa'.
44 BALLADS AND POEMS
An' when they saw that he was deid,
They turn'd an' ran awa', An' they buried him in Leggett's Den,
A large mile frae Harlaw.
They rade, they ran, an' some did gang,
They were o' sma' record; But Forbes an' his merry men,
They slew them a' the road.
On Monanday, at mornin', 90
The battle it began, On Saturday, at gloamin',
Ye'd scarce kent wha had wan.
An' sic a weary buryin'
I'm sure ye never saw As wis the Sunday after that,
On the muirs aneath Harlaw.
Gin ony body speer at you
For them ye took awa', Ye may tell their wives and bairnies 100
They're sleepin' at Harlaw.
Traditional Ballad.
THE AGINCOUET SONG 45
THE AGINCOURT SONG. (1415)
Our king went forth to Normandy. With grace and might of chivalry; There God for him wrought marvellously. Wherefore England may call and cry
Deo gratias, Anglia,
Redde pro victoria !
He set a siege, the sooth for to say,
To Harfleur town with royal array.
That town he won, and made a fray
That France shall rue till Doomes-day. 10
Deo gratias, Anglia,
Redde pro victoria I
Then went our king, with all his host, Through France, for all the Frenche boast. He spared for dread of least nor most Till he came to Agincourt coast.
Deo gratias, Anglia,
Redde pro victoria!
Then went him forth our king comely,
In Agincourt Field he fought manly. 20
Through grace of God most marvellously
He had both field and victory.
Deo gratias, Anglia,
Redde pro victoria !
46 BALLADS AND POEMS
There lordes, earles, and baroune, Were slain and taken and that full soon, And some were brought into London, With joy and bliss and great renown.
Deo gratias, Anglia,
Redde pro victoria I 30
Almighty God, he keep our king, His people, and all his well-willing, And give them grace without ending I Then may we call and safely sing
Deo gratias, Anglia,
Redde pro victoria I
Contemporary Poem.
KING HENRY THE FIFTH'S CONQUEST OF FRANCE.
(1415)
As our king lay musing on his bed, He bethought himself upon a time
Of a tribute that was due from France, Had not been paid for so long a time.
He called for his lovely page,
His lovely page then called he, Saying, "You must go to the king of France,
To the king of France, sir, ride speedily."
KING HENRY THE FIFTH'S CONQUEST OF FRANCE 47
0 then went away this lovely page,
This lovely page then away went he; 10
And when he came to the king of France,
Low he fell down on his bended knee.
"My master greets you, worthy sir;
Ten ton of gold that is due to he, That you will send him his tribute home,
Or in French land you soon will him see."
"Your master's young and of tender years,
Not fit to come into my degree, And I will send him three tennis-balls,
That with them he may learn to play." 20
0 then returned this lovely page,
This lovely page then returned he, And when he came to our gracious king,
Low he fell down on his bended knee.
" What news, what news, my trusty page ?
What is the news you have brought to me ? " " I have brought such news from the king of France,
That you and he will never agree.
"He say you're young and of tender years,
Not fit to come into his degree, 30
And he will send you three tennis-balls, That with them you may learn to play."
"Eecruit me Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby Hills that are so .free ; No married man, nor no widow's son;
For no widow's curse shall go with me."
48 BALLADS AND POEMS
They recruited Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby Hills that are so free; No married man, nor no widow's son;
Yet there was a bold jovial company. 40
0 then we marched into the French land, With drums and trumpets so merrily;
And then bespoke the king of France, "Lo, yonder comes proud King Henry."
The first shot that the Frenchmen gave,
They killed our Englishmen so free; We killed ten thousand of the French,
And the rest of them they ran away.
And then we marched to Paris' gates,
With drums and trumpets so merrily; 50
0 then bespoke the king of France,
"The Lord have mercy on my men and me!
"01 will send him his tribute home,
Ten ton of gold that is due to he, And the finest flower that is in all France
To the Rose of England I will give free/'
Traditional Ballad.
AGINCOURT 49
AGINCOURT. (1415)
Fair stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train,
Landed King Harry.
And taking many a fort, Furnished in warlike sort, Marched towards Agincourt
In happy hour, Skirmishing day by day With those that stopped his way, Where the French gen'ral lay
With all his power :
Which, in his height of pride, King Henry to deride, His ransom to provide
To the king sending; Which he neglects the while As from a nation vile, Yet with an angry smile
Their fall portending.
s.
50 BALLADS AND POEMS
And turning to his men, Quoth our brave Henry then, "Though they to one be ten,
Be not amazed. Yet have we well begun, Battles so bravely won 30
Have ever to the sun
By fame been rais&d.
"And for myself," quoth he, " This my full rest shall be : England ne'er mourn for me,
Nor more esteem me; Victor I will remain Or on this earth lie slain; Never shall she sustain
Loss to redeem me. 40
"Poitiers and Cressy tell,
When most their pride did swell,
Under our swords they fell;
No less our skill is Than when our grandsire great; Claiming the regal seat, By many a warlike feat
Lopped the French lilies."
The Duke of York so dread
The eager vaward led; 50
With the main Henry sped,
Amongst his henchmen ; Excester had the rear, A braver man not there : 0 Lord, how hot they were
On the false Frenchmen !
AGINCOURT 51
They now to fight are gone, Armour on armour shone, Drum now to drum did groan,
To hear was wonder; 60
That with the cries they make The very earth did shake, Trumpet to trumpet spake,
Thunder to thunder.
Well it thine age became, 0 noble Erpingham, Which did the signal aim
To our hid forces! When from a meadow by, Like a storm suddenly, 70
The English archery
Struck the French horses.
With Spanish yew so strong, Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung,
Piercing the weather; None from his fellow starts, But playing manly parts, And like true English hearts
Stuck close together. 80
When down their bows they threw, And forth their bilbos drew, And on the French they flew,
Not one was tardy; Arms were from shoulders sent, Scalps to the teeth were rent, Down the French peasants went;
Our men were hardy.
4—2
52 BALLADS AND POEMS
This while our noble king,
His broadsword brandishing, 90
Down the French host did ding
. As to o'erwhelm it, And many a deep wound lent, His arms with blood besprent, And many a cruel dent Bruised his helmet.
Grlo'ster, that duke so good, Next of the royal blood, For famous England stood,
With his brave brother; 100
Clarence, in steel so bright, Though but a maiden knight, Yet in that furious fight
Scarce such another !
Warwick in blood did wade, Oxford the foe invade, And cruel slaughter made,
Still as they ran up; Suffolk his axe did ply,
Beaumont and Willoughby no
Bare them right doughtily,
Ferrers and Fanhope.
Upon Saint Crispin's Day Fought was this noble fray, Which fame did not delay,
To England to carry. O, when shall Englishmen With such acts fill a pen, Or England breed again
Such a King Harry ? 120
MICHAEL DRAYTON.
THE ROSE OF ENGLAND 58
THE ROSE OF ENGLAND. (1480)
Throughout a garden green and gay,
A seemly sight it was to see How flowers did flourish fresh and gay,
And birds do sing melodiously.
In the midst of a garden there sprang a tree, Which tree was of a mickle price,
And thereupon sprang the rose so red, The goodliest that ever sprang on rise.
This rose was fair, fresh to behold, Springing with many a royal lance;
A crowned king, with a crown of gold, Over England, Ireland, and of France.
Then came in a beast men call a boar, And he rooted this garden up and down;
By the seed of the rose he set no store, But afterwards it wore the crown.
He took the branches of this rose away, And all in sunder did them tear,
And he buried them under a clod of clay, Swore they should never bloom nor bear.
Then came in an eagle gleaming gay, Of all fair birds well worth the best;
He took the branch of the rose away, And bore it to Latham to his nest.
54 BALLADS AND POEMS
But now is this rose out of England exiled,
This certain truth I will not lain; But if it please you to sit awhile,
I'll tell you how the rose came in again.
At Milford Haven he entered in;
To claim his right was his delight; 30
He brought the blue boar in with him,
To encounter with the boar so white.
Then a messenger the rose did send To the eagle's nest, and bid him hie :
" To my father, the old eagle, I do me commend, His aid and help I crave speedily."
Says, "I desire my father at my coming
Of men and money at my need, And also my mother of her dear blessing;
The better then I hope to speed." 4°
And when the messenger came before th' old eagle, He. kneeled him down upon his knee,
Saith, "Well greeteth you my lord the rose, He hath sent you greetings here by me.
" Safe from the seas Christ hath him sent,
Now he is entered England within." " Let us thank God," the old eagle did say,
"He shall be the flower of all his kin.
"Wend away, messenger, with might and main;
It's hard to know who a man may trust; 50
I hope the rose shall flourish again,
And have all things at his own lust."
THE ROSE OF ENGLAND 55
Then Sir Rice ap Thomas draws Wales with him;
A worthy sight it was to see, How the Welshmen rose wholly with him,
And shogged them to Shrewsbury.
At that time was baily in Shrewsbury
One Master Mitton, in the town; The gates were strong, he made them fast,
And the portcullis he let down. 60
And through a garrett of the walls,
Over Severn these words said he; "At these gates no man enter shall;"
But he kept him out a night and a day.
These words Mitton did Earl Richmond tell (I am sure the chronicles will not lie) ;
But when letters came from Sir William Stanley, Then the gates were opened presently.
Then entered this town the noble lord,
The Earl Richmond, the rose so red ; 70
The Earl of Oxford with a sword
Would have smit off the bailiff's head.
"But hold your hand," says Earl Richmond, " For His love that died upon a tree !
For if we begin to head so soon,
In England we shall bear no degree."
"What offence have I made thee," said Earl Richmond, " That thou kept me out of my town ? "
"I know no king," said Mitton then,
"But Richard now that wears the crown." So
56 BALLADS AND POEMS
"Why, what wilt thou say," said Earl Richmond, "When I have put King Richard down?"
"Why, then I'll be as true to you, my lord, After the time that I am sworn."
"Were it not great pity," said Earl Richmond, "That such a man as this should die,
Such loyal service by him done?" (The chronicles of this will not lie.)
"Thou shalt not be harmed in any case" —
He pardoned him presently. 90
They stayed not past a night and a day, But towards Newport did they hie.
But at Atherstone these lords did meet;
A worthy sight it was to see How Earl Richmond took his hat in his hand,
And said, "Cheshire and Lancashire, welcome to me!"
But now is a bird of the eagle taken;
From the white boar he cannot flee; Therefore the old eagle makes great moan,
And prays to God most certainly. 100
"0 steadfast God, verament," he did say, " Three Persons in one God in Trinity,
Save my son, the young eagle, this day From all false craft and treachery 1"
Then the blue boar the vaiiward had;
He was both wary and wise of wit; The right hand of them he took,
The sun and wind of them to get.
THE ROSE OF ENGLAND 57
Then the eagle followed fast upon his prey,
With sore dints he did them smite; no
The talbot he bit wondrous sore, So well the unicorn did him quite.
And then came in the hart's head;
A worthy sight it was to see, The jackets that were of white and red,
How they laid about them lustily.
But now is the fierce field foughten and ended,
And the white boar there lieth slain, And the young eagle is preserved,
And come to his nest again. 120
But now this garden flourishes gay
With fragrant flowers comely of hue, And gardeners it do maintain;
I hope they will prove just and true.
Our king, he is the rose so red,
That now does flourish fresh and gay;
Confound his foes, Lord, we beseech,
And love his grace both night and day!
Traditional Ballad.
58 BALLADS AND POEMS
SIR ANDREW BARTON. (1511)
As it befell in midsummer-time, When birds sing sweetly on every tree,
Our noble king, King Henry the Eighth, Over the river of Thames passed he.
He was no sooner over the river,
Down in a forest to take the air, But eighty merchants of London city
Came kneeling before King Henry there.
"0 ye are welcome, rich merchants,
Good sailors, welcome unto me ! " 10
They swore by the rood they were sailors good,
But rich merchants they could not be.
"To France nor Flanders dare we not pass, Nor Bourdeaux voyage we dare not fare,
And all for a false robber that lies on the seas, And robs us of our merchants- ware."
King Henry was stout, and he turned him about, And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might ;
" I thought he had not been in the world throughout That durst have wrought England such unright." 20
But ever they sighed, and said, alas !
Unto King Henry this answer again; " He is a proud Scot that will rob us all
If we were twenty ships and he but one."
SIR ANDREW BARTON 59
The king looked over his left shoulder, Amongst his lords and barons so free;
" Have I never a lord in all my realm Will fetch yond traitor unto me ? "
" Yes, that dare 1 1 " said my lord Charles Howard, Near to the king whereas he did stand; 30
"If that your Grace will give me leave, Myself will be the only man."
"Thou shalt have six hundred men," saith our king, "And choose them out of my realm so free,
Besides mariners and boys,
To guide the great ship on the sea."
"I'll go speak with Sir Andrew," says Charles, my lord Howard,
"Upon the sea, if he be there; I will bring him and his ship to shore,
Or before my prince I will never come near." 40
The first of all my lord did call,
A noble gunner he was one; This man was three score years and ten,
And Peter Simon was his name.
"Peter," says he, "I must sail to the sea, To seek out an enemy; God be my speed 1
Before all others I have chosen thee;
Of a hundred gunners thou'st be my head."
" My lord," says he, " if you have chosen me
Of a hundred gunners to be the head, 50
Hang me at your mainmast tree
If I miss iny mark past three pence bread."
60 BALLADS AND POEMS
The next of all my lord he did call,
A noble bowman he was one; In Yorkshire was this gentleman born,
And William Horsley was his name.
"Horsley," says he, "I must sail to the sea, To seek out an enemy ; God be my speed !
Before all others I have chosen thee;
Of a hundred bowmen thou'st be my head." 60
"My lord," says he, "if you have chosen me Of a hundred bowmen to be the head,
Hang me at your mainmast tree
If I miss my mark past twelve pence bread."
With pikes, and guns, and bowmen bold, This noble Howard is gone to the sea
On the day before midsummer-even, And out at Thames' mouth sailed they.
They had not sailed days three
Upon their journey they took in hand, 70
But there they met with a noble ship,
And stoutly made it both stay and stand.
"Thou must tell me thy name," says Charles, my lord Howard,
"Or who thou art, or from whence thou came, Yea, and where thy dwelling is,
To whom and where thy ship does belong.'1
" My name," says he, " is Henry Hunt, With a pure heart and a penitent mindj
I and my ship they do belong
Unto the New-castle that stands upon Tyne-" 8o
SIR ANDREW BARTON 61
"Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt, As thou hast sailed by day and by night,
Hast thou not heard of a stout robber ? Men call him Sir Andrew Barton, knight."
But ever he sighed, and said, " Alas !
Full well, my lord, I know that wight; He robbed me of my merchants-ware,
And I was his prisoner but yesternight.
"As I was sailing upon the sea,
And Bourdeaux voyage as I did fare, 90
He clasped me to his arch-board,
And robbed me of all my merchants-ware.
"And I am a man both poor and bare, And every man will have his own of me,
And I am bound towards London to fare, To complain to my prince Henry."
"That shall not need," says my lord Howard;
"If thou canst let me this robber see, For every penny he hath taken thee fro,
Thou shalt be rewarded a shilling," quoth he. 100
"Now God forfend," says Henry Hunt, " My lord, you should work so far amiss :
God keep you out of that traitor's hands ! For you not full little what a man he is.
" He is brass within, and steel without,
And beams he bears in his top-castle strong;
His ship hath ordnance clean round about; Besides, my lord, he is very well manned.
62 BALLADS AND POEMS
"He hath a pinnace is dearly dight,
Saint Andrew's cross, that is his guide; no
His pinnace bears nine score men and more,
Besides fifteen cannons on every side.
"If you were twenty ships, and he but one,
Either in arch-board or in hall, He would overcome you every one,
And if his beams they do down fall."
"This is cold comfort," says my lord Howard, "To welcome a stranger thus to the sea;
I'll bring him and his ship to shore,
Or else into Scotland he shall carry me." 120
"Then you must get a noble gunner, my lord,
That can set well with his eye, And sink his pinnace into the sea,
And soon then overcome will he be.
" And when that you have done this, If you chance Sir Andrew for to board,
Let no man to his top-castle go ;
And I will give you a glass, my lord,
"And then you need to fear no Scot,
Whether you sail by day or by night; 130
And tomorrow, by seven of the clock,
You shall meet with Sir Andrew Barton, knight.
"I was his prisoner but yesternight,
And he hath taken me sworn," quoth he;
" 1 trust my Lord God will me forgive And if that oath then broken be.
SIR ANDREW BARTON 63
"You must lend me six pieces, my lord," quoth he,
" Into my ship, to sail the sea, And tomorrow, by nine of the clock,
Your Honour again then will I see." 140
And the hatch-board where Sir Andrew lay
Is hatched with gold dearly dight. "Now by my faith," says Charles, my lord Howard,
"Then yonder Scot is a worthy wight!
" Take in your ancients and your standards,
Yea, that no man shall them see, And put me forth a white willow wand,
As merchants use to sail the sea."
Bat they stirred neither top nor mast,
But Sir Andrew they passed by. 150
" What English are yonder," said Sir Andrew,
" That can so little courtesy ?
"I have been admiral over the sea
More than these years three; There is never an English dog, nor Portingale,
Can pass this way without leave of me.
"But now yonder pedlers they are past,
Which is no little grief to me; Fetch them back," says Sir Andrew Barton,
"They shall all hang at my mainmast tree." 160
With that the pinnace it shot off,
That my lord Howard might it well ken;
It struck down my lord's foremast, * And killed fourteen of my lord his men.
64 BALLADS AND POEMS
"Come hither, Simon," says my lord Howard, "Look that thy words be true thou said;
I'll hang thee at my mainmast tree If thou miss thy mark past twelve pence bread."
Simon was old, but his heart it was bold;
He took down a piece, and laid it full low; 170 He put in chain yards nine,
Besides other great shot less and moe.
With that he let his gunshot go ;
So well he settled it with his eye, The first sight that Sir Andrew saw,
He saw his pinnace sunk in the sea.
When he saw his pinnace sunk,
Lord! in his heart he was not well. " Cut my ropes, it is time to be gone ;
I'll go fetch yond pedlers back myself!" 180
When my lord Howard saw Sir Andrew loose,
Lord ! in his heart that he was fain. " Strike on your drums, spread out your ancients ;
Sound out your trumpets, sound out amain!"
"Fight on, my men," says Sir Andrew Barton, "Weet, howsoever this gear will sway,
It is my lord Admiral of England Is come to seek me on the sea."
Simon had a son; with shot of a gun,
Well Sir Andrew might it ken, 190
He shot it at a privy place,
And killed sixty more of Sir Andrew's men.
SIR ANDREW BARTON 65
Harry Hunt came in at the other side,
And at Sir Andrew he shot then; He drove down his foremast tree,
And killed eighty more of Sir Andrew's men.
"I have done a good turn," says Harry Hunt, "Sir Andrew is not our king's friend;
He hoped to have undone me yesternight, But I hope I have quit him well in the end." 200
" Ever alas ! " said Sir Andrew Barton,
" What should a man either think or say ?
Yonder false thief is my strongest enemy, Who was my prisoner but yesterday.
" Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,
And be thou ready at my call, And I will give thee three hundred pound,
If thou wilt let my beams down fall."
With that he swarved the mainmast tree,
So did he it with might and main; 210
Horsley, with a bearing arrow,
Strake the Gordon through the brain.
And he fell into the hatches again,
And sore of this wound that he did bleed;
Then word went through Sir Andrew's men That the Gordon he was dead.
"Come hither to me, James Hamilton,
Thou art my sister's son, I have no more;
I will give thee six hundred pound
If thou will let my beams down fall." 220
s. 5
66 BALLADS AND POEMS
With that he swarved the mainmast tree,
So did he it with might and main; Horsley, with another broad arrow,
Strake the yeoman through the brain.
That he fell down to the hatches again;
Sore of his wound that he did bleed. Covetousness gets no gain,
It is very true as the Welshman said.
But when he saw his sister's son slain,
Lord! in his heart he was not well. 230
"Go fetch me down my armour of proof,
For I will to the top-castle myself.
"Go fetch me down my armour of proof,
For it is gilded with gold so clear; God be with my brother, John of Barton !
Amongst the Portingales he did it wear."
But when he had his armour of proof,
And on his body he had it on, Every man that looked at him
Said, gun nor arrow he need fear none. 240
"Come hither, Horsley," says my lord Howard, "And look your shaft that it go right;
Shoot a good shoot in the time of need, And for thy shooting thou'st be made a knight."
"I'll do my best," says Horsley then,
"Your honour shall see before I go; If I should be hanged at your mainmast,
I have in my ship but arrows two."
SIR ANDREW BARTON 67
But at Sir Andrew he shot then;
He made sure to hit his mark; 250
Under the spole of his right arm
He smote Sir Andrew quite through the heart.
Yet from the tree he would not start,
But he dinged to it with might and main;
Under the collar then of his jack
He strake Sir Andrew through the brain.
"Fight on, my men," says Sir Andrew Barton,
"I am hurt, but I am not slain; I'll lay me down and bleed awhile,
And then I'll rise and fight again. 260
"Fight on, my men," says Sir Andrew Barton, "These English dogs they bite so low;
Fight on for Scotland and Saint Andrew Till you hear my whistle blow 1 "
But when they could not hear his whistle blow,
Says Harry Hunt, "I'll lay my head You may board yonder noble ship, my lord,
For I know Sir Andrew he is dead."
With that they boarded this noble ship,
So did they it with might and main; 270
They found eighteen score Scots alive, Besides the rest were maimed and slain.
My Lord Howard took a sword in his hand,
And smote off Sir Andrew's head ; The Scots stood by did weep and mourn,
But never a word durst speak or say.
5—2
68 BALLADS AND POEMS
He caused his body to be taken down,
And over the hatch-board cast into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crowns:
"Wheresoever thou lands, it will bury thee." 280
With his head they sailed into England again, With right good will and force and main,
And the day before New Year's Even Into Thames' mouth they came again.
My Lord Howard wrote to King Henry's grace, With all the news he could him bring :
" Such a New Year's gift I have brought your Grace As never did subject to any king.
"For merchandise and manhood,
The like is not to be found; 290
The sight of these would do you good,
For you have not the like in your English ground."
But when he heard tell that they were come, Full royally he welcomed them home;
Sir Andrew's ship was the King's New Year's gift ; A braver ship you never saw none.
Now hath our King Sir Andrew's ship, Beset with pearls and precious stones;
Now hath England two ships of war —
Two ships of war, before but one. 300
" Who holp to this ? " says King Henry, "That I may reward him for his pain."
" Harry Hunt, and Peter Simon, William Horsley, and i the same."
SIR ANDREW BARTON 69
"Harry Hunt shall have his whistle and chain, And all his jewels, whatsoever they be,
And other rich gifts that I will not name, For his good service he hath done me.
"Horsley, right thou'st be a knight,
Lands and livings thou shalt have store; 310
Howard shall be Earl of Nottingham,
And so was never Howard before.
" Now, Peter Simon, thou art old ;
I will maintain thee and thy son; Thou shalt have five hundred pound all in gold
For the good service that thou hast done."
Then King Henry shifted his room;
In came the Queen and ladies bright; Other errands they had none
But to see Sir Andrew Barton, knight. 320
But when they see his deadly face,
His eyes were hollow in his head; " I would give a hundred pound," says King Henry,
" The man were alive as he is dead 1
"Yet for the manful part that he hath played,
Both here and beyond the sea, His men shall have half a crown a day
To bring them to my brother, King Jamie."
Traditional Ballad.
70 BALLADS AND POEMS
FLODDEN FIELD. (1513)
King Jamie hath made a vow,
Keep it well if he may! That he will be at lovely London
Upon Saint James his day.
"Upon Saint James his day at noon,
At fair London will I be, And all the lords in merry Scotland,
They shall dine there with me."
Then bespake good Queen Margaret, The tears fell from her eye: 10
"Leave off these wars, most noble King, Keep your fidelity.
"The water runs swift and wondrous deep,
From bottom unto the brim; My brother Henry hath men good enough;
England is hard to win."
"Away," quoth he, "with this silly fool!
In prison fast let her lie: For she is come of the English blood,
And for those words she shall die." 20
With that bespake Lord Thomas Howard, The queen's chamberlain that day:
"If that you put Queen Margaret to death, Scotland shall rue it alway."
FLODDEN FIELD 71
Then in a rage King James did say,
"Away with this foolish mome! He shall be hanged, and the other be burned,
So soon as I come home."
At Flodden Field the Scots came in,
Which made our English men fain; 3°
At Bramstone Green this battle was seen, There was King Jamie slain.
Then presently the Scots did fly,
Their cannons they left behind; Their ensigns gay were won all away,
Our soldiers did beat them blind.
To tell you plain, twelve thousand were slain
That to the fight did stand, And many prisoners took that day,
The best in all Scotland. 40
That day made many a fatherless child,
And many a widow poor, And many a Scottish gay lady
Sat weeping in her bower.
Jack with a feather was lapt all in leather,
His boastings were all in vain; He had such a chance, with a new morrice dance,
He never went home again.
Traditional Ballad.
72 BALLADS AND POEMS
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. (1513)
I.
News of battle ! — news of battle !
Hark! 'tis ringing down the street: And the archways and the pavement
Bear the clang of hurrying feet. News of battle ! who hath brought it ?
News of triumph? Who should bring Tidings from our noble army,
Greetings from our gallant King? AH last night we watched the beacons
Blazing on the hills afar, 10
Each one bearing, as it kindled,
Message of the opened war. All night long the northern streamers
Shot across the trembling sky: „ Fearful lights that never beacon
Save when kings or heroes die.
II.
News of battle! Who hath brought it?
All are thronging to the gate; "Warder — warder! open quickly!
Man — is this a time to wait?" 20
And the heavy gates are opened:
Then a murmur long and loud, And a cry of fear and wonder
Bursts from out the bending crowd.
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 73
For they see in battered harness
Only one hard-stricken man; And his weary steed is wounded,
And his cheek is pale and wan: Spearless hangs a bloody banner
In his weak and drooping hand — 30
God! can that be Randolph Murray,
Captain of the city band?
III.
Round him crush the people, crying,
"Tell us all— oh, tell us true! Where are they who went to battle,
Randolph Murray, sworn to you? Where are they, our brothers — children?
Have they met the English foe? Why art thou alone, unfollowed?
Is it weal or is it woe?" 40
Like a corpse the grisly warrior
Looks from out his helm of steel; But no word he speaks in answer —
Only with his armed heel Chides his weary steed, and onward
Up the city streets they ride; Fathers, sisters, mothers, children,
Shrieking, praying by his side. "By the God that made thee, Randolph!
Tell us what mischance hath come." 50
Then he lifts his riven banner,
And the asker's voice is dumb.
74 BALLADS AND POEMS
IV.
The elders of the city
Have met within their hall — The men whom good King James had charged
To watch the tower and wall. "Your hands are weak with age," he said,
"Your hearts are stout and true; So bide ye in the Maiden Town,
While others fight for you. 60
My trumpet from the Border-side
Shall send a blast so clear, That all who wait within the gate
That stirring sound may hear. Or, if it be the will of Heaven
That back I never come, And if, instead of Scottish shouts,
Ye hear the English drum, — Then let the warning bells ring out,
Then gird you to the fray, 7°
Then man the walls like burghers stout,
And fight while fight you may. 'Twere better that in fiery flame
The roofs should thunder down, Than that the foot of foreign foe
Should trample in the town!"
Y.
Then in came Randolph Murray, —
His step was slow and weak. And, as he doffed his dinted helm,
The tears ran down his cheek: 80
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 75
They fell upon his corslet
And on his mailed hand, As he gazed around him wistfully,
Leaning sorely on his brand. And none who then beheld him
But straight were smote with fear, For a bolder and a sterner man
Had never couched a spear. They knew so sad a messenger
Some ghastly news must bring; 90
And all of them were fathers,
And their sons were with the King.
VL
And up then rose the Provost —
A brave old man was he, Of ancient name, and knightly fame,
And chivalrous degree. He ruled our city like a Lord
Who brooked no equal here, And ever for the townsman's rights
Stood up 'gainst prince and peer. And he had seen the Scottish host
March from the Borough-muir, With music-storm and clamorous shout, And all the din that thunders out
When youth 's of victory sure. But yet a dearer thought had he, —
For, with a father's pride, He saw his last remaining son
Go forth by Randolph's side,
76 BALLADS AND POEMS
With casque on head and spur on heel, no
All keen to do and dare; And proudly did that gallant boy
Dunedin's banner bear. Oh! woeful now was the old man's look,
And he spake right heavily — "Now, Randolph, tell thy tidings,
However sharp they be! Woe is written on thy visage,
Death is looking from thy face: Speak ! though it be of overthrow — 120
It cannot be disgrace I "
vn.
Bight bitter was the agony
That wrung that soldier proud: Thrice did he strive to answer, „ And thrice he groaned aloud. Then he gave the riven banner
To the old man's shaking hand, Saying — "That is all I bring ye
From the bravest of the land! Ay! ye may look upon it — 130
It was guarded well and long, By your brothers and your children,
By the valiant and the strong. One fey one they fell around it,
As the archers laid them low, Grimly dying, still unconquered,
With their faces to the foe.
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 77
Ay! ye may well look upon it —
There is more than honour there, Else, be sure, I had not brought it 140
From the field of dark despair. Never yet was royal banner
Steeped in such a costly dye; It hath lain upon a bosom
Where no other shroud shall lie. Sirs ! I charge you, keep it holy ;
Keep it as a sacred thing, For the stain ye see upon it
Was the life-blood of your King!"
VIII.
Woe, and woe, and lamentation! 150
What a piteous cry was there! Widows, maidens, mothers, children,
Shrieking, sobbing in despair! Through the streets the death-word rushes,
Spreading terror, sweeping on — "Jesu Christ! our King has fallen —
0 Great God, King James is gone! Holy Mother Mary, shield us,
Thou who erst didst lose thy Son! 0 the blackest day for Scotland 160
That she ever knew before ! 0 our King — the good, the noble,
Shall we see him never more ? Woe to us, and woe to Scotland!
0 our sons, our sons and men! Surely some have 'scaped the Southron,
Surely some will come again!"
78 BALLADS AND POEMS
Till the oak that fell last winter Shall uprear its shattered stem—
Wives and mothers of Dunedin — 170
Ye may look in vain for them!
IX.
But within the Council Chamber
All was silent as the grave, Whilst the tempest of their sorrow
Shook the bosoms of the brave. Well indeed might they be shaken
With the weight of such a blow: He was gone — their prince, their idol,
Whom they loved and worshipped so! Like a knell of death and judgement 180
Rung from heaven by angel hand, Fell the words of desolation
On the elders of the land. Hoary heads were bowed and trembling,
Withered hands were clasped and wrung; ^God had left the old and feeble,
He had ta'en away the young.
X.
Then the Provost he uprose,
And his lip was ashen white; But a flush was on his brow, 190
And his eye was full of light. "Thou hast spoken, Randolph Murray,
Like a soldier stout and true; Thou hast done a deed of daring
Had been perilled but by few.
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 79
For thou hast not shamed to face us,
Nor to speak thy ghastly tale, Standing — thou a knight and captain —
Here, alive within thy mail! Now, as my God shall judge me, 200
I hold it braver done, Than hadst thou tarried in thy place,
And died above my son! Thou needst not tell it: he is dead.
Grod help us all this day! But speak — how fought the citizens
Within the furious fray? For by the might of Mary,
'Twere something still to tell That no Scottish foot went backward 210
When the Royal Lion felll"
XI.
"No one failed him. He is keeping
Royal state and semblance still; Knight and noble lie around him,
Cold on Flodden's fatal hill. Of the brave and gallant-hearted,
Whom you sent with prayers away, Not a single man departed
From his Monarch yesterday. Had you seen them, 0 my masters!
When the night began to fall, And the English spearmen gathered
Round a grim and ghastly wall!
80 BALLADS AND POEMS
As the wolves in winter circle
Round the leaguer on the heath, So the greedy foe glared upward,
Panting still for blood and death. But a rampart rose before them,
Which the boldest dared not scale; Every stone a Scottish body, 230
Every step a corpse in mail! And behind it lay our Monarch,
Clenching still his shivered sword; By his side Montrose and Athole,
At his feet a Southron lord. All so thick they lay together,
When the stars lit up the sky, That I knew not who were stricken,
Or who yet remained to die. Few there were when Surrey halted, 240
And his wearied host withdrew; None but dying men around me,
When the English trumpet blew. ^Then I stooped, and took the banner,
As you see it, from his breast, And I closed our hero's eyelids,
And I left him to his rest. In the mountains growled the thunder,
As I leaped the woeful wall, And the heavy clouds were settling 250
Over Flodden, like a pall."
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 81
XII.
So he ended. And the others
Cared not any answer then; Sitting silent, dumb with sorrow,
Sitting anguish-struck, like men Who have seen the roaring torrent
Sweep their happy homes away, And yet linger by the margin,
Staring wildly on the spray. But, without, the maddening tumult 260
Waxes ever more and more, And the crowd of wailing women
Gather round the Council door. Every dusky spire is ringing
With a dull and hollow knell, And the Miserere's singing
To the tolling of the bell. Through the streets the burghers hurry,
Spreading terror as they go; And the rampart's thronged with watchers 270
For the coming of the foe. From each mountain-top a pillar
Streams into the torpid air, Bearing token from the Border
That the English host is there. All without is flight and terror,
All within is woe and fear — God protect thee, Maiden City,
For thy latest hour is near!
82 BALLADS AND POEMS
xm.
No! not yet, thou high Dunedin! 2^0
Shalt thou totter to thy fall; Though thy bravest and thy strongest
Are not there to man the wall. No, not yet! the ancient spirit
Of our fathers hath not gone; Take it to thee as a buckler
Better far than steel or stone. Oh, remember those who perished
For thy birthright at the time When to be a Scot was treason, 290
And to side with Wallace crime ! Have they not a voice among us,
Whilst their hallowed dust is here ? Hear ye not a summons sounding
From each buried warrior's bier? Up! — they say — and keep the freedom
Which we won you long ago: Up ! and keep our graves unsullied
From the insults of the foe! Up! and if ye cannot save them, 300
Come to us in blood and fire: Midst the crash of falling turrets
Let the last of Scots expire 1
XIV.
Still the bells are tolling fiercely,
And the cry comes louder in; Mothers wailing for their children,
Sisters for their slaughtered kin.
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 83
All is terror and disorder;
Till the Provost rises up, Calm, as though he had not tasted 310
Of the fell and bitter cup. All so stately from his sorrow,
Rose the old undaunted chief, That you had not deemed, to see him,
His was more than common grief. " Rouse ye, Sirs ! " he said ; " we may not
Longer mourn for what is done; If our King be taken from us,
We are left to guard his son. We have sworn to keep the city 320
From the foe, whate'er they be, And the oath that we have taken
Never shall be broke by me. Death is nearer to us, brethren,
Than it seemed to those who died, Fighting yesterday at Flodden,
By their lord and master's side. Let us meet it then in patience,
Not in terror or in fear; Though our hearts are bleeding yonder, 330
Let our souls be steadfast here. Up, and rouse ye! Time is fleeting,
And we yet have much to do; Up! and haste ye through the city,
Stir the burghers stout and true ! Gather all our scattered people,
Fling the banner out once more, — Randolph Murray! do thou bear it,
As it erst was borne before: Never Scottish heart will leave it, 340
When they see their Monarch's gore!
6—2
84 BALLADS AND POEMS
XV.
"Let them cease that dismal knelling!
It is time enough to ring, When the fortress-strength of Scotland
Stoops to ruin like its King. Let the bells be kept for warning,
Not for terror or alarm; When they next are heard to thunder,
Let each man and stripling arm. Bid the women leave their wailing — 350
Do they think that woeful strain, From the bloody heaps of Flodden,
Can redeem their dearest slain? Bid them cease, — or rather hasten
To the churches every one; There to pray to Mary Mother,
And to her anointed Son, That the thunderbolt above us
May not fall in ruin yet; That in fire and blood and rapine 360
Scotland's glory may not set. Let them pray, — for never women
Stood in need of such a prayer! — England's yeomen shall not find them
Clinging to the altars there. No ! if we are doomed to perish,
Man and maiden, let us fall, And a common gulf of ruin
Open wide to whelm us all! Never shall the ruthless spoiler 370
Lay his hot insulting hand On the sisters of our heroes,
Whilst we bear a torch or brand!
EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN 85
Up! and rouse ye, then, my brothers, —
But when next ye hear the bell Sounding forth the sullen summons
That may be our funeral knell, Once more let us meet together,
Once more see each other's face; Then, like men that need not tremble, 380
Go to our appointed place. God, our Father, will not fail us,
In that last tremendous hour, — If all other bulwarks crumble,
HE will be our strength and tower: Though the ramparts rock beneath us,
And the walls go crashing down, Though the roar of conflagration
Bellow o'er the sinking town; There is yet one place of shelter, 390
Where the foemen cannot come, Where the summons never sounded
Of the trumpet or the drum. There again we'll meet our children,
Who, on Flodden's trampled sod, For their King and for their country
Rendered up their souls to God. There shall we find rest and refuge
With our dear departed brave; And the ashes of the city 400
Be our universal grave!"
W. E. AYTOUN.
86 BALLADS AND POEMS
DICK 0' THE COW. (c. 1530)
Now Liddesdale has long lain in,
There is no riding there at a'; Their horse is growing so lidder and fat
That are lazy in the sta'.
Then Johnnie Armstrong to Willie can say,
"Billie, a riding then will we; England and us has been long at a feed;
Perhaps we may hit of some bootie."
Then they're corned on to Hutton Hall,
They rade that proper place about; 10
But the laird he was the wiser man, For he had left nae gear without.
Then he had left nae gear to steal,
Except six sheep upon a lea; Says Johnnie, "I'd rather in England die,
Before their six sheep gaed to Liddesdale with me.
"But how call'd they the man we last with met,
Billie, as we came over the know ? " "That same he is an innocent fool,
And some men calls him Dick o' the Cow." 20
"That fool has three as good kine of his own As is in a' Cumberland, billie," quoth he;
"Betide my life, betide my death, These three kine shall go to Liddesdale with me."
DICK O' THE COW 87
Then they're coined on to the poor fool's house, And they have broken his walls so wide;
They have loosed out Dick o' the CoVs kine three, And ta'en three co'erlets off his wife's bed.
Then on the morn, when the day grew light,
The shouts and cries rose loud and high; 30
"Hold thy tongue, my wife," he says, "And of thy crying let me be.
"Hold thy tongue, my wife," he says,
"And of thy crying let me be, And ay that where thou wants a cow,
Good sooth that I shall bring thee three."
Then Dick's corned on to lord and master,
And I wat a dreary fool was he; " Hold thy tongue, my fool," he says,
"For I may not stand to jest with thee." 40
" Shame speed a' your jesting, my lord," quo' Dickie, "For nae such jesting Agrees with me;
Liddesdale has been in my house this last night, And they have ta'en my three kine from me.'/
"But I may nae langer in Cumberland dwell,
To be your poor fool and your leal, Unless ye give me leave, my lord,
To go to Liddesdale and steal."
"To give thee leave, my fool," he says,
"Thou speaks against mine honour and me; 50 Unless thou give me thy troth and thy right hand,
Thou'll steal frae nane but them that sta' from thee."
88 BALLADS AND POEMS
"There is my troth and my right hand;
My head shall hing on Hairibee, I'll never cross Carlisle sands again,
If I steal frae a man but them that sta' frae me."
Dickie has ta'en leave at lord and master,
And I wot a merry fool was he; He has bought a bridle and a pair of new spurs,
And has packed them up in his breek-thigh. 60
Then Dickie's come on for Puddinburn,
Even as fast as he may dree; Dickie 's come on for Puddinburn,
Where . there was thirty Armstrongs and three.
" What 's this corned on me ! " quo' Dickie,
" What mickle wae 's this happen'd on me," quo' he,
"Where here is but an innocent fool,
And there is thirty Armstrongs and three!"
Yet he 's corned up to the hall among them all;
So well he became his courtesie; 70
" Well may ye be, my good Laird's Jock,
But the deil bless all your companie !
" I'm come to plain of your man Fair Johnnie Arm strong,
And syne his billie Willie," quo' he; "How they have been in my house this last night,
And they have ta'en my three ky frae me."
Quo' Johnnie Armstrong, "We'll him hang;" "Nay," then quo' Willie, "we'll him slae;"
But up bespake another young man,
"We'll knit him in a four-nooked sheet, 80
Give him his burden of batts, aud let him gae."
DICK O' THE COW 89
Then up bespake the good Laird's Jock,
The best fella in the companies " Sit thy way down a little while, Dickie,
And a piece of thine own cow's hough I'll give to thee."
But Dickie's heart it grew so great
That never a bit of it he dought to eat;
But Dickie was ware of an auld peat-house,
Where there all the night he thought for to sleep.
Then Dickie was ware of that auld peat-house, 90 Where there all the night he thought for to lie;
And a' the prayers the poor fool pray'd was, "I wish I had a mense for my own three ky!"
Then it was the use of Puddinburn, And the house of Mangertoun, all hail!
These that came not at the first call
They got no more meat till the next meal.
The lads, that hungry and aevery was, Above the door-head they flang the key.
Dickie took good notice to that; 100
Says, " There's a booty yonder for me."
Then Dickie 's gone into the stable,
Where there stood thirty horse and three;
He has tied them a' with St. Mary knot, All these horse but barely three.
He has tied them a' with St. Mary knot,
All these horse but barely three; He has loupen on one, taken another in his hand,
And out at the door and gone is Dickie.
90 BALLADS AND POEMS
Then on the morn, when the day grew light, no The shouts and cries rose loud and high;
"What's that thief?" quo' the good Laird's Jock, "Tell me the truth and the verity.
"What's that thief?" quo' the good Laird's Jock,
"See unto me ye do not lie." " Dick o' the Cow has been in the stable this last nicht,
And has my brother's horse and mine frae me."
" Ye wad never be tell'd it," quo' the Laird's Jock, "Have ye not found my tales fu' leal?
Ye wad never out of England bide, 120
Till crooked and blind and a' wad steal."
" But will thou lend me thy bay ? " Fair Johnnie Armstrong can say,
" There 's nae mae horse loose in the stable but he ; And I'll either bring ye Dick o' the Cow again,
Or the day is come that he must die."
"To lend thee my bay," the Laird's Jock can say, "He's both worth gold and good monie;
Dick o' the Cow has away twa horse, I wish no thou should make him three."
He has ta'en the Laird's jack on his back, 130
The twa-handed sword that hang leugh by his thigh;
He has ta'en the steel cap on his head, And on is he to follow Dickie.
Then Dickie was not a mile off the town,
I wot a mile but barely three, Till John Armstrong has o'erta'en Dick o' the Cow,
Hand for hand on Cannobie lee.
DICK O' THE COW 91
"Abide thee, bide now, Dickie, than, The day is come that thou must die."
Dickie looked o'er his left shoulder, 140
" Johnnie, has thou any mo in thy companie ?
"There is a preacher in our chapel,
And a' the lee-lang day teaches he; When day is gone, and night is come,
There's never a word I mark but three.
"The first and second's Faith and Conscience, The third is, Johnnie, Take heed of thee!
But what faith and conscience had thou, traitor, When thou took my three ky frae me?
"And when thou had ta'en my three ky, 150
Thou thought in thy heart thou was no well sped ;
But thou sent thy billie Willie o'er the know, And he took three co'erlets off my wife's bed."
Then Johnnie let a spear fa' leugh by his thigh, Thought well to run the innocent through,
But the powers above was more than his, He ran but the poor fool's jerkin through.
Together they ran or ever they blan ;
This was Dickie the fool, and he; Dickie could not win to him with the blade of the sword, 1 60
But he fell'd him with the plummet under the eye.
Now Dickie has fell'd Fair Johnnie Armstrong, The prettiest man in the south countrie;
"Gramercie," then can Dickie say,
"I had twa horse, thou has made me three."
92 BALLADS AND POEMS
He has ta'en the laird's jack off his back,
The twa-handed sword that hang leugh by his thigh ;
He has ta'en the steel cap off his head;
"Johnnie, I'll tell my master I met with thee."
When Johnnie waken'd out of his dream, 170
I wot a dreary man was he; " Is thou gone now, Dickie, than ?
The shame gae in thy companic !
" Is thou gone now, Dickie, than ?
The shame go in thy companie! For if I should live this hundred year,
I shall never fight with a fool after thee."
Then Dickie corned home to lord and master,
Even as fast as he may dree. " Now, Dickie, I shall neither eat meat nor drink 180
Till high hanged that thou shall be!"
"The shame speed the liars, my lord!" quo' Dickie, "•That was no the promise ye made to me;
For I'd never gone to Liddesdale to steal Till that I sought my leave at thee."
" But what gart thou steal the Laird's Jock's horse ?
And, limmer, what gart thou steal him ? " quo' he ; " For lang might thou in Cumberland dwelt
Or the Laird's Jock had stoln aught frae thee."
"Indeed I wot ye lied, my lord, 190
And even so loud as I hear ye lie; I won him frae his man, Fair Johnnie Armstrong,
Hand for hand on Cannobie lee.
DICK O* THE COW 93
" There 's tlie jack was on his back,
The twa-handed sword that hung leugh by his thigh ; There 's the steel cap was on his head ;
I have a' these tokens to let you see."
"If that be true thou to me tells
(I trow thou dare not tell a lie), I'll give thee twenty pound for the good horse, 200
Well tell'd in thy cloak-lap shall be.
"And I'll give thee one of my best milk-ky To maintain thy wife and children three;
And that may be as good, I think, As ony twa o' thine might be."
"The shame speed the liars, my lord!" quo' Dickie;
" Trow ye ay to make a fool of me ? I'll either have thirty pound for the good horse,
Or else he 's gae to Mattan Fair wi' me."
Then he has given him thirty pound for the good horse, 210
All in gold and good monie: He has given him one of his best milk-ky
To maintain his wife and children three.
Then Dickie 's come down through Carlisle town,
Even as fast as he may dree. The first of men that he with met
Was my lord's brother, Bailiff Grlazenberrie.
" Well may ye be, my good Ralph Scrupe ! " " Welcome, my brother's fool ! " quo' he ;
"Where did thou get Fair Johnnie Armstrong's horse ? " 220
"Where did I get him but steal him," quo' he.
94 BALLADS AND POEMS
"But will thou sell me Fair Johnnie Armstrong's horse ?
And, billie, will thou sell him to me?" quo' he; "Ay, and thou tell me the monie on my cloak-lap,
For there's not one farthing I'll trust thee."
"I'll give thee fifteen pound for the good horse,
Well told on thy cloak-lap shall be; And I'll give thee one of my best milk-ky
To maintain thy wife and thy children three."
" The shame speed the liars, my lord ! " quo' Dickie, 230 " Trow ye ay to make a fool of me ? " quo' he ;
"I'll either have thirty pound for the good horse, Or else he's to Mattan Fair with me."
He has given him thirty pound for the good horse,
All in gold and good monie; He has given him one of his best milk-ky
To maintain his wife and children three.
Then Dickie lap a loup on high,
And I wot a loud laughter leugh he;
" I 'wish the neck of the third horse were broken, 240 For I have a better of my own, and onie better can be."
Then Dickie corned hame to his wife again.
Judge ye how the poor fool he sped! He has given her three score of English pounds
For the three auld co'erlets was ta'en off her bed.
"Ha'e, take thee there twa as good ky,
I trow, as all thy three might be; And yet here is a white-footed nag,
I think he'll carry both thee and me.
DICK O' THE COW 95
"But I may no longer in Cumberland dwell; 250 The Armstrongs they'll hang me high.''
But Dickie has ta'eri leave at lord and master, And Burgh under Stanemuir there dwells Dickie.
EAEL BOTHWELL. (1568)
Woe worth thee, woe worth thee, false Scotland!
For thou hast ever wrought by a sleight; For the worthiest prince that ever was born
You hanged under a cloud by night.
The Queen of France a letter wrote,
And sealed it with heart and ring, And bade him come Scotland within,
And she would marry him and crown him king.
To be a king, it is a pleasant thing,
To be a prince unto a peer; 10
But you have heard, and so have I too,
A man may well buy gold too dear.
There was an Italian in that place Was as well beloved as ever was he;
Lord David was his name,
Chamberlain unto the queen was he.
For if the king had risen forth of his place, He would have sit him down in the chair,
And tho' it beseemed him not so well,
Altho' the king had been present there. 20
96 BALLADS AND POEMS
Some lords in Scotland waxed wondrous wroth, And quarrell'd with him for the nonce;
I shall you tell how it befell; Twelve daggers were in him all at once.
Then some of the lords of Scotland waxed wroth,
And made their vow vehemently; "For death of the queen's chamberlain
The king himself he shall die."
They strowed his chamber over with gunpowder, And laid green rushes in his way; 30
For the traitors thought that night The worthy king for to betray.
To bed the worthy king made him bouii;
To take his rest, that was his desire; He was no sooner cast on sleep
But his chamber was on a blazing fire.
Up he lope, and a glass window broke,
He had thirty foot for to fall; Lord Bothwell kept a privy watch
tTnderneath his castle wall. 4°
" Who have we here ? " said Lord Bothwell ;
"Answer me, now I do call."
"King Henry the Eighth my uncle was;
Some pity show for his sweet sake! Ah, Lord Bothwell, I know thee well;
Some pity on me I pray thee take ! "
"I'll pity thee as much," he said,
"And as much favour I'll show to thee,
As thou had on the queen's chamberlain
That day thou deemedst him to die." 5°
EARL BOTHWELL 97
Through halls and towers this king they led, Through castles and towers that were high,
Through an arbour into an orchard, And there hanged him in a pear tree.
When the governor of Scotland he heard tell
That the worthy king he was slain, He hath banished the queen so bitterly
That in Scotland she dare not remain.
But she is fled into merry England,
And Scotland too aside hath lain, 60
And through the Queen of England's good grace
Now in England she doth remain.
Traditional Ballad,
THE RISING IN THE NORTH. (1569)
Listen, lively lordings all,
Lithe and listen unto me, And I will sing of a noble earl,
The noblest earl in the North Countrie.
Earl Percy is into his garden gone, And after him walks his fair ladie.
"I hear a bird sing in my ear That I must either fight or flee."
"Now heaven forefend, my dearest lord, That ever such harm should hap to thee,
But go to London to the Court; And fair fall truth and honesty I"
8. 7
98 BALLADS AND POEMS
"Now nay, now nay, my lady gay,
Alas! thy counsel suits not me; Mine enemies prevail so fast
That at the Court I may not be."
"O go to the Court yet, good my lord, And take thy gallant men with thee,
And if any dare to do you wrong
Then your warrant they may be." 20
"Now nay, now nay, thou lady fair,
The Court is full of subtiltie, And if I go to the Court, lady,
Never more I may thee see."
"Yet go to the Court, my lord," she says,
"And I myself will go wi' thee; At Court then for my dearest lord
His faithful borrow I will be."
"Now nay, now nay, my lady dear, Far lever had I lose my life 30
Than leave among my cruel foes My love in jeopardy and strife.
"But come thou hither, my little foot-page,
Come thou hither unto me, To Maister Norton thou must go
In all the haste that ever may be.
"Commend me to that gentleman, And bear this letter here fro me,
And say that earnestly I pray
He will ride in my company." 40
THE RISING IN THE NORTH 99
One while the little foot-page went,
And another while he ran, Until he came to his journey's end,
The little foot-page never blan.
When to that gentleman he came,
Down he kneeled on his knee; Quoth he, "My lord commendeth him,
And sends this letter unto thee."
And when the letter it was read
Afore that goodly company, 50
I wis if you the truth would know,
There was many a weeping eye.
He said, "Come hither, Christopher Norton, A gallant youth thou seem'st to be,
What dost thou counsel me, my son, Now that good earl's in jeopardy?"
"Father, my counsel's fair and free,
That earl he is a noble lord, And whatsoever to him you hight,
I would not have you break your word." 60
"Gramercy, Christopher, my son,
Thy counsel well it liketh me, And if we speed and 'scape with life
Well advanced shalt thou be.
"Come you hither, my nine good sons,
Gallant men I trow you be, How many of you, my children dear,
Will stand by that good earl and me?"
7—2
100 BALLADS AND POEMS
Eight of them did answer make,
Eight of them spake hastilie: 70
"0 father, till the day we die,
We'll stand by that good earl and thee!"
"Gramercy now, my children dear, You show yourselves right bold and brave,
And whethersoe'er I live or die, A father's blessing you shall have.
"But what say'st thou, 0 Francis Norton?
Thou art mine eldest son and heir; Somewhat lies brooding in thy breast:
Whatever it be, to me declare." 80
"Father, you are an ag&d man,
Your head is white, your beard is gray;
It were a shame at these your years, For you to rise in such a fray."
"Now fie upon thee, coward Francis, Thou never learnedst this of me;
When thou wert young and tender of age, Why did I make so much of thee ? "
"But, father, I will wend with you,
Unarmed and naked will I be, 90
And he that strikes against the crown, Ever an ill death may he dee."
Then rose that reverend gentleman, And with him came a goodly band
To join the brave Earl Percy,
And all the flower o' Northumberland.
THE RISING IN THE NORTH 101
With them the noble Neville came, The earl of "Westmoreland was he;
At Wetherby they mustered their host,
Thirteen thousand fair to see. 100
Lord Westmoreland his ancient raised,
The Dun Bull he raised on high; Three Dogs with golden collars
Were there set out most royally.
Earl Percy there his ancient spread, The Half-Moon shining all so fair;
The Norton's ancient had the Cross, And the Five Wounds our Lord did bear.
Then Sir George Bowes he straightway rose, After them some spoil to make; no
Those noble earls turned back again, And aye they vowed that knight to take.
The baron he to his castle fled,
To Barnard Castle then fled he; The uttermost walls were easy to win;
The earls have won them presently.
The uttermost walls were lime and brick, But though they won them soon anon,
Long ere they won the innermost walls, For they were cut in rock of stone. 120
Then news unto leeve London came In all the speed that ever may be,
And word is brought to our royal queen Of the rising in the North Countrie.
102 BALLADS AND POEMS
Her grace she turned her round about, And like a royal queen she swore,
"I will ordain them such a breakfast As never was in the North before."
She caused thirty thousand men be raised, With horse and harness fair to see, 130
She caused thirty thousand men be raised To take the earls i' th' North Countrie.
Wi' them the false Earl Warwick went, Th' Earl Sussex and the Lord Hunsden;
Until they to York Castle came, I wis they never stint ne blan.
Now spread thy ancient, Westmoreland, Thy Dun Bull fain would we spy,
And thou, the Earl o' Northumberland,
Now raise thy half-moon up on high! 140
But the Dun Bull is fled and gone, And the Half-Moon vanished away;
^he earls, though they were brave and bold, Against so many could not stay.
Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sons, They doom'd to die, alas! for ruth!
Thy reverend locks thee could not save, Nor them their fair and blooming youth.
Wi' them full many a gallant wight
They cruelly bereaved of life, 15°
And many a child made fatherless, And widowed many a tender wife.
Traditional Ballad.
MARY AMBREE 103
MAKY AMBREB. (1584)
When captains courageous, whom death could not
daunt,
Did march to the siege of the city of Gaunt, They mustered their soldiers by two and by three, And the foremost in battle was Mary Ambree.
When brave Sir John Major was slain in her sight, Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight, Because he was slain most treacherouslie, Then vowed to revenge him Mary Ambree.
She clothed herself from the top to the toe
In buff of the bravest, most seemly to show; 10
A fair shirt of mail then slipped on she;
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
A helmet of proof she straight did provide, A strong arming sword she girt by her side, On her hand a goodly fair gauntlet put she; Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
Then took she her sword and her target in hand, Bidding all such, as would, be of her band; To wait on her person came thousand and three; Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 20
"My soldiers," she saith, "so valiant and bold, Now follow your captain, whom you do behold; Still foremost in battle myself will I be." Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
104 BALLADS AND POEMS
Then cried out her soldiers, and loud they did say, "So well thou becomest this gallant array, Thy heart and thy weapons so well do agree, There was none ever like Mary Ambree."
She cheered her soldiers, that foughten for life, With ancient and standard, with drum and with fife, 30
With brave clanging trumpets, that sounded so free ; Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
"Before I will see the worst of you all To come into danger of death, or of thrall, This hand and this life I will venture so free." Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
She led up her soldiers in battle array,
'Gainst three times their number by break of the day ;
Seven hours in skirmish continued she;
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree ? 40
She filled the skies with the smoke of her shot, And- her enemies' bodies with bullets so hot; For one of her own men a score killed she; Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
And when her false gunner, to spoil her intent, Away all her pellets and powder had sent, Straight with her keen weapon she slashed him in
three ; Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
Being falsely betrayed for lucre of hire, At length she was forced to make a retire; 50
Then her soldiers into a strong castle drew she; Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
MARY AMBREE 105
Her foes they beset her on every side, As thinking close siege she could never abide; To beat down the walls they all did decree: But stoutly defied them brave Mary Ambree.
Then took she her sword and her target in hand, And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand, There daring their captains to match any three; O, what a brave captain was Mary Ambree! 60
" Now say, English captain, what wouldest thou give To ransom thyself, which else must not live? Come yield thyself quickly or slain thou must be." Then smiled sweetly brave Mary Ambree.
"Ye captains courageous, of valour so bold, Whom think you before you now you do behold? No knight, sirs, of England, nor captain you see, But a poor simple lass, called Mary Ambree."
"But art thou a woman as thou dost declare, Whose valour hath proved so undaunted in war ? 70 If England doth yield such brave lasses as thee, Full well may they conquer, fair Mary Ambree!"
Then to her own country she back did return, Still holding the foes of fair England in scorn; Therefore English captains of every degree Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree.
Traditional Ballad.
106 BALLADS AND POEMS
BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBY. (158-)
The fifteenth day of July,
With glistering spear and shield, A famous fight in Flanders
Was foughten in the field; The most courageous officers
Were English captains three, But the bravest man in battle
Was brave Lord Willoughby.
The next was Captain Norris,
A valiant man was he; The other, Captain Turner,
From field would never flee. With fifteen hundred fighting men —
Alas, there were no more, — They fought with fourteen thousand men
Upon the bloody shore.
"Stand to it, noble pikemen,
And look you round about! And shoot you right, you bowmen,
And we will keep them out! You musquet and caliver men,
Do you prove true to me; I'll be the foremost man in fight ! "
Says brave Lord Willoughby.
BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBY 107
And then the bloody enemy
They fiercely did assail; And fought it out most furiously,
Not doubting to prevail. The wounded men on both sides fell,
Most piteous for to see, 30
Yet nothing could the courage quell
Of brave Lord Willoughby.
For seven hours, to all men's view,
The fight endured sore. Until our men so feeble grew
That they could fight no more. And then upon dead horses
Full savourly they ate, And drank the puddle-water —
They could no better get. 40
When they had fed so freely,
They kneeled on the ground, And praised God devoutly
For the favour they had found; And beating up their colours,
The fight they did renew, And turning toVrds the Spaniard,
A thousand more they slew.
The sharp steel-pointed arrows
And bullets thick did fly; 50
Then did our valiant soldiers
Charge on most furiously; Which made the Spaniards waver,
They thought it best to flee; They feared the stout behaviour
Of brave Lord Willoughby.
108 BALLADS AND POEMS
And then the fearful enemy
Was quickly put to flight; Our men pursued courageously
And caught their forces quite. 60
But at last they gave a shout
Which echoed through the sky; "God and Saint George for England 1"
The conquerors did cry.
This news was brought to England,
With all the speed might be, And soon our gracious Queen was told
Of this same victory. "0 this is brave Lord Willoughby,
My love that ever won; 7°
Of all the Lords of honour
'Tis he great deeds hath done."
To the soldiers that were maimed
And wounded in the fray, The Queen allowed a pension
Of fifteenpence a day: And from all costs and charges
She quit and set them free; And this she did all for the sake
Of brave Lord Willoughby. 80
Then, courage! noble Englishmen,
And never be dismayed: If that we be but one to ten
We will not be afraid To fight with foreign enemies,
And set our nation free ; And thus I end the bloody bout
Of brave Lord Willoughby.
Anon.
THE ARMADA 109
Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's
praise ; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in
ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in
vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of
Spain.
It was about the lovely close of a warm summer
day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to
Plymouth Bay; Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond
Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many
a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial
grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close
in chase. 10
Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along
the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's
lofty hall; Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the
coast, And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland
many a post.
110 BALLADS AND POEMS
With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff
comes ; Behind him march the halberdiers ; before him sound
the drums; His yeomen round the market cross make clear an
ample space; For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her
Grace. And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance
the bells, As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon
swells. 20
Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient
crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies
down! So stalked he when he turned to flight on that famed
Picard field Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle
shield. So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned
to bay, And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely
hunters lay. Ho ! strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight : ho ! scatter
flowers, fair maids: Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw
your blades: Thou sun, shine on her joyously: ye breezes, waft
her wide; Our glorious SEMPER EADEM, the banner of our
pride. 30
THE ARMADA 111
The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's
massy fold; The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty
scroll of gold; Night sank upon the dusky beach and on the purple
sea, Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again
shall be. From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to
Milford Bay, Tha>t time of slumber was as bright and busy as the
day;
For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war- flame spread, High on Saint Michael's Mount it shone : it shone on
Beachy Head. Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern
shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling
points of fire. 40
The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering
waves :
The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sun less caves! O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the
fiery herald flew: He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers
of Beaulieu. Eight sharp and quick the bells all night rang out
from Bristol town, And ere the day three hundred horse had met on
Clifton down;
112 BALLADS AND POEMS
The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the
night, And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of
blood-red light: Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like
silence broke, And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city
woke. 5°
At once on all her stately gates arose the answering
fires; At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling
spires; From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the
voice of fear; And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a
louder cheer; And from the furthest wards was heard the rush of
hurrying feet, And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed
down each roaring street; And broader still became the blaze, and louder still
the din, As fast from every village round the horse came
spurring in. And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the
warlike errand went, And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant
squires of Kent. 60
Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those
bright couriers forth; High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started
for the north;
THE ARMADA 113
And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded
still : All night from tower to tower they sprang; they
sprang from hill to hill: Till the proud Peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's
rocky dales, Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills
of Wales, Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's
lonely height, Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's
crest of light, Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's
stately fane, And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the
boundless plain; 70
Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale
of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's
embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers
of Carlisle.
LORD MACAULAY.
114 BALLADS AND POEMS
THE DEFEAT OF THE SPANISH ARMADA. (1588)
Some years of late, in eighty- eight,
As I do well remember, It was, some say, the nineteenth of May,
And some say in September,
And some say in September.
The Spanish train launch'd forth amain,
With many a fine bravado, Their (as they thought, but it proved not)
Invincible Armado,
Invincible Armado. 10
There was a little man, that dwelt in Spain,
Who shot well in a gun-a, Don Pedro hight, as black a wight
As the Knight of the Sun-a,
As the Knight of the Sun-a.
King Philip made him admiral,
And bid him not to stay-a, Bat to destroy both man and boy,
And so to come away-a,
And so to come away-a. 20
Their navy was well victualled,
With biscuit, pease and bacon; They brought two ships, well fraught with whips,
But I think they were mistaken,
But I think they were mistaken.
THE DEFEAT OF THE SPANISH ARMADA 115
Their men were young, munition strong,
And, to do us more harm-a, They thought it meet to join the fleet,
All with the Prince of Parma,
All with the Prince of Parma. 30
They coasted round about our land,
And so came in by Dover; But we had men set on 'urn, then,
And threw the rascals over,
And threw the rascals over.
The Queen was then at Tilbury;
What could we more desire-a? And Sir Francis Drake, for her sweet sake,
Did set them all on fire-a,
Did set them all on fire-a. 40
Then straight they fled, by sea and land,
That one man kill'd three score-a; And had not they all ran away,
In truth, he had kill'd more-a,
In truth, he had kill'd more-a.
Then let them neither brag nor boast,
But, if they come agen-a, Let them take heed, they do not speed
As they did, you know when-a,
As they did, you know when-a. 50
Anon.
8—2
116 BALLADS AND POEMS
THE FAME OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. (Drake d. 1595)
Sir Drake, whom well the world's end knew,
Which thou did compass round, And whom both poles of heaven once saw,
Which north and south do bound;
The stars above would make thee known,
If men here silent were; The sun himself cannot forget
His fellow-traveller.
Anon.
CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW. (c. 1605)
Strike up, you lusty gallants,
With music and sound of drum, For we have descried a rover,
Upon the sea is come; His name is Captain Ward,
Right well it doth appear, There has not been such a rover
Found out this thousand year.
For he hath sent unto our king,
The sixth of January, 10
Desiring that he might come in,
With all his company;
CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW 11 7
"And if your king will let me corne
Till I my tale have told, I will bestow for my ransom
Full thirty ton of gold."
"0 nay, 0 nay," then said our king,
" 0 nay, this may not be, To yield to such a rover,
Myself will not agree; 20
He hath deceived the Frenchman,
Likewise the King of Spain, And how can he be true to me
That hath been false to twain?"
With that our king provided
A ship of worthy fame, Rainbow she is called,
If you would know her name; Now the gallant Rainbow
She rows upon the sea, 30
Five hundred gallant seamen
To bear her company.
The Dutchman and the Spaniard
She made them for to flee, Also the bonny Frenchman,
As she met him on the sea. Whereas this gallant Rainbow
Did come where Ward did lie, "Where is the captain of this ship?"
This gallant Rainbow did cry. 40
118 BALLADS AND POEMS
"O that am I," says Captain Ward,
"There's no man bids me lie, And if thou art the king's fair ship,
Thou art welcome unto me." "I'll tell thee what," says Rainbow,
"Our king is in great grief That thou shouldst lie upon the sea
And play the arrant thief;
"And will not let our merchants' ships
Pass as they did before; 50
Such tidings to our king is come,
Which grieves his heart full sore." With that this gallant Rainbow,
She shot, out of her pride, Full fifty gallant brass pieces,
Charged on every side.
And yet these gallant shooters
Prevailed not a pin; Though they were brass on the outside,
Brave Ward was steel within; 60
"Shoot on, shoot on," says Captain Ward,
"Your sport well pleaseth me, And he that first gives over
Shall yield unto the sea.
" I never wronged an English ship, But Turk and King of Spain,
For and the jovial Dutchman As I met on the main.
CAPTAIN WARD AND THE RAINBOW 119
If I had known your king
But one-two years before, 70
I would have saved brave Essex' life,
Whose death did grieve me sore.
"Go tell the King of England,
Go tell him thus from me, If he reign king of all the land,
I will reign king at sea." With that the gallant Rainbow shot,
And shot, and shot in vain, And left the rover's company,
And returned home again. So
"Our royal King of England,
Your ship's returned again, For Ward's ship is so strong
It never will be ta'en." " 0 everlasting 1 " says our king,
"I have lost jewels three, Which would have gone unto the seas
And brought proud Ward to me.
"The first was Lord Clifford,
Earl of Cumberland; 90
The second was the Lord Mount joy,
As you shall understand; The third was brave Essex,
From field would never flee; Which would 'a' gone unto the seas,
And brought proud Ward to me."
Tradltloiial Ballad.
120 BALLADS AND POEMS
WHEN THE KING ENJOYS HIS OWN AGAIN. (1643)
What Booker can prognosticate, Concerning kings or kingdom's fate ? I think myself to be as wise As he that gazeth on the skies:
My skill goes beyond
The depths of a Pond Or Rivers in the greatest rainj
Whereby I can tell,
All things will be well, When the King enjoys his own again. 10
There's neither Swallow, Dove, nor Dade Can soar more high, nor deeper wade; Nor show a reason from the stars, What causeth peace or civil wars; The man in the moon May wear out his shoon, By running after Charles his wain; But all's to no end, For the times will not mend Till the King enjoys his own again. 20
Though for a time we see Whitehall With cobwebs hanging on the wall, Instead of silk and silver wave, Which formerly it used to have; With rich perfume In every room,
WHEN THE KING ENJOYS HIS OWN AGAIN 121
Delightful to that princely train,
Which again you shall see,
When the time it shall be That the King enjoys his own again. 3°
Full forty years the royal crown Hath been his father's and his own; And is there anyone but he, That in the same should sharer be ?
For who better may
The sceptre sway, Than he that hath such right to reign?
Then let's hope for a peace,
For the wars will not cease, Till the King enjoys his own again. 40
Till then upon Ararat's hill My Hope shall cast her anchor still, Until I see some peaceful dove Bring home the branch I dearly love:
Then will I wait
Till the waters abate, Which now disturb my troubled brain,
Else never rejoice
Till I hear the voice, That the King enjoys his own again. 50
MAETIN PARKER.
122 BALLADS AND POEMS
SIR NICHOLAS AT MAESTON MOOR. (1644)
To horse ! to horse, Sir Nicholas, the clarion's note is
high! To horse ! to horse, Sir Nicholas, the big drum makes
reply ! Ere this hath Lucas marched, with his gallant
cavaliers, And the bray of Rupert's trumpets grows fainter on
our ears. To horse ! to horse 1 Sir Nicholas ! White Guy is at the
door, And the vulture whets his beak o'er the field of
Marston Moor.
Up rose the Lady Alice from her brief and broken prayer,
And she brought a silken standard down the narrow turret-stair ;
Oh ! many were the tears that those radiant eyes had shed,
As she worked the bright word "Glory" in the gay and glancing thread; 10
And mournful was the smile which o'er those beau teous features ran,
As she said: "It is your lady's gift; unfurl it in the van 1 "
SIR NICHOLAS AT MARSTON MOOR 123
"It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best and
boldest ride, Thro' the steel-clad files of Skippon, the black dragoons
of Pride ;
The recreant soul of Fairfax will feel a sicklier qualm, And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm, When they see my lady's gewgaw flaunt bravely on
their wing, And hear her loyal soldiers' shout, For God and for
the King ! "
'Tis noon. The ranks are broken, along the royal line They fly, the braggarts of the court 1 the bullies of the
Rhine! 20
Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's
helm is down, And Rupert sheathes his rapier with a curse and Avith
a frown, And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in the
flight, " The German boar had better far have supped in York
to-night."
The knight is all alone, his steel cap cleft in twain, His good buff jerkin crimsoned o'er with many a gory
stain ; Yet still he waves the standard, and cries amid the
rout, " For Church and King, fair gentlemen ! spur on, and
fight it out ! " And now he wards a Roundhead's pike, and now he
hums a stave, And here he quotes a stage-play, and there he fells a
knave. 30
124 BALLADS AND POEMS
God speed to thee, Sir Nicholas ! thou hast no thought
of fear; G-od speed to thee, Sir Nicholas ! but fearful odds are
here! The traitors ring thee round, and with every blow and
thrust, "Down, down," they cry, "with Belial! down with him
to the dust!" " I would," quoth grim old Oliver, " that Belial's trusty
sword This day were doing battle for the Saints and for the
Lord!"
The Lady Alice sits with her maidens in her bower,
The grey-haired warden watches from the castle's highest tower;
"What news ? what news, old Anthony?"—" The field is lost and won :
The ranks of war are melting as the mists beneath the sun ! 4°
And a wounded man speeds hither — I'm old and can not see,
Or sure I am that sturdy step my master's step should be!"
"I bring thee back the standard from as rude and
rough a fray As e'er was proof of soldier's thews, or theme for
minstrel's lay! Bid Hubert fetch the silver bowl, and liquor quantum
suff.; I'll make a shift to drain it, ere I part with boot and
buff—
SIR NICHOLAS AT MARSTON MOOR 125
Though Guy through many a gaping wound is
breathing out his life, And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and
faithful wife.
"Sweet! we will fill our money-bags, and freight a
ship for France, And mourn in merry Paris for this poor realm's
mischance : 5°
Or if the worst betide me, why better axe or rope, Than life with Lenthall for a king, and Peters for a
pope! Alas ! alas ! my gallant Guy ! — out on the crop-eared
boor That sent me, with my standard, on foot from Marston
Moor!"
W. M. PRAED.
THE BATTLE OF NASEBY. (1645)
Oh, wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the
north, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment
all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous
shout ?
And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?
126 BALLADS AND POEMS
Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we
trod; For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and
the strong,
Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God.
It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, That we saw their banners dance, and their cuirasses shine, I0
And the Man of Blood was there, with his long es-
senced hair,
And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the Rhine.
Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his
sword,
The general rode along us to form us to the fight, When a murmuring sound broke out, and swelled into
a shout, Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's right.
And hark ! like the roar of the billows on the shore, The cry of battle rises along their charging line!
For God! for the Cause! for the Church! for the Laws!
For Charles King of England, and Rupert of the
Rhine ! 20
The furious German comes, with his clarions and his
drums,
His bravoes of Alsatia and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks. Grasp your pikes,
close your ranks ; For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall.
THE BATTLE OF NAREBY 127
They are here ! They rush on ! We are broken ! We
are gone! Our left is borne before them like stubble on the
blast. 0 Lord, put forth thy might! O Lord, defend the
right!
Stand back to back, in God's name, and fight it to the last.
Stout Skippon hath a wound; the centre hath given
ground.
Hark ! hark ! What means the trampling of horse men on our rear ? 30 Whose banner do I see, boys ? "Tis he, thank Grod, 'tis
he, boys. Bear up another minuto: brave Oliver is here.
Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dykes,
Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the Accurst, And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes.
Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide Their coward heads, predestined to rot on Temple
Bar, And he — he turns, he flies: — shame on those cruel
eyes
That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on war 1 40
128 BALLADS AND POEMS
Ho ! comrades, scour the plain ; and, ere ye strip the
slain,
First give another stab to make your search secure ; Then shake from sleeves and pockets their broad- pieces and lockets, The tokens of the wanton, the plunder of the poor.
Fools ! your doublets shone with gold, and your hearts
were gay and bold, When you kissed your lily hands to your lenians
to-day ; And to-morrow shall the fox, from her chambers in the
rocks, Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey.
Where be your tongues that late mocked at heaven
and hell and fate,
And the fingers that once were so busy with your
blades, 50
Your perfumed satin clothes, your catches and your
oaths,
Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your diamonds and your spades ?
Down, down, for ever down with the mitre and the
crown, With the Belial of the Court, and the Mammon of
the Pope; There is woe in Oxford halls; there is wail in Durham's
stalls ;
The Jesuit smites his bosom; the bishop rends his cope.
THE BATTLE OF NASEBY 129
And she of the seven hills shall mourn her children's
ills, And tremble when she thinks on the edge of
England's sword; And the kings of earth in fear shall shudder when they
hear
What the hand of God hath wrought for the Houses and the Word. 60
LORD MACAULAY.
ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX AT THE SIEGE OF COLCHESTER.
(1648)
Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings, Filling each mouth with envy or with praise, And all her jealous monarchs with amaze, And rumours loud that daunt remotest kings,
Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings Victory home, though new rebellions raise Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays Her broken league to imp their serpent wings.
0 yet a nobler task awaits thy hand
(For what can war but endless war still breed ?) 10 Till truth and right from violence be freed,
And public faith cleared from the shameful brand Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the land.
JOHN MILTON.
130 BALLADS AND POEMS
AN HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND.
(1650)
The forward youth that would appear, Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing.
'Tis time to leave the books in dust, And oil the unused armour's rust,
Removing from the wall
The corslet of the hall.
So restless Cromwell could not cease In the inglorious arts of peace,
But through adventurous war
Urged his active star:
And like the three-fork'd lightning, first Breaking the clouds where it was nurst,
Did thorough his own Side
His fiery way divide :
For 'tis all one to courage high, The emulous, or enemy;
And with such, to enclose
Is more than to oppose;
Then burning through the air he went And palaces and temples rent; And Caesar's head at last Did through his laurels blast.
AN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND 131
"Pis madness to resist or blame The face of angry heaven's flame;
And if we would speak true,
Much to the Man is due
Who, from his private gardens, where
He lived reserved and austere, 30
(As if his highest plot
To plant the bergamot,)
Could by industrious valour climb To ruin the great work of time
And cast the Kingdoms old
Into another mould;
Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient Rights in vain —
But those do hold or break
As men are strong or weak; 40
Nature, that hateth emptiness, Allows of penetration less,
And therefore must make room
Where greater spirits come.
What field of all the civil war
Where his were not the deepest scar ? .
And Hampton shows what part
He had of wiser art,
Where, twining subtle fears with hope,
He wove a net of such a scope 50
That Charles himself might chase
To Carisbrook's narrow case,
9—2
132 BALLADS AND POEMS
That thence the Royal actor borne The tragic scaffold might adorn:
While round the armed bands
Did clap their bloody hands.
He nothing common did or mean Upon that memorable scene,
But with his keener eye
The axe's edge did try; 60
Nor oall'd the Gods, with vulgar spite, To vindicate his helpless right;
But bow'd his comely head
Down, as upon a bed.
— This was that memorable hour Which first assured the forced power:
So when they did design
The Capitol's first line,
A Bleeding Head, where they begun,
Did fright the architects to run; 70
And yet in that the State
Foresaw its happy fate!
And now the- Irish are ashamed To see themselves in one year tamed: So much one man can do That does both act and know.
They can affirm his praises best, And have, though overcome, confest
How good he is, how just
And fit for highest trust. 80
AN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND 133
Nor yet grown stiff er with command, But still in the Republic's hand —
How fit he is to sway
That can so well obey!
He to the Common's feet presents A Kingdom for his first year's • rents,
And (what he may) forbears
His fame, to make it theirs:
And has his sword and spoils ungirt
To lay them at the Public's skirt. 90
So when the falcon high
Falls heavy from the sky,
She, having kill'd, no more doth search But on the next green bough to perch,
Where, when he first does lure,
The falconer has her sure.
— What may not then our Isle presume While Victory his crest does plume?
What may not others fear
If thus he crowns each year? 100
As Caesar he, ere long, to Gaul, To Italy an Hannibal,
And to all States not free
Shall climacteric be.
The Pict no shelter now shall find
Within his parti-colour'd mind, But from this valour sad Shrink underneath the plaid —
134 BALLADS AND POEMS
Happy, if in the tufted brake
The English hunter him mistake. no
Nor lay his hounds in near
The Caledonian deer.
But thou, the War's and Fortune's son, March indefatigably on;
And for the last effect
Still keep the sword erect:
Besides the force it has to fright The spirits of the shady night,
The same arts that did gain
A power, must it maintain. 120
ANDREW MAEVELL.
TO CROMWELL. (1652)
Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued ; While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud,
And Worcester's laureate wreath: yet much remains To conquer still; Peace hath her victories 10
No less renowned than War: new foes arise,
Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose Gospel is their maw.
JOHN MILTON.
THE FIRE OF LONDON 135
THE FIRE OF LONDON
(selected from "Annus Mirabilis").
(1666)
Swell'd with our late successes on the foe, Which France and Holland wanted power to cross,
We urge an unseen fate to lay us low,
And feed their envious eyes with English loss.
Each element His dread command obeys, Who makes or ruins with a smile or frown;
Who, as by one He did our nation raise, So now He with another pulls us down.
Yet, London! empress of the northern clime, By an high fate thou greatly didst expire; 10
Great as the world's, which, at the death of Time, Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire.
As when some dire usurper heaven provides, To scourge his country with a lawless sway;
His birth, perhaps, some petty village hides, And sets his cradle out of fortune's way:
Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out, And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on;
His prince, surprised at first, no ill could doubt, And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known : 20
Such was the rise of this prodigious Fire,
Which in mean buildings first obscurely bred,
From thence did soon to open streets aspire, And straight to palaces and temples spread.
136 BALLADS AND POEMS
The diligence of trades and noiseful gain, And luxury, more late, asleep was laid;
All was the Night's, and in her silent reign No sound the rest of Nature did invade.
In this deep quiet, from what source unknown, Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose; 3°
And first few scattering sparks about were blown Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.
Then in some close-pent room it crept along And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;
Till the infant monster, with devouring strong, Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.
Now like some rich and mighty murderer,
Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold,
Who fresher for new mischiefs doth appear
And dares the world to tax him with the old, 40
So scapes the insulting fire his narrow jail And makes small outlets into open air;
There the fierce winds his tender force assail And beat him downward to his first repair.
And now, no longer letted of his prey, He leaps up at it with enraged desire,
O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey, And nods at every house his threatening fire.
The ghosts of traitors from the Bridge descend, With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice ; 50
About the fire into a dance they bend,
And sing their Sabbath notes with feeble voice.
THE FIRE OF LONDON 137
Our guardian angel saw them where they sate, Above the palace of our slumbering king;
He sigh'd, abandoning his charge to Fate,
And drooping, oft looked back upon the wing.
At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;
And long it was ere he the rest could raise Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night. 60
The next to danger, hot pursued by fate, Half -clothed, half -naked, hastily retire;
And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late, For helpless infants left amidst the fire.
Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near;
Now murmuring noises rise in every street; The more remote run stumbling with their fear,
And in the dark men jostle as they meet.
Now streets grow throng'd, and busy as by day: Some run for buckets to the hallowed quire; 70
Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play, And some, more bold, mount ladders to the fire.
Old father Thames raised up his reverend head, But fear'd the fate of Simois would return;
Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed, And shrunk his waters back into his urn.
The fire, meantime, walks in a broader gross;
To either hand his wings he opens wide; He wades the streets, and straight he reaches 'cross,
And plays his longing flames on th' other side. 80
138 BALLADS AND POEMS
At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take;
Now with long necks from side to side they feed; At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake,
And a new colony of flames succeed.
Now day appears, and with the day the king, Whose early care had robb'd him of his rest;
Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,
And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.
Himself directs what first is to be done,
And orders all the succours which they bring; 9°
The helpful and the good about him run, And form an army worthy such a king.
No help avails; for, Hydra-like, the Fire Lifts up his hundred heads to aim his way;
And scarce the wealthy can one half retire, Before he rushes in to share the prey.
At length the Almighty cast a pitying eye, And mercy softly touch'd his melting breast;
He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie,
And eager flames drive on to storm the rest, too
The vanquish' d fires withdraw from every place, Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep:
Each household genius shows again his face, And from the hearths the little Lares creep.
Methinks already from this chemic flame,
I see a city of more precious mould; Rich as the town which gives the Indies name,
With silver paved, and all divine with gold.
THE FIRE OF LONDON 139
Already labouring with, a mighty fate,
She shakes the rubbish from her mountain brow, 1 10 And seems to have renew'd her charter's date,
Which heaven will to the death of Time allow.
More great than human now, and more august, Now deified she from her fires does rise;
Her widening streets on new foundations trust, And opening into larger parts she flies.
Before, she like some shepherdess did show, Who sat to bathe her by a river's side;
Not answering to her fame, but rude and low, Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride. 120
Now, like a Maiden Queen, she will behold, From her high turrets, hourly suitors come;
The East with incense, and the West with gold, Will stand like suppliants to receive her doom.
The silver Thames, her own domestic flood, Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train;
And often wind, as of his mistress proud, With longing eyes to meet her face again.
JOHN DRYDEN.
140 BALLADS AND POEMS
THE SONG- OF THE WESTERN MEN. (1688)
A good sword and a trusty hand,
A merry heart and true! King James's men shall understand
What Cornishmen can do.
And have they fixed the where and when
And shall Trelawney die? Then twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!
Out spake the captain, brave and bold, —
A merry wight was he; 10
Though London Tower were Michael's hold, We'll set Trelawney free.
We'll cross the Tamar, land to land,
The Severn is no stay; And side by side, and hand in hand,
And who shall bid us nay?
And when we come to London wall,
A pleasant sight to view; — Come forth, come forth, ye cowards, all;
Here are better men than you! 20
Trelawney he's in keep in hold,
Trelawney he may die, But twenty thousand Cornish bold
Will know the reason why!
R. S. HAWKER.
THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE 141
THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE. (Battle of Killiecrankie, 1689)
On the heights of Killiecrankie
Y ester-morn our army lay; Slowly rose the mist in columns
From the river's broken way; Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent,
And the Pass was wrapped in gloom, When the clansmen rose together
From their lair amidst the broom. Then we belted on our tartans,
And our bonnets down we drew, 10
And we felt our broadswords' edges,
And we proved them to be true; And we prayed the prayer of soldiers,
Aoid we cried the gathering-cry, And we clasped the hands of kinsmen
And we swore to do or die ! Then our leader rode before us
On his war-horse black as night — Well the Cameronian rebels
Knew that charger in the fight! 20
And a cry of exultation
From the bearded warriors rose; For we loved the house of Claver'se,
And we thought of good Montrose. Bat he raised his hand for silence —
" Soldiers ! I have sworn a vow ; Ere the evening-star shall glisten
On Schehallion's lofty brow,
142 BALLADS AND POEMS
Either we shall rest in triumph,
Or another of the Graemes 30
Shall have died in battle-harness
For his country and King James! Think upon the Royal Martyr —
Think of what his race endure — Think on him whom butchers murder'd
On the field of Magus Muir: — By his sacred blood I charge ye —
By the ruin'd hearth and shrine — By the blighted hopes of Scotland —
By your injuries and mine — 40
Strike this day as if the anvil
Lay beneath your blows the while, Be they Covenanting traitors,
Or the brood of false Argyle! Strike! and drive the trembling rebels
Backwards o'er the stormy Forth; Let them tell their pale Convention
How they fared within the North. Let them tell that Highland honour
Is not to be bought nor sold — 50
That we scorn their Prince's anger,
As we loathe his foreign gold. Strike! and when the fight is over,
If ye look in vain for me, Where the dead are lying thickest,
Search for him that was Dundee I "
Loudly then the hills re-echoed
With our answer to his call, But a deeper echo sounded
In the bosoms of us all. 60
THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE 148
For the lands of wide Breadalbane
Not a man who heard him speak Would that day have left the battle.
Burning eye and flushing cheek Told the clansmen's fierce emotion,
And they harder drew their breath; For their souls were strong within them,
Stronger than the grasp of death. Soon we heard a challenge-trumpet
Sounding in the Pass below, 70
And the distant tramp of horses,
And the voices of the foe : Down we crouched amid the bracken,
Till the Lowland ranks drew near, Panting like the hounds in summer
When they scent the stately deer. From the dark defile emerging,
Next we saw the squadrons come, Leslie's foot and Leven's troopers
Marching to the tuck of drum; 80
Through the scattered wood of birches,
O'er the broken ground and heath, Wound the long battalion slowly,
Till they gained the field beneath; Then we bounded from our covert!
Judge how looked the Saxons then, When they saw the rugged mountain
Start to life with armed men ! Like a tempest down the ridges
Swept the hurricane of steel — 90
Kose the slogan of Macdoiiald,
Flashed the broadsword of Locheill! Vainly sped the withering volley
'Mongst the foremost of our band;
144 BALLADS AND POEMS
On we poured, until we met them —
Foot to foot, and hand to hand! Horse and man went down like driftwood
When the floods are black at Yule, And their carcasses are whirling
In the Garry's deepest pool. Horse and man went down before us;
Living foe there tarried none On the field of Killiecrankie,
When that stubborn fight was done!
And the evening-star was shining
On Schehallion's distant head, When we wiped our bloody broadswords,
And returned to count the dead. There we found him, gashed and gory
Stretch'd upon the cumbered plain, As he told us where to seek him —
In the thickest of the slain. And a smile was on his visage,
For within his dying ear Pealed the joyful note of triumph,
And the clansmen's clamorous cheer: So, amidst the battle's thunder,
Shot, and steel, and scorching flame, In the glory of his manhood
Passed the spirit of the Grasme !
Open wide the vaults of Athol, Where the bones of heroes rest —
Open wide the hallowed portals To receive another guest!
THE BURIAL MARCH OF DUNDEE 145
Last of Scots and last of freemen —
Last of all that dauntless race Who would rather die unsullied
Than outlive the land's disgrace 1 Oh, thou lion-hearted warrior 1
Reek not of the after-time: 13°
Honour may be deemed dishonour,
Loyalty be called a crime. Sleep in peace with kindred ashes
Of the noble and the true, Hands that never failed their country,
Hearts that never baseness knew. Sleep! — and till the latest trumpet
Wakes the dead from earth and sea, Scotland shall not boast a braver
Chieftain than our own Dundee! 140
W. E. AYTOUN.
ADMIRAL BENBOW. (1702)
0, we sail'd to Virginia, and thence to Fayal, Where we water'd our shipping, and then we weigh'd
all; Full in view on the seas, boys, seven sails we did
espy; 0, we manned our capstan, and weigh'd speedily.
The first we came up with was a brigantine sloop, And we ask'd if the others were as big as they
lookM;
But turning to windward as near as we could lie. We found there were ten men-of-war cruising by.
s. 10
146 BALLADS AND POEMS
O, we drew up our squadron in very nice line, And boldly we fought them for full four hours' time ; 10
But the day being spent, boys, and night coming on, We let them alone till the very next morn.
The very next morning the engagement proved hot, And brave Admiral Benbow received a chain-shot; And when he was wounded, to his men he did say, " Take me up in your arms, boys, and carry me away."
0, the guns they did rattle, and the bullets did fly,
But Admiral Benbow for help would not cry;
" Take me down to the cock-pit, there is ease for my
smarts, If my merry men see me, it will sure break their
hearts." 20
The very next morning, by break of the day, They hoisted their topsails, and so bore away; We bore to Port Royal, where the people flocked
much To see Admiral Benbow carried to Kingston Church.
Come, all you brave fellows, wherever you've been, Let us drink to the health of our king and our queen, And another good health to the girls that we know, And a third in remembrance of brave Admiral Benbow.
Anon.
AFTER BLENHEIM 147
AFTER BLENHEIM. (1704)
It was a summer evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done, And lie before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round, Which he beside the rivulet
In playing there had found; 10
He came to ask what he had found That was so large and smooth and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy
Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh — ["Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he, "Who fell in the great victory."
"I find them in the garden,
For there's many here about; 20
And often when I go to plough
The ploughshare turns them out. For many a thousand men," said he, "Were slain in that great victory."
10—2
148 BALLADS AND POEMS
"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
Young Peterkin he cries: And little Willielmine looks up
With wonder- waiting eyes; " Now tell us all about the war, And what they fought each other for." 30
"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout; But what they fought each other for
I could not well make out. But every body said," quoth he, "That 'twas a famous victory.
"My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly: 40
So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head.
"With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide, And many a childing mother then
And new-born baby died: But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory.
"They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won; 50
For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.
AFTER BLENHEIM 149
"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
And our good Prince Eugene." "Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine. "Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he, "It was a famous victory. 60
"And every body praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win." "But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin. "Why that I cannot tell," said he, "But 'twas a famous victory."
ROBERT SOUTHET.
THE VICAR OF BRAY, (c. 1720)
In good King Charles's golden days,
When loyalty no harm meant, A zealous High-Churchman was I,
And so I got preferment. To teach my flock I never miss'd
Kings were by God appointed; And lost are those that dare resist
Or touch the Lord's anointed.
And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir:
That whatsoever king shall reign, I'll be the Vicar of Bray, sir.
150 BALLADS AND POEMS
When royal James possess'd the crown,
And Popery grew in fashion, The penal laws I hooted down,
And read the Declaration. The Church of Rome I found would fit
Full well my constitution; And I had been a Jesuit,
But for the Revolution.
And this is law, etc.
When William was our King declared
To ease the nation's grievance, With this new wind about I steer'd
And swore to him allegiance. Old principles I did revoke,
Set conscience at a distance; Passive obedience was a joke,
A jest was non-resistance.
And this is law, etc.
When royal Anne became our Queen,
The Church of England's glory, 3°
Another face of things was seen,
And I became a Tory, Occasional conformists base,
I blamed' their moderation; And thought the Church in danger was
By such prevarication.
And this is law, etc.
THE VICAR OF BRAY 151
When George in pudding-time came o'er,
And moderate men look'd big, sir, My principles I changed once more,
And so became a Whig, sir. 40
And thus preferment I procured
From our new faith's defender; And almost every day abjured
The Pope and the Pretender.
And this is law, etc.
Th' illustrious house of Hanover
And Protestant succession, To them I do allegiance swear —
While they can keep possession; For in my faith and loyalty
I never more will falter, And George my lawful king shall be —
Until the times do alter.
5°
And this is law, etc.
Anon.
152 BALLADS AND POEMS
A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY. (1773)
No! never such a draught was poured
Since Hebe served with nectar The bright Olympians and their Lord,
Her over-kind protector, — Since Father Noah squeezed the grape,
And took to such behaving As would have shamed our grandsire ape
Before the days of shaving; No! ne'er was mingled such a draught
In palace, hall, or arbour, As freemen brewed and tyrants quaffed
That night in Boston Harbour!
It kept King George so long awake
His brain at last got addled, It made the nerves of Britain shake,
With sevenscore millions saddled: Before that bitter cup was drained,
Amid the roar of cannon, The Western war-cloud's crimson stained
The Thames, the Clyde, the Shannon; Full many a six-foot grenadier
The flattened grass had measured, And many a mother many a year
Her tearful memories treasured; Fast spread the tempest's darkening pall,
The mighty realms were troubled, The storm broke loose — but first of all
The Boston tea-pot bubbled!
A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY 153
An evening party, — only that,
No formal invitation, 30
No gold-laced coat, no stiff cravat,
No feast in contemplation, No silk-robed dames, no fiddling band,
No flowers, no songs, no dancing — A tribe of Eed men, axe in hand,
Behold the guests advancing!
How fast the stragglers join the throng,
From stall and workshop gathered! The lively barber skips along
And leaves a chin half -lathered ; 40
The smith has flung his hammer down,
The horse-shoe still is glowing ; The truant tapster at the Crown
Has left a beer-cask flowing; The cooper's boys have dropped the adze,
And trot behind their master; Up run the tarry ship-yard lads,
The crowd is hurrying faster. — Out from the mill-pond's purlieus gush
The streams of white-faced millers, 50
And down their slippery alleys rush
The lusty young Fort-Hillers ; The rope-walk lends its prentice crew, —
The tories seize the omen; "Ay, boys, you'll soon have work to do,
For England's rebel foemen, King Hancock, Adams, and their gang,
That fire the mob with treason, — When these we shoot and those we hang,
The town will come to reason." 60
154 BALLADS AND POEMS
On, on to where the tea-ships ride!
And now their ranks are forming, — A rush, and up the Dartmouth's side
The Mohawk band is swarming! See the fierce natives! What a glimpse
Of paint, and fur, and feather, As all at once the full-grown imps
Light on the deck together! A scarf the pig-tail's secret keeps,
A blanket hides the breeches, 7°
And out the cursed cargo leaps
And overboard it pitches!
A woman, at the evening board
So gracious, sweet, and purring, So happy while the tea is poured,
So blest while spoons are stirring, — What martyr can compare with thee,
The mother, wife, or daughter, That night, instead of best Bohea,
Condemned to milk and water 1 80
Ah, little dreams the quiet dame
Who plies with rock and spindle The patient flax, how great a flame
Yon little spark shall kindle! The lurid morning shall reveal
A fire no king can smother, Where British flint and Boston steel
Have dashed against each other! Old charters shrivel in its track,
His worship's bench has crumbled, 9°
It climbs and clasps the union- jack,
Its blazoned pomp is humbled;
A BALLAD OF THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY 155
The flags go down on land and sea,
Like corn before the reapers; So burned the fire that brewed the tea,
That Boston served her keepers I
The waves that wrought a century's wreck
Have rolled o'er Whig and Tory; The Mohawks on the Dartmouth's deck
Still live in song and story; 100
The waters in the rebel bay
Have kept their tea-leaf savour; Our old North-enders in their spray
Still taste a Hyson flavour; And freedom's tea-cup still o'erflows
With ever-fresh libations, To cheat of slumber all her foes
And cheer the wakening nations!
0. W. HOLMES.
THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. (1782)
Toll for the brave,
The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave
Fast by their native shore!
Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side.
156 BALLADS AND POEMS
A land breeze shook the shrouds,
And she was overset; 10
Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete !
Toll for the brave!
Brave Kempenfelt is gone, His last sea-fight is fought,
His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle;
No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak;
She ran upon no rock. 20
His sword was in its sheath,
His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down
With twice four hundred men.
Weigh the vessel up,
Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup
The tears that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound,
And she may float again, 30
Full charged with England's thunder,
And plough the distant main.
But Kempenfelt is gone,
His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the wave no more.
WILLIAM COWPER.
THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC 157
THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC. (1801)
Of Nelson and the North
Sing the glorious day's renown,
When to battle fierce came forth
All the might of Denmark's crown,
And her arms along the deep proudly shone,
By each gun the lighted brand,
In a bold determined hand,
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.
Like leviathans afloat 10
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British line:
It was ten of April morn by the chime:
As they drifted on their path
There was silence deep as death;
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.
But the might of England flushed
To anticipate the scene; 20
And her van the fleeter rushed
O'er the deadly space between.
" Hearts of oak ! " our captains cried, when each gun
From its adamantine lips
Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Like the hurricane eclipse
Of the sun.
168 BALLADS AND POEMS
Again ! again ! again !
And the havoc did not slack,
Till a feeble cheer the Dane 3°
To our cheering sent us back; —
Their shots along the deep slowly boom: —
Then ceased — and all is wail,
As they strike the shattered sail;
Or in conflagration pale
Light the gloom.
Out spoke the victor then
As he hailed them o'er the wave,
"Ye are brothers! ye are men!
And we conquer but to save: 40
So peace instead of death let us bring;
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet
With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet
To our King."
Then Denmark blessed our chief
That he gave her wounds repose;
And the sounds of joy and grief
From her people wildly rose,
As death withdrew his shades from the day: 50
While the sun looked smiling bright
O'er a wide and woeful sight,
Where the fires of funeral light
Died away.
Now joy, Old England, raise For the tidings of thy might, By the festal cities' blaze, Whilst the wine-cup shines in light;
THE BATTLE OF THE BALTIC 159
And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep 60
Full many a fathom deep
By thy wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore !
Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,
On the deck of fame that died
With the gallant good Riou;
Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er their grave!
While the billow mournful rolls
And the mermaid's song condoles, 70
Singing glory to the souls
Of the brave!
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR. (Nelson died 21 October, 1805)
Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he Whom every man in arms should wish to be ? It is the generous spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought: Whose high endeavours are an inward light That make the path before him always bright; Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, i
But makes his moral being his prime care;
160 BALLADS AND POEMS
Who, doom'd to go in company with Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train!
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature's highest dower;
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
Of their bad influence, and their good receives;
By objects, which might force the soul to abate
Her feeling, render'd more compassionate; 20
Is placable — because occasions rise
So often that demand such sacrifice;
More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure,
As tempted more; more able to endure
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
— 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on the best of friends!
Whence, in a state where men are tempted still
To evil for a guard against worse ill, 30
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
He fixes good on good alone, and owes
To virtue every triumph that he knows:
Who, if he rise to station of command,
Rises by open means; and there will stand
On honourable terms, or else retire,
And in himself possess his own desire;
Who comprehends his trust, and to the same
Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; 40
And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait
For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state:
Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come at all:
THE HAPPY WARKIOB 161
Whose powers shed round him in the common strife,
Or mild concerns of ordinary life,
A constant influence, a peculiar grace;
But who, if he be call'd upon to face
Some awful moment to which Heaven has join'd
Great issues, good or bad for human kind, 50
Is happy as a lover; and attired
With sudden brightness, like a man inspired:
And through the heat of conflict keeps the law
In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw;
Or if "an unexpected call succeed,
Come when it will, is equal to the need:
He who, though thus endued as with a sense
And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a soul whose master bias leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes: 60
Sweet images ! which, wheresoe'er he be,
Are at his heart: and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve:
More brave for this, that he hath much to love:
JTis, finally, the man, who, lifted high,
Conspicuous object in a nation's eye,
Or left unthought of in obscurity, —
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not,
Plays, in the many games of life, that one, 70
Where what he most doth value must be won;
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray;
Who, not content that former worth stand fast,
Looks forward, persevering to the last,
From well to better, daily self -surpassed :
s. 11
162
BALLADS AND POEMS
Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth For ever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or he must go to dust without his fame, And leave a dead, unprofitable name, Finds comfort in himself and in his ca-use; And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause: This is the happy warrior; this is he Whom every man in arms should wish to be.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
So
YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. (1807)
Ye Mariners of England
That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe; And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow ! While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave —
For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave:
YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND 163
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow ! While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow. 20
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy winds do blow! When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow. 30
The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean- warriors !
Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow ! When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow. 40
THOMAS CAMPBELL.
11—2
164 BALLADS AND POEMS
(1809)
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly, at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light
And the lanthorn dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; 10
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! 20
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, —
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE AT CORUNNA 165
But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the note for retiring:
And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory; 30
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory.
CHAKLES WOLFE.
WATERLOO.
(from "Childe Harold.")
(1815)
There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's Capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry — and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell !
Did ye not hear it? — No — 'twas but the wind, 10 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — But hark! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer — clearer — deadlier than before ! Arm! Arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar!
166 BALLADS AND POEMS
Within a windowed niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear 20 That sound the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro — And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 30 Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness — And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise !
And there was mounting in hot haste — the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war — 40
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the Morning Star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips — "The foe ! They come ! they come ! "
WATERLOO 167
And wild and high the " Cameron's Gathering " rose ! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes : — How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills 50 Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's — Donald's fame rings in each clansman's earsl
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass — Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 60 In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living Yalour, rolling on the foe, And burning with high Hope, shall moulder cold and low.
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life ; — Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay; The Midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The Morn the marshalling in arms, — the Day Battle's magnificently-stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, 70 Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, — friend, — foe, — in one red burial blent 1
168 BALLADS AND POEMS
Their praise is hymned by loftier hearts than mine ; Yet one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his Sire some wrong, And partly that bright names will hallow song; And his was of the bravest, and when showered The death-bolts deadliest the thinned files along, Even where the thickest of "War's tempest lowered, 80 They reached no nobler breast than thine, young, gallant Howard !
There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, And mine were nothing, had I such to give; But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, Which living waves where thou didst cease to live, And saw around me the wide field revive With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring. 90
LOED BYBON.
ENGLAND'S DEAD 169
ENGLAND'S DEAD.
Son of the Ocean Isle!
Where sleep your mighty dead? Show me what high and stately pile
Is reared o'er Glory's bed.
Go, stranger! track the deep —
Free, free the white sail spread 1 Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep,
Where rest not England's dead.
On Egypt's burning plains,
By the pyramid o'erswayed, 10
With fearful power the noonday rQJgns,
And the palm-trees yield no shade;
But let the angry sun
From heaven look fiercely red, Unfelt by those whose task is done! —
There slumber England's dead.
The hurricane hath might
Along the Indian shore, And far by Ganges' banks at night
Is heard the tiger's roar; — 20
But let the sound roll on!
It hath no tone of dread For those that from their toils are gone, —
There slumber England's dead.
170 BALLADS AND POEMS
Loud rush the torrent-floods
The Western wilds among, And free, in green Columbia's woods,
The hunter's bow is strung; —
But let the floods rush on!
Let the arrow's flight be sped! 30
Why should they reck whose task is done? —
There slumber England's dead.
The mountain-storms rise high
In the snowy Pyrenees, And toss the pine-boughs through the sky
Like rose-leaves on the breeze;
But let the storm rage on!
Let the fresh wreaths be shed! For the Roncesvalles' field is won, —
There slumber England's dead. 40
On the frozen deep's repose
'Tis a dark and dreadful hour, When round the ship the ice-fields close,
And the northern night-clouds lour; —
But let the ice drift on!
Let the cold-blue desert spread! Their course with mast and flag is done, —
Even there sleep England's dead.
The warlike of the isles,
The men of field and wave! 50
Are not the rocks their funeral piles,
The seas and shores their grave?
ENGLAND'S DEAD 171
Go, stranger! track the deep —
Free, free the white sail spread Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep
Where rest not England's dead.
MRS. HEMANS.
VICTOKIA'S TEAKS. (1837)
" 0 maiden ! heir of kings !
A king has left his place! The majesty of death has