BOOK I. (continued 2)

Hearken to me, gentlemen, Come and you shall heare; Ile tell you of two of the boldest brethren[429] That ever borne y-were. The tone[430] of them was Adler younge,5 The tother was kyng Estmere; The were as bolde men in their deeds, As any were farr and neare. As they were drinking ale and wine Within kyng Estmeres halle:[431]10 When will ye marry a wyfe, brothèr, A wyfe to glad us all? Then bespake him kyng Estmere, And answered him hastilee:[432] I know not that ladye in any land15 That's able[433] to marrye with mee. Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother, Men call her bright and sheene;[434] If I were kyng here in your stead, That ladye shold be my queene.20 Saies, Reade me,[435] reade me, deare brother, Throughout merry Englànd, Where we might find a messenger Betwixt us towe to sende. Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brothèr,25 Ile beare you companye; Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,[436] And I feare lest soe shold wee. Thus the renisht[437] them to ryde Of twoe good renisht[438] steeds,30 And when the came to king Adlands halle, Of redd gold shone their weeds.[439] And when the came to kyng Adlands hall Before the goodlye gate, There they found good kyng Adlànd35 Rearing[440] himselfe theratt. Now Christ thee save, good kyng Adlànd; Now Christ you save and see. Sayd, You be welcome, king Estmere, Right hartilye to mee.40 You have a daughter, said Adler younge, Men call her bright and sheene, My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe, Of Englande to be queene. Yesterday was att my deere daughtèr45 Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne;[441] And then she nicked[442] him of naye, And I doubt sheele[443] do you the same. The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim,[444] And 'leeveth[445] on Mahound;50 And pitye it were that fayre ladyè Shold marrye a heathen hound. But grant to me, sayes kyng Estmere, For my love I you praye; That I may see your daughter deere55 Before I goe hence awaye. Although itt is seven yeers and more Since my daughter was in halle, She shall come once downe for your sake To glad my guestès alle.60 Downe then came that mayden fayre, With ladyes laced in pall,[446] And halfe a hundred of bold knightes, To bring her from bowre to hall; And as many gentle squiers,65 To tend upon them all. The talents of golde were on her head sette, Hanged low downe to her knee; And everye ring on her small fingèr, Shone of the chrystall free.70 Saies, God you save, my deere madàm; Saies, God you save and see. Said, You be welcome, kyng Estmere, Right welcome unto mee. And if you love me, as you saye,75 Soe well and hartilèe, All that ever you are comen about Soone sped now itt shal bee. Then bespake her father deare: My daughter, I saye naye;80 Remember well the kyng of Spayne, What he sayd yesterdaye. He wold pull downe my halles and castles, And reave[447] me of my lyfe I cannot blame him if he doe,85 If I reave him of his wyfe. Your castles and your towres, father, Are stronglye built aboute; And therefore of the king of Spaine[448] Wee neede not stande in doubt.90 Plight me your troth, nowe, kyng Estmère, By heaven and your righte hand, That you will marrye me to your wyfe, And make me queene of your land. Then kyng Estmere he plight his troth95 By heaven and his righte hand, That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe, And make her queene of his land. And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre, To goe to his owne countree,100 To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes, That marryed the might bee. They had not ridden scant a myle, A myle forthe of the towne, But in did come the kyng of Spayne,105 With kempès[449] many one. But in did come the kyng of Spayne, With manye a bold baròne, Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carrye her home.110 Shee sent one after kyng Estmère In all the spede might bee, That he must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose his ladyè. One whyle then the page he went,115 Another while he ranne; Till he had oretaken king Estmere, I wis, he never blanne.[450] Tydings, tydings, kyng Estmere! What tydinges nowe, my boye?120 O tydinges I can tell to you, That will you sore annoye. You had not ridden scant a mile, A mile out of the towne, But in did come the kyng of Spayne125 With kempès many a one: But in did come the kyng of Spayne With manye a bold baròne, Tone daye to marrye king Adlands daughter, Tother daye to carry her home.130 My ladye fayre she greetes you well, And ever-more well by mee: You must either turne againe and fighte, Or goe home and loose your ladyè. Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brothèr,135 My reade shall ryde[451] at thee, Whether it is better to turne and fighte, Or goe home and loose my ladye. Now hearken to me, sayes Adler yonge, And your reade must rise[452] at me,140 I quicklye will devise a waye To sette thy ladye free. My mother was a westerne woman, And learned in gramaryè.[453] And when I learned at the schole,145 Something shee taught itt mee. There growes an hearbe within this field, And iff it were but knowne, His color, which is whyte and redd, It will make blacke and browne:150 His color, which is browne and blacke, Itt will make redd and whyte; That sworde is not in all Englande, Upon his coate will byte. And you shal be a harper, brother,155 Out of the north countrye; And Ile be your boy, soe faine of fighte,[454] And beare your harpe by your knee. And you shal be the best harpèr, That ever tooke harpe in hand;160 And I wil be the best singèr, That ever sung in this lande. Itt shal be written in our forheads All and in grammaryè, That we towe are the boldest men,165 That are in all Christentyè. And thus they renisht them to ryde, On tow good renish steedes: And when they came to king Adlands hall, Of redd gold shone their weedes.170 And whan the came to kyng Adlands hall, Untill the fayre hall yate,[455] There they found a proud portèr Rearing himselfe thereatt. Sayes, Christ thee save, thou proud portèr;175 Sayes, Christ thee save and see. Nowe you be welcome, sayd the portèr, Of what land soever ye bee. Wee beene harpers, sayd Adler younge, Come out of the northe countrye;180 Wee beene come hither untill this place, This proud weddinge for to see. Sayd, And your color were white and redd, As it is blacke and browne, I wold saye king Estmere and his brother185 Were comen untill this towne. Then they pulled out a ryng of gold, Layd itt on the porters arme: And ever we will thee, proud portèr, Thow wilt saye us no harme.190 Sore he looked on kyng Estmère, And sore he handled the ryng, Then opened to them the fayre hall yates, He lett[456] for no kind of thyng. Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede195 Soe fayre att the hall bord; The froth, that came from his brydle bitte, Light in kyng Bremors beard. Saies, Stable thy steed, thou proud harpèr, Saies, Stable him in the stalle;200 It doth not beseeme a proud harpèr To stable 'him' in a kyngs halle.[457] My ladde he is so lither,[458] he said, He will doe nought that's meete; And is there any man in this hall205 Were able him to beate. Thou speakst proud words, sayes the king of Spaine, Thou harper here to mee: There is a man within this halle, Will beate thy ladd and thee.210 O let that man come downe, he said, A sight of him wold I see; And when hee hath beaten well my ladd, Then he shall beate of mee. Downe then came the kemperye man,[459]215 And looked him in the eare; For all the gold, that was under heaven, He durst not neigh him neare.[460] And how nowe, kempe, said the kyng of Spaine, And how what aileth thee?220 He saies, It is writt in his forhead All and in gramaryè, That for all the gold that is under heaven, I dare not neigh him nye. Then kyng Estmere pulld forth his harpe,225 And plaid a pretty thinge: The ladye upstart from the borde, And wold have gone from the king. Stay thy harpe, thou proud harpèr, For Gods love I pray thee230 For and thou playes as thou beginns, Thou'lt till[461] my bryde from mee. He stroake upon his harpe againe, And playd a pretty thinge; The ladye lough[462] a loud laughter,235 As shee sate by the king. Saies, sell me thy harpe, thou proud harper, And thy stringès all, For as many gold nobles 'thou shalt have' As heere bee ringes in the hall.240 What wold ye doe with my harpe, 'he sayd, If I did sell itt yee? "To playe my wiffe and me a Fitt,[463] When abed together wee bee." Now sell me, quoth hee, thy bryde soe gay,245 As shee sitts by thy knee, And as many gold nobles I will give, As leaves been on a tree. And what wold ye doe with my bryde soe gay, Iff I did sell her thee?250 More seemelye it is for her fayre bodye To lye by mee then thee. Hee played agayne both loud and shrille,[464] And Adler he did syng, "O ladye, this is thy owne true love;255 Noe harper, but a kyng. "O ladye, this is thy owne true love, As playnlye thou mayest see; And Ile rid thee of that foule paynim, Who partes thy love and thee."260 The ladye looked, the ladye blushte, And blushte and lookt agayne, While Adler he hath drawne his brande, And hath the Sowdan slayne. Up then rose the kemperye men,265 And loud they gan to crye: Ah! traytors, yee have slayne our kyng, And therefore yee shall dye. Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde, And swith[465] he drew his brand;[466]270 And Estmere he, and Adler yonge Right stiffe in stour[467] can stand. And aye their swordes soe sore can byte, Throughe help of Gramaryè That soone they have slayne the kempery men,275 Or forst them forth to flee. Kyng Estmere tooke that fayre ladyè, And marryed her to his wiffe, And brought her home to merry Englànd With her to leade his life.280

"So helpe me Mahowne of might, And Termagaunt my god so bright."

"Like Mahound in a play, No man dare him withsay."

"The bard be sure was weather-wise who framed The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spens."

"To Noroway, to Noroway To Noroway o'er the faem The king's daughter of Noroway 'Tis thou maun bring her hame."

"The king's daughter to Noroway,"

The king sits in Dumferling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine: O quhar will I get guid sailòr, To sail this schip of mine? Up and spak an eldern knicht,5 Sat at the kings richt kne: Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailòr, That sails upon the se. The king has written a braid letter,[470] And signd it wi' his hand;10 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he: The next line that Sir Patrick red,15 The teir blinded his ee. O quha is this has don this deid, This ill deid don to me; To send me out this time o'the yeir, To sail upon the se?20 Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne.[471] O say na sae, my master deir, For I feir a deadlie storme. Late late yestreen I saw the new moone25 Wi' the auld moone in hir arme; And I feir, I feir, my deir mastèr, That we will com to harme. O our Scots nobles wer richt laith[472] To weet their cork-heild schoone;[473]30 Bot lang owre[474] a' the play wer playd, Thair hats they swam aboone.[475] O lang, lang, may thair ladies sit Wi' thair fans into their hand, Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence35 Cum sailing to the land. O lang, lang, may the ladies stand Wi' thair gold kems[476] in their hair, Waiting for thair ain deir lords, For they'll se thame na mair.40 Have owre,[477] have owre to Aberdour,[478] It's fiftie fadom deip: And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi' the Scots lords at his feit.[479]

"Hear undernead dis laitl stean laiȝ robert earl of huntingtun nea arcir ver aȝ hie sae geud an pipl kauld im Robin Heud sick utlaws as hi an is men vil England nivir si agen. obiit 24 kal. dekembris. 1247."[480]

"Lithe and lysten, gentylmen, That be of fre-bore blode: I shall you tell of a good yeman, His name was Robyn hode. "Robyn was a proude out-lawe, Whiles he walked on grounde; So curteyse an outlawe as he was one, Was never none yfounde," &c.

"I can rimes of Roben Hod, and Randal of Chester, But of our Lorde and our Lady, I lerne nothyng at all."

"In somer when the shawes be sheyne And leves be large and longe Hit is full mery in feyre foreste To here the foulys song."

When shaws beene sheene,[486] and shradds[487] full fayre,[488] And leaves both large and longe, Itt is merrye walking in the fayre forrèst To heare the small birdes songe.[489] The woodweele[490] sang, and wold not cease,[491]5 [Sitting upon the spraye,[492] Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood,[492] In the greenwood where he lay.[492] Now by my faye,[493] sayd jollye Robìn,[492] A sweaven[494] I had this night;[492]10 I dreamt me of tow wighty[495] yemen,[492] That fast with me can fight.][492] Methought they did mee beate and binde, And tooke my bow mee froe;[496] If I be Robin alive in this lande,15 Ile be wroken[497] on them towe. Sweavens are swift, Master, quoth John, As the wind that blowes ore a hill; For if itt be never so loude this night, To-morrow itt may be still.20 Buske yee, bowne yee,[498] my merry men all, And John shall goe with mee, For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomen, In greenwood where thé bee. Thé cast on their gownes of grene,25 [And tooke theyr bowes each one; And they away to the greene forrèst] A shooting forth are gone;[499] Untill they came to the merry greenwood, Where they had gladdest bee,30 There were thé ware[500] of a wight yeomàn, His body leaned to a tree. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, Of manye a man the bane;[501] And he was clad in his capull hyde[502]35 Topp and tayll and mayne. Stand you still, master, quoth Litle John, Under this tree so grene, And I will go to yond wight yeoman To know what he doth meane.[503]40 Ah! John, by me thou settest noe store, And that I farley[504] finde:[505] How offt send I my men beffore, And tarry my selfe behinde? It is no cunning a knave to ken,45 And a man but heare him speake; And itt were not for bursting of my bowe, John, I thy head wold breake. As often wordes they breeden bale,[506] So they parted Robin and John;50 And John is gone to Barnesdale: The gates[507] he knoweth eche one. But when he came to Barnesdale, Great heavinesse there hee hadd, For he found tow of his owne fellòwes55 Were slaine both in a slade.[508] And Scarlette he was flyinge a-foote Fast over stocke and stone, For the sheriffe with seven score men Fast after him is gone.60 One shoote now I will shoote, quoth John,[509] With Christ his might and mayne; Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast, To stopp he shall be fayne.[510] Then John bent up his long bende-bowe,[511]65 And fetteled[512] him to shoote: The bow was made of a tender boughe, And fell downe to his foote. Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,[513] That ere thou grew on a tree;70 For now this day thou art my bale, My boote[514] when thou shold bee. His shoote it was but loosely shott, Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine,[515] For itt mett one of the sherriffes men,75 Good William a Trent was slaine. It had bene better of William a Trent To have bene abed with sorrowe,[516] Than to be that day in the green wood slade[517] To meet with Little Johns arrowe.[518]80 But as it is said, when men be mett Fyve can doe more than three,[519] The sheriffe hath taken little John,[520] And bound him fast to a tree. Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,85 And hanged hye on a hill. But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose, quoth John,[521] If itt be Christ his will.[522] Let us leave talking of Litle John, And thinke of Robin Hood,[523]90 How he is gone to the wight yeomàn, Where under the leaves he stood. Good morrowe, good fellowe, sayd Robin so fayre,[524] "Good morrowe, good fellow, quoth he:" Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande95 A good archere thou sholdst bee.[525] I am wilfull[526] of my waye, quo' the yeman,[527] And of my morning tyde. Ile lead thee through the wood, sayd Robin; Good fellow, Ile be thy guide.100 I seeke an outlàwe, the straunger sayd,[528] Men call him Robin Hood; Rather Ild meet with that proud outlàwe[529] Than fortye pound soe good.[529] [Now come with me, thou wighty yeman,[530]105 And Robin thou soone shalt see:[530] But first let us some pastime find[530] Under the greenwood tree.][530] First let us some masterye[531] make[532] Among the woods so even,[532]110 Wee may chance to meet with Robin Hood Here att some unsett steven.[533] They cutt them downe two summer shroggs,[534] That grew both under a breere,[535] And sett them threescore rood in twaine115 To shoote the prickes[536] y-fere.[537] Leade on, good fellowe, quoth Robin Hood,[538] Leade on, I doe bidd thee. Nay by my faith, good fellowe, hee sayd,[539] My leader thou shalt bee.[540]120 The first time Robin shot at the pricke,[541] He mist but an inch it froe:[541] The yeoman he was an archer good,[541] But he cold never shoote soe. The second shoote had the wightye yeman,[542]125 He shote within the garlànde:[543] But Robin he shott far better than hee, For he clave the good pricke wande.[544] A blessing upon thy heart, he sayd;[545] Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode;130 For an thy hart be as good as thy hand, Thou wert better then Robin Hoode. Now tell me thy name, good fellowe, sayd he,[546] Under the leaves of lyne.[547] Nay by my faith, quoth bolde Robìn,[548]135 Till thou have told me thine.[549] I dwell by dale and downe, quoth hee, And Robin to take Ime sworne; And when I am called by my right name I am Guye of good Gisbòrne.140 My dwelling is in this wood, sayes Robin, By thee I set right nought: I am Robin Hood of Barnèsdale, Whom thou so long hast sought.[550] He that had neither beene kithe nor kin,145 Might have seene a full fayre sight, To see how together these yeomen went With blades both browne[551] and bright. To see how these yeomen together they fought[552] Two howres of a summers day:150 Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy[553] Them fettled to flye away. Robin was reachles[554] on a roote, And stumbled at that tyde; And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,155 And hitt him ore the left side. Ah deere Lady, sayd Robin Hood, tho That art both mother and may',[555] I think it was never mans destinye To dye before his day.160 Robin thought on our ladye deere, And soone leapt up againe, And strait he came with a "backward" stroke,[556] And he sir Guy hath slayne.[557] He took sir Guys head by the hayre,165 And sticked itt on his bowes end: Thou hast beene a traytor all thy liffe, Which thing must have an ende. Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe, And nicked sir Guy in the face,170 That he was never on woman born, Cold tell whose head it was.[558] Saies, Lye there, lye there, now sir Guye,[559] And with me be not wrothe; If thou have had the worse strokes at my hand,175 Thou shalt have the better clothe. Robin did off his gowne of greene, And on sir Guy did it throwe, And hee put on that capull hyde, That cladd him topp to toe.180 The bowe, the arrowes, and little horne, Now with me I will beare;[560] For I will away to Barnèsdale, To see how my men doe fare. Robin Hood sett Guyes home to his mouth,185 And a loud blast in it did blow. That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham, As he leaned under a lowe.[561] Hearken, hearken, sayd the sheriffe, I heare nowe tydings good,190 For yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe, And he hath slaine Robin Hoode. Yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe, Itt blowes soe well in tyde, And yonder comes that wightye yeoman,195 Cladd in his capull hyde. Come hyther, come hyther, thou good sir Guy, Aske what thou wilt of mee. O I will none of thy gold, sayd Robin,[562] Nor I will none of thy fee:200 But now I have slaine the master, he sayes, Let me go strike the knave; This is all the rewarde I aske; Nor noe other will I have. Thou art a madman, said the sheriffe,205 Thou sholdest have had a knights fee: But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad, Well granted it shale be. When Litle John heard his master speake, Well knewe he it was his steven:[563]210 Now shall I be looset, quoth Litle John, With Christ his might in heaven. Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John, He thought to loose him belive;[564] The sheriffe and all his companye215 Fast after him did drive. Stand abacke, stand abacke, sayd Robin; Why draw you mee soe neere? Itt was never the use in our countryè, Ones shrift another shold heere.220 But Robin pulled forth an Irysh kniffe, And losed John hand and foote, And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand, And bade it be his boote.[565] Then John he took Guyes bow in his hand,[566]225 His boltes and arrowes eche one: When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow, He fettled him to be gone. Towards his house in Nottingham towne,[567] He fled full fast away;230 And soe did all his companye: Not one behind wold stay. But he cold neither runne soe fast,[568] Nor away soe fast cold ryde,[568] But Litle John with an arrowe soe broad,[568]235 He shott him into the 'backe'-syde.[568]

Ad dominum properato meum mea pagina Percy, Qui Northumbrorum jura paterna gerit, Ad nutum celebris tu prona repone leonis, Quæque suo patri tristia justa cano. Ast ubi perlegit, dubiam sub mente volutet Fortunam, cuncta quæ male fida rotat. Qui leo sit felix, & Nestoris occupet annos; Ad libitum cujus ipse paratus ero.

"Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learned by rote, And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote."

I wayle, I wepe, I sobbe, I sigh ful sore The dedely fate, the dolefulle destenny Of him that is gone, alas! withoute restore, Of the blode[569] royall descendinge nobelly; Whos lordshepe doutles was slayne lamentably5 Thorow treson ageyn[570] hym compassyd and wrought; Trew to his prince, in word, in dede, and thought. Of hevenly poems, O Clyo calde by name In the college of musis goddess hystoriall, Adres the to me, whiche am both halt and lame10 In elect uteraunce to make memoryall: To the for soccour, to the for helpe I call Myne homely rudnes and drighnes to expelle With the freshe waters of Elyconys[571] welle. Of noble actes auncyently enrolde,15 Of famous princis and lordes of astate,[572] By thy report ar wonte to be extold, Regestringe trewly every formare date; Of thy bountie after the usuall rate, Kyndle in me suche plenty of thy noblès,[573]20 Thes sorrowfulle dities that I may shew expres. In sesons past who hathe harde or sene Of formar writinge by any presidente That vilane hastarddis[574] in ther furious tene,[575] Fulfyld with malice of froward entente,25 Confeterd[576] togeder of commoun concente Falsly to slo[577] ther moste singular goode lorde? It may be registerde of shamefull recorde. So noble a man, so valiaunt lorde and knight, Fulfilled with honor, as all the worlde dothe ken;30 At his commaundement, whiche had both day and night Knyghtis and squyers, at every season when He calde upon them, as menyall houshold men: Were no thes commones uncurteis karlis of kynde[578] To slo their owne lorde? God was not in their minde.35 And were not they to blame, I say also, That were aboute hym, his owne servants of trust, To suffre hym slayn of his mortall fo? Fled away from hym, let hym ly in the dust: They bode[579] not till the rekening were discust.40 What shuld I flatter? what shulde I glose[580] or paynt? Fy, fy for shame, their harts wer to faint. In Englande and Fraunce, which gretly was redouted;[581] Of whom both Flaunders and Scotland stode in drede; To whome grete astates obeyde and lowttede;[582]45 A mayny[583] of rude villayns made him for to blede: Unkindly they slew hym, that holp them oft at nede: He was their bulwark, their paves,[584] and their wall, Yet shamfully they slew hym; that shame mot[585] them befal. I say, ye commoners, why wer ye so stark mad?50 What frantyk frensy fyll[586] in youre brayne? Where was your wit and reson, ye shuld have had? What willfull foly made yow to ryse agayne[587] Your naturall lord? alas! I can not fayne. Ye armed you with will, and left your wit behynd;55 Well may you be called comones most unkynd. He was your chyfteyne, your shelde, your chef defence, Redy to assyst you in every tyme of nede: Your worship[588] depended of his excellence: Alas! ye mad men, to far ye did excede:60 Your hap was unhappy, to ill was your spede: What movyd you agayn hym to war or to fight? What aylde you to sle your lord agyn all right? The grounde of his quarel was for his sovereyn lord, The welle concernyng of all the hole lande,65 Demaundyng soche dutyes as nedis most acord To the right of his prince which shold not be withstand; For whos cause ye slew hym with your awne hande: But had his nobill men done wel that day, Ye had not been hable to have saide him nay.70 But ther was fals packinge,[589] or els I am begylde: How-be-it the matter was evident and playne, For yf they had occupied[590] ther spere and ther shelde, This noble man doutles had not be slayne. Bot men say they wer lynked with a double chayn,75 And held with the commouns under a cloke, Whiche kindeled the wyld fyre that made all this smoke. The commouns renyed[591] ther taxes to pay Of them demaunded and asked by the kinge; With one voice importune, they playnly said nay:80 They buskt them on a bushment[592] themself in baile[593] to bringe: Agayne the kings plesure to wrastle or to wringe,[594] Bluntly as bestis withe boste[595] and with cry They saide, they forsede[596] not, nor carede not to dy. The noblenes of the northe this valiant lorde and knyght,85 As man that was innocent of trechery or trayne, Presed forthe boldly to witstand the myght, And, lyke marciall Hector, he fauht them agayne, Vigorously upon them with myght and with mayne, Trustinge in noble men that wer with hym there:90 Bot all they fled from hym for falshode or fere. Barons, knights, squyers, one and alle, Togeder with servaunts of his famuly, Turnid their backis, and let ther master fall, Of whos [life] they counted not a flye;95 Take up whos wolde for them, they let hym ly. Alas! his golde, his fee, his annuall rente Upon suche a sort[597] was ille bestowde and spent. He was envyronde aboute on every syde Withe his enemys, that were stark mad and wode;[598]100 Yet whils he stode he gave them woundes wyde: Alas for routhe![599] what thouche his mynde were goode, His corage manly, yet ther he shed his bloode! All left alone, alas! he fawte in vayne; For cruelly amonge them ther he was slayne.105 Alas for pite! that Percy thus was spylt,[600] The famous erle of Northumberlande: Of knightly prowès the sworde pomel and hylt, The myghty lyoun[601] doutted[602] by se and lande! O dolorous chaunce of fortuns fruward hande!110 What man remembring how shamfully he was slayne, From bitter weepinge hymself kan restrayne? O cruell Mars, thou dedly god of war! O dolorous teusday, dedicate to thy name, When thou shoke thy sworde so noble a man to mar!115 O grounde ungracious, unhappy be thy fame, Whiche wert endyed with rede blode of the same! Moste noble erle! O fowle mysuryd[603] grounde Whereon he gat his fynal dedely wounde! O Atropos, of the fatall systers thre,120 Goddes mooste cruell unto the lyf of man, All merciles, in the ys no pitè! O homycide, whiche sleest[604] all that thou kan, So forcibly upon this erle thow ran, That with thy sworde enharpid[605] of mortall drede,125 Thou kit[606] asonder his perfight[607] vitall threde! My wordis unpullysht be nakide and playne, Of aureat[608] poems they want ellumynynge;[609] Bot by them to knoulege ye may attayne Of this lordis dethe and of his murdrynge.130 Which whils he lyvyd had fuyson[610] of every thing, Of knights, of squyers, chef lord of toure and toune, Tyl fykkill[611] fortune began on hym to frowne. Paregall[612] to dukis, with kings he myght compare, Surmountinge in honor all erls he did excede,135 To all cuntreis aboute hym reporte[613] me I dare. Lyke to Eneas benygne in worde and dede, Valiaunt as Hector in every marciall nede, Provydent, discrete, circumspect, and wyse,139 Tyll the chaunce ran agyne him of fortunes duble dyse. What nedethe me for to extoll his fame With my rude pen enkankerd all with rust? Whos noble actis shew worsheply his name, Transcendyng far myne homely muse, that must Yet sumwhat wright supprisid with hartly lust,[614]145 Truly reportinge his right noble astate, Immortally whiche is immaculate. His noble blode never disteynyd was, Trew to his prince for to defende his right, Doublenes hatinge, fals maters to compas,150 Treytory[615] and treson he bannesht out of syght, With trowth to medle was all his hole delyght, As all his kuntrey kan testefy the same: To slo suche a lord, alas, it was grete shame. If the hole quere[616] of the musis nyne155 In me all onely wer sett and comprisyde, Enbrethed with the blast of influence dyvyne, As perfightly as could be thought or devysyd; To me also allthouche it were promysyde Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence,160 All were to litill for his magnyficence. O yonge lyon, bot tender yet of age,[617] Grow and encrese, remembre thyn astate, God the assyst unto thyn herytage, And geve the grace to be more fortunate,165 Agayne rebellyouns arme to make debate. And, as the lyoune, whiche is of bestis kinge, Unto thy subjectis be kurteis and benyngne. I pray God sende the prosperous lyf and long, Stabille thy mynde constant to be and fast,170 Right to mayntein, and to resist all wronge: All flattringe faytors[618] abhor and from the cast, Of foule detraction God kepe the from the blast: Let double delinge in the have no place, And be not light of credence in no case.175 Wythe hevy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd, Eche man may sorrow in his inward thought, Thys lords death, whose pere is hard to fynd Allgyf[619] Englond and Fraunce were thorow saught. Al kings, all princes, all dukes, well they ought180 Bothe temporall and spirituall for to complayne This noble man, that crewelly was slayne. More specially barons, and those knygtes bold, And all other gentilmen with hym enterteynd In fee, as menyall men of his housold,185 Whom he as lord worsheply manteynd: To sorowfull weping they ought to be constreynd, As oft as thei call to ther remembraunce, Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce. O perlese prince of hevyn emperyalle,190 That with one worde formed al thing of noughte; Hevyn, hell, and erth obey unto thi kall; Which to thy resemblance wondersly hast wrought All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast boght, With thy blode precious our finaunce[620] thou dyd pay,195 And us redemed, from the fendys pray;[621] To the pray we, as prince incomperable, As thou art of mercy and pite the well, Thou bringe unto thy joye etermynable[622] The sowle of this lorde from all daunger of hell,200 In endles blis with the to byde and dwell In thy palace above the orient, Where thou art lorde, and God omnipotent. O quene of mercy, O lady full of grace, Maiden moste pure, and goddis moder dere,205 To sorowfull harts chef comfort and solace, Of all women O floure withouten pere, Pray to thy son above the starris clere, He to vouchesaf by thy mediatioun To pardon thy servant, and bringe to salvacion.210 In joy triumphaunt the hevenly yerarchy,[623] With all the hole sorte[624] of that glorious place, His soule mot[625] receyve into ther company Thorowe bounte of hym that formed all solace: Well of pite, of mercy, and of grace,215 The father, the son, and the holy goste In Trinitate one God of myghts moste.

* * * * * I loked about and saw a craggy roche, Farre in the west, neare to the element, And as I dyd then unto it approche, Upon the toppe I sawe refulgent The royal tower of Morall Document,5 Made of fine copper with turrettes fayre and hye, Which against Phebus shone so marveylously, That for the very perfect bryghtnes What of the tower, and of the cleare sunne, I could nothyng behold the goodlines10 Of that palaice, whereas Doctrine did wonne:[627] Tyll at the last, with mysty wyndes donne, The radiant brightnes of golden Phebus Auster gan cover with clowde tenebrus.[628] Then to the tower I drewe nere and nere,15 And often mused of the great hyghnes Of the craggy rocke, which quadrant did appeare: But the fayre tower, so much of ryches Was all about, sexangled doubtles; Gargeyld[629] with grayhoundes, and with manylyons,20 Made of fyne golde; with divers sundry dragons.[630] The little turrets with ymages of golde About was set, whiche with the wynde aye moved. Wyth propre vices,[631] the I did well beholde About the towers, in sundry wyse they hoved[632]25 With goodly pypes, in their mouthes i-tuned, That with the wynde they pyped a daunce, I-clipped[633] Amour de la hault plesaunce.

The toure was great and of marvelous wydnes, To whyche ther was no way to passe but one,30 Into the toure for to have an intres:[634] A grece[635] there was y-chesyled all of stone Out of the rocke, on whyche men dyd gone Up to the toure, and in lykewyse dyd I Wyth bothe the Grayhoundes in my company:[636]35 Tyll that I came unto a ryall gate, Where I sawe stondynge the goodly Portres, Whiche axed me, from whence I came a-late? To whome I gan in every thynge expresse All myne adventure, chaunce, and busynesse,40 And eke my name; I tolde her every dell: Whan she herde this, she lyked me right well. Her name, she sayd, was called Countenaunce; Into the besy[637] courte she dyd me then lede, Where was a fountayne depured[638] of pleasance,45 A noble sprynge, a ryall conduyte hede, Made of fyne golde enameled with reed; And on the toppe four dragons blewe and stoute Thys dulcet water in foure partyes dyd spout. Of whyche there flowed foure ryvers ryght clere,50 Sweter than Nylus[639] or Ganges was theyr odoure; Tygrys or Eufrates unto them no pere: I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure, Fragraunt of fume, swete as any floure; And in my mouthe it had a marveylous cent[640]55 Of divers spyces, I knewe not what it ment. And after thys farther forth me brought Dame Countenaunce into a goodly Hall, Of jasper stones it was wonderly wrought: The wyndowes cleare depured all of crystall,60 And in the roufe on hye over all Of golde was made a ryght crafty vyne; In stede of grapes the rubies there did shyne. The flore was paved with berall clarified, With pillers made of stones precious,65 Like a place of pleasure so gayely glorified, It myght be called a palaice glorious, So muche delectable and solacious;[641] The hall was hanged hye and circuler With cloth of arras in the rychest maner.70 That treated well of a ful noble story, Of the doubty waye to the Tower Perillous;[642] Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory Of many a serpente fowle and odious. * * * * *

"Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe: At length he seized her lilly-white hand, And downe the ladder he drewe."

"The baron he stroked his dark brown cheek, And turned his head aside To wipe away the starting tear, He proudly strave to hide."

[On yonder hill a castle standes With walles and towres bedight,[643] And yonder lives the Child of Elle, A younge and comely knighte. The Child of Elle to his garden wente,5 And stood at his garden pale, Whan, lo! he beheld fair Emmelines page Come trippinge downe the dale. The Child of Elle he hyed him thence, Y-wis he stoode not stille,10 And soone he mette faire Emmelines page Come climbing up the hille. Nowe Christe thee save, thou little foot-page, Now Christe thee save and see! Oh telle me how does thy ladye gaye,15 And what may thy tydinges bee? My lady shee is all woe-begone, And the teares they falle from her eyne; And aye she laments the deadlye feude Betweene her house and thine.20 And here shee sends thee a silken scarfe Bedewde with many a teare, And biddes thee sometimes thinke on her, Who loved thee so deare. And here shee sends thee a ring of golde25 The last boone thou mayst have, And biddes thee weare it for her sake, Whan she is layde in grave. For, ah! her gentle heart is broke, And in grave soone must shee bee,30 Sith her father hath chose her a new new love, And forbidde her to think of thee. Her father hath brought her a carlish[644] knight, Sir John of the north countràye, And within three dayes shee must him wedde,35 Or he vowes he will her slaye. Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And greet thy ladye from mee, And telle her that I her owne true love Will dye, or sette her free.40 Nowe hye thee backe, thou little foot-page, And let thy fair ladye know This night will I bee at her bowre-windòwe, Betide me weale or woe. The boye he tripped, the boye he ranne,45 He neither stint ne stayd Untill he came to fair Emmelines bowre, Whan kneeling downe he sayd, O ladye, I've been with thy own true love, And he greets thee well by mee;50 This night will he bee at thy bowre-windòwe, And dye or sette thee free. Nowe daye was gone, and night was come, And all were fast asleepe, All save the ladye Emmeline,55 Who sate in her bowre to weepe: And soone shee heard her true loves voice Lowe whispering at the walle, Awake, awake, my deare ladyè, Tis I thy true love call.60 Awake, awake, my ladye deare, Come, mount this faire palfràye: This ladder of ropes will lette thee downe, Ile carrye thee hence awaye. Nowe nay, nowe nay, thou gentle knight,65 Nowe nay, this may not bee; For aye shold I tint my maiden fame, If alone I should wend with thee. O ladye, thou with a knighte so true Mayst safelye wend alone,70 To my ladye mother I will thee bringe, Where marriage shall make us one. "My father he is a baron bolde, Of lynage proude and hye; And what would he saye if his daughtèr75 Awaye with a knight should fly? Ah! well I wot, he never would rest,] Nor his meate should doe him no goode, Until he had slayne thee, Child of Elle, And seene thy deare hearts bloode."80 O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette, And a little space him fro, I would not care for thy cruel fathèr, Nor the worst that he could doe. O ladye, wert thou in thy saddle sette,85 And once without this walle, I would not care for thy cruel fathèr, Nor the worst that might befalle. [Faire Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe:90 At length he seized her lilly-white hand, And downe the ladder he drewe: And thrice he clasped her to his breste, And kist her tenderlìe: The teares that fell from her fair eyes,95 Ranne like the fountayne free.] Hee mounted himselfe on his steede so talle, And her on a fair palfràye, And slung his bugle about his necke, And roundlye they rode awaye.100 [All this beheard her owne damsèlle, In her bed whereas shee ley, Quoth shee, My lord shall knowe of this, Soe I shall have golde and fee. Awake, awake, thou baron bolde!105 Awake, my noble dame! Your daughter is fledde with the Child of Elle, To doe the deede of shame. The baron he woke, the baron he rose, And called his merrye men all:110 "And come thou forth, Sir John the knighte, Thy ladye is carried to thrall."[645]] Faire Emmeline scant had ridden a mile, A mile forth of the towne, When she was aware of her fathers men115 Come galloping over the downe: [And foremost came the carlish knight, Sir John of the north countràye: "Nowe stop, nowe stop, thou false traitòure, Nor carry that ladye awaye.120 For she is come of hye lineàge, And was of a ladye borne, And ill it beseems thee a false churl's sonne To carrye her hence to scorne."] Nowe loud thou lyest, Sir John the knight,125 Nowe thou doest lye of mee; A knight mee gott, and a ladye me bore, Soe never did none by thee. But light nowe downe, my ladye faire, Light downe, and hold my steed,130 While I and this discourteous knighte Doe trye this arduous deede. But light now downe, my deare ladyè, Light downe, and hold my horse; While I and this discourteous knight135 [Doe trye our valour's force. Fair Emmeline sighed, fair Emmeline wept, And aye her heart was woe, While twixt her love and the carlish knight Past many a baleful blowe.140 The Child of Elle hee fought soe well, As his weapon he waived amaine, That soone he had slaine the carlish knight, And layd him upon the plaine. And nowe the baron, and all his men145 Full fast approached nye: Ah! what may ladye Emmeline doe? Twere nowe no boote[646] to flye. Her lover he put his horne to his mouth, And blew both loud and shrill,150 And soone he saw his owne merry men Come ryding over the hill. "Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baròn, I pray thee hold thy hand, Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts,155 Fast knit in true love's band. Thy daughter I have dearly loved Full long and many a day; But with such love as holy kirke Hath freelye sayd wee may.160 O give consent, shee may be mine, And blesse a faithfull paire: My lands and livings are not small, My house and lineage faire: My mother she was an earl's daughtèr,165 And a noble knyght my sire—— The baron he frowned, and turn'd away With mickle dole and ire." Fair Emmeline sighed, faire Emmeline wept, And did all tremblinge stand:170 At lengthe she sprang upon her knee. And held his lifted hand. Pardon, my lorde and father deare, This faire yong knyght and mee: Trust me, but for the carlish knyght,175 I never had fled from thee. Oft have you called your Emmeline Your darling and your joye; O let not then your harsh resolves Your Emmeline destroye.180 The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke, And turned his heade asyde To whipe awaye the starting teare, He proudly strave to hyde. In deepe revolving thought he stoode,185 And mused a little space; Then raised faire Emmeline from the grounde, With many a fond embrace. Here take her, Child of Elle, he sayd, And gave her lillye white hand;190 Here take my deare and only child, And with her half my land: Thy father once mine honour wrongde In dayes of youthful pride; Do thou the injurye repayre195 In fondnesse for thy bride. And as thou love her, and hold her deare, Heaven prosper thee and thine: And nowe my blessing wend wi' thee, My lovelye Emmeline.]200

Sayes, Christ thee save, good child of Ell! Christ saue thee and thy steede! My father sayes he will noe meate, Nor his drinke shall doe him noe good, till he have slaine the Child of Ell And have seene his harts blood. I wold I were in my sadle sett, And a mile out of the towne, I did not care for your father And all his merry men! I wold I were in my sadle sett, And a little space him froe, I did not care for your father And all that long him to! He leaned ore his saddle bow To kisse this Lady good; The teares that went them two betweene Were blend water and blood. He sett himselfe on one good steed This lady of one palfray And sett his litle horne to his mouth And roundlie he rode away. He had not ridden past a mile A mile out of the towne, Her father was readye with her seven brether He said, sett thou my daughter downe! For itt ill beseemes thee, thou false churles sonne, To carry her forth of this towne! But lowd thou lyest, Sir John the Knight! That now doest lye of me; A knight me gott and a lady me bore; Soe never did none by thee. But light now downe, my lady gay, Light downe and hold my horsse Whilest I and your father and your brether Doe play us at this crosse; But light now downe, my owne trew loue, And meeklye hold my steede, Whilest your father [and your brether] bold.]

"And round and round the wa's he went Their ashes for to view. At last into the flames he flew And bad the world adieu."

It fell about the Martinmas, Quhen the wind blew shril and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, We maun draw till a hauld.[649] And quhat a hauld sall we draw till,5 My mirry men and me? We wul gae to the house o' the Rodes, To see that fair ladìe. The lady stude on hir castle wa', Beheld baith dale and down:10 There she was ware of a host of men Cum ryding towards the toun.[650] O see ye nat, my mirry men a'? O see ye nat quhat I see? Methinks I see a host of men:15 I marveil quha they be. She weend[651] it had been hir luvely lord, As he cam ryding hame; It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, Quha reckt nae sin nor shame.20 She had nae sooner buskit[652] hirsel, And putten on hir goun, But Edom o' Gordon and his men Were round about the toun. They had nae sooner supper sett,25 Nae sooner said the grace, But Edom o' Gordon and his men, Were light about the place. The lady ran up to hir towir head, Sa fast as she could hie,30 To see if by hir fair speechès She could wi' him agree. But quhan he see this lady saif, And hir yates[653] all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath,35 And his look was all aghast. Cum doun to me, ye lady gay, Cum doun, cum doun to me: This night sall ye lig[654] within mine armes, To-morrow my bride sall be.40 I winnae[655] cum doun, ye fals Gordòn, I winnae cum doun to thee; I winnae forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me. Give owre your house, ye lady fair,45 Give owre your house to me, Or I sall brenn[656] yoursel therein, Bot and[657] your babies three. I winnae give owre, ye false Gordòn, To nae sik traitor as yee;50 And if ye brenn my ain dear babes, My lord sall make ye drie.[658] But reach my pistoll, Glaud, my man,[659] And charge ye weil my gun:[659] For, but an[660] I pierce that bluidy butcher,55 My babes we been undone. She stude upon hir castle wa', And let twa bullets flee:[659] She mist that bluidy butchers hart, And only raz'd his knee.60 Set fire to the house, quo' fals Gordòn, All wood wi' dule[661] and ire: Fals lady, ye sail rue this deid, As ye bren in the fire. Wae worth,[662] wae worth ye, Jock my man,65 I paid ye weil your fee; Quhy pu' ye out the ground-wa' stane.[663] Lets in the reek[664] to me? And ein[665] wae worth ye, Jock my man, I paid ye weil your hire;70 Quhy pu' ye out the ground-wa stane, To me lets in the fire? Ye paid me weil my hire, lady; Ye paid me weil my fee: But now I'm Edom o' Gordons man,75 Maun either doe or die. O than bespaik hir little son, Sate on the nurses knee: Sayes, Mither deare, gi' owre this house, For the reek it smithers me.80 I wad gie a' my gowd,[666] my childe, Sae wald I a' my fee, For ane blast o' the western wind, To blaw the reek frae thee. O then bespaik hir dochter dear,85 She was baith jimp[667] and sma: O row[668] me in a pair o' sheits, And tow me[669] owre the wa. They rowd hir in a pair o' sheits, And towd hir owre the wa:90 But on the point of Gordons spear, She gat a deadly fa. O bonnie bonnie was hir mouth, And cherry were hir cheiks, And clear clear was hir yellow hair,95 Whereon the reid bluid dreips. Then wi' his spear he turnd hir owre, O gin hir face was wan![670] He sayd, ye are the first that eir I wisht alive again.100 He turnd hir owre and owre againe, O gin hir skin was whyte![670] I might ha spared that bonnie face To hae been sum mans delyte. Busk and boun,[671] my merry men a',105 For ill dooms I doe guess; I cannae luik in that bonnie face, As it lyes on the grass. Thame, luiks to freits, my master deir,[672] Then freits wil follow thame:[672]110 Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon Was daunted by a dame. But quhen the ladye see the fire Cum flaming owre hir head, She wept and kist her children twain,115 Sayd, Bairns, we been but dead. The Gordon then his bougill[673] blew, And said, Awa', awa'; This house o' the Rodes is a' in flame, I hauld it time to ga'.120 O then bespyed hir ain dear lord, As hee cam owr the lee; He sied[674] his castle all in blaze Sa far as he could see. Then sair, O sair his mind misgave,125 And all his hart was wae; Put on, put on, my wighty men, So fast as ye can gae. Put on, put on, my wighty[675] men, Sa fast as ye can drie;[676]130 For he that is hindmost of the thrang, Sall neir get guid o' me. Than sum they rade, and sum they rin, Fou fast out-owr the bent;[677] But eir the foremost could get up,135 Baith lady and babes were brent. He wrang his hands, he rent his hair, And wept in teenefu' muid:[678] O traitors, for this cruel deid Ye sall weep teirs o'bluid.140 And after the Gordon he is gane, Sa fast as he might drie;[679] And soon i' the Gordon's foul hartis bluid, He's wroken[680] his dear ladie.

ffaith, Master, whither you will, whereas you like the best, Unto the castle of Bittons borrow, and there to take your rest. But yonder stands a Castle faire, is made of lyme and stone, Yonder is in it a fayre lady, her lord is ridden and gone. The lady stood on her castle wall, she looked upp and downe, She was ware of an hoast of men came rydinge towards the towne. See you not my merry men all, and see you not what I doe see? Methinks I see a hoast of men I muse who they shold be. She thought it had beene her lovly Lord, he had come ryding home: it was the traitor, Captaine Carre the Lord of Westerton towne They had noe sooner super sett, and after said the grace but the traitor Captaine Carre was light about the place. Give over thy house, thou lady gay I will make thee a band [i.e. bond] all night within mine armes thoust lye, to-morrow be the heyre of my land. Ile not give over my house, shee said neither for ladds nor man, nor yet for traitor Captaine Carre, Untill my lord come home. But reach me my pistoll pee [i.e. piece] and charge you well my gunne, Ile shoote at the bloody bucher the lord of westerton. She stood uppon her castle wall and let the bulletts flee, and where shee mist....

But then bespake the little child that sate on the nurses knee, saies, mother deere, give ore this house for the smoake it smoothers me. I wold give all my gold, my childe, soe wold I doe all my fee, for one blast of the westerne wind to blow the smoke from thee. But when shee saw the fier came flaming ore her head, She tooke them upp her children two Sayes, babes we all beene dead! But Adam then he fired the house, a sorrowfull sight to see: now hath he burned this lady faire and eke her children three Then Captain Carre he rode away, he staid noe longer at that tide, he thought that place it was to warme soe neere for to abide He calld unto his merry men all bidd them make hast away for we have slaine his children three all, and his lady gay. Word came to lovly loudon[1] to loudon[681] wheras her lord lay, his castle and his hall was burned all and his lady gay. Soe hath he done his Children three, More dearer unto him then either the silver or the gold that men soe faine wold win. But when he looket this writing on, Lord in is hart he was woe! saies, I will find thee, Captain Carre, wether thou ryde or goe! Buff yee, bowne yee, my merry men all with tempered swords of steele, for till I have found out Captaine Carre, My hart it is nothing weele. But when he came to dractons Borrow, soe long ere it was day, and ther he found him, Captaine Carre; that night he ment to stay.]