EARLY
POPULAR
SCOTTISH
POETRY
D LAING
LOL. II
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ARTES
1837
SCIENTIA
VERITAS
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
E-PLURIBUS UNUM:
TURBOR
|
SI-QUAERIS PENINSULAM AMOENAM
CIRCUMSPICE
1
:
8213
L18Ep
1.8 ap
1

Library of Did Authors.

1
We redeth oft and findeth y write'
and this clerkes wele it wite'
Layes that ben in harping.
ben y founde of ferlying'
sum bethe of wer and sum of wo'
and sum of ioie and merthe al so'
and sum of trecherie and of gile
of old auentours that fel while'
and sum of bourdes and ribaudry'
and mani ther beth of fairy'
of all thinges that men seth'
mest o loue for southe thai beth'
Auch. MS., fol. 261,

ནE---ཆ-AA11»
Early Popular Poetry of Scotland and
the Northern Border Edited by David
Laing LL.D. in 1822 and 1826
Ke-arranged and Revised with
Additions and a Glossary
By W. Carew
Hazlitt
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II
LONDON
REEVES AND TURNER
WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND
1895
[All Rights reserved]
066 110 241
i

CONTENTS
OF VOL. II
TOURS DREME
PAGE
I
SYMMIE AND HIS BRUTHER.
5
THE MANER OF THE CRYING OF ANE PLAYE
•
II
THE GYRE-CARLING
18
KING BERDOK
21
THE WOWING OF JOK AND JYNNY
24
A BALLET SHEWING HOW A DUMB WYFF WAS
MAID TO SPEIK
28
THE MURNING MAIDIN
34
WELCUM TO MAY.
44
THE WYF OF AUCHTERMUCHTY
•
47
ANE BALLAT OF ALLANE-A'-MAUT
60
SIR JOHN BARLEYCORN
64
ANE DESCRIPTIOUN OF PEDDER COFFEIS
67
ANE BALLAT OF MATRYMONIE
74
KING ESTMERE
80
ADAM BEL, CLYM OF THE CLEUGH, AND WILLIAM
OF CLOWDESLE
90
THE HISTORY OF SIR EGER, SIR GRYME, AND SIR
GRAY STEILL.
•
119
vii
viii
CONTENTS
THE HISTORY OF A LORD AND HIS THREE SONS
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
PAGE
211
• 239
THE PROMINE TO KING JAMES THE SEXT
ANE GODLIE DREAME, COMPYLIT IN SCOTISH
METER
•
268
279
THE LOVERS QUARREL; OR ROSAMOND OF SCOT-
LAND
302
INDEX OF PRINCIPAL MATTERS AND GLOSSARY.
321

THI
Lichtoun's Dreme.
'HIS very whimsical production, which contains some
curious allusions, is contained in Bannatyne's MS.,
1568, and is also preserved in Sir R. Maitland's MS., where
it is anonymous. Of the author nothing is known, except
that from the signature attached to it he appears to have
been of the priesthood. The only other poem attributed to
him is a religious poem, of six eight-line stanzas, beginning,
"O mortall man remembir nycht and day,"
the burden of each,-Memento homo quod cinis es.
In an old English poem,¹ full "of mervells," like this
Dream, at an entertainment which is described, we are
told-
The sowe sat on hye benke, and harpyd Robyn Howd,
The fox fydylyd, the raton rybybyd, the larke noty
with all,
The hombull bee hendyld the horne pype, for ham fyngers
wer small."
Lichtoun's Dreme.

UHA douttis Dremis ar bot phan-
tasye?—
My spreit was reft, and had in extasye,
My heid lay laich into this Dreme but
dout;
At my foirtop my five wittis flew out,
1 MS. Advocates' Library, Jac. V. 7. 27.
VOL. II.
A
2
LICHTOUN'S DREME
I murnit, and I maid a felloun mane:
Me thocht the King of Farye had me tane,
And band me in ane presoun, fute and hand,
Withoutin rewth, in ane lang raip of sand :
To perss the presoun wall it wes nocht eith,
For it was mingit, and maid with mussill teith; 10
And in the middis of it ane myne of flynt;
I sank thairin, quhill I was neir hand tynt,
And quhen I saw thair was none uthair remeid,
I flychterit up with ane feddrem of leid;
For that I thocht me ferys of my youth,
I tuke my lytill tae into my mouth,
And kest my self rycht with ane mychtie bend
Out thruch the volt, and percit nocht the pend;
And thus, I thocht into my dullie Dreme,
I brak my heid upoun ane know of reme;
That I suld hurt my self, I had dispyte,
And in all tene I turnit up full tyte,
Drank of ane well that wes gane drye sevin yeir,
Syne lap thre lowpis, and I was haill and feir.-
Syne eftir that I had eschapit this cace,
Me thocht I wes in monye divers place,
Quhill wer to lang to have in perfyte mynd;
In Egipt, Ireland, Arragone, and Ynd;
5
15
20
25
In Burgonye, Burdeaux, and in Bethleem,
In Jurye land, and in Jerusalem;
30
35
In France, in Freisland, and in Cowpland fellis,
Quhair clokkis clekkis crawburdis in cokill schellis;
In Poill, Pertik, Peblis, and Portjafe,
And thair I schippit into ane barge of drafe ;
We pullit up sailis, and culd our ankeris wey;
And suddanelye out thruch the throsin sey
We sailit in storme but steir, gyde, or glass
To Paradice, the place quhair Adame was.
Be we approchit into that port, in hye
We ware weill ware of Enoch and Elye,
40
LICHTOUN'S DREME
3
Sittand, on Yule evin, in ane fresch grene schaw,
Rostand straberries at ane fyre of snaw;
45
50
I thocht I wald nocht skar them in that place,
Quhill thai had drawin the burd, and said the grace:
Than suddanelie I wolk, out throw the plane
To see mae farleis, that I mycht tell agane,
Me thocht I happinnit on ane montane sone,
I wanderit up, and was wer of the Mone,
And had nocht bene I lowtit in the steid,
I had strukkin ane lump out of my heid.
Quhen I was weill, me thocht I culd nocht lief,
Bot than I tuke the Sone beme in my neif,
And wald haif clumin, bot at was in ane clipss;
Schortlie I slaid, and fell upon my hipss
Doun in ane medow, besyde ane busk of mynt; 55
I socht my self, and I was sevin yeir tynt,
Yit in ane mist I fand me on the morne.
I hard ane Pundler blaw ane elrich horne ;
And syne besyde me, in ane medow grene,
I saw thré quhyte quhailis, semelie to be sene; 60
Thair tedderis wes of grene greshopperis hair,
Off mige schankis baith clene, quhyte, and fair;
Thair tedderis wer maid weill grit to graip
With silkin schakillis, and sowlis of quhyte saip.
This Pundler ran fast, faynand for to find
Thir quhailis thré upoun his gerss to pind;
He had ane cloik weill maid, and wounder meit,
Off ganand graith, of gude gray girdill feit;
Ane cleirly coit maid, in courtly wyiss.
65
Of emmot skynis, with mony sketh and plyiss. 70
Ane pair of hoiss meid of ane auld myll hopper,
Ane pair of courtly schone of gude reid copper,
Ane heklit hud maid of the wyld wode sege :
Trest weill this Pundlar thocht him no manis pege;
He bure ane clube, made mony ane carle coy,
Maid of ane auld burd of the ark of Noy;
1
75
4
LICHTOUN'S DREME
He draif thir thré quhailis unto ane lie,
Ane him swelleit, and bare him to the sie,
And thair he levit on lempettis in her wame,
Quhill harvist tyme, that hirdis draif thame hame, 80
Be this wes done, the tuder twa returnit
To suallow me: grit dule I maid, and murnit :
Me thocht I fled, and throcht a park cowd pass
And walknit syne, quhair trow ye that I was?
Doun in ane henslaik, and gate ane fellon fall, 85
And lay betuix ane picher and the wall!
As wyffis commandis, this DREME I will con-
clude,
God and the Rude mot turn it all to gud!
Gar fill the cop, for thir auld Carlingis clames
That gentill Aill is oft the causs of Dremes.
90
Explicit quod Lichtoun Monicus.

Symmie and his Bruther.
IN a satirical poem 1 included in the present collection,
the "fwingeour coife" (a character in which the lewd and
inordinate lives of the secular clergy is drawn from existing
manners) at times is spoken of as
"
Peipand peurly with petous granis
Like fengeit Symmie and his bruder."
These persons are no doubt the heroes of the following
poem, which, as Lord Hailes has observed, seems to inti-
mate that they were what is termed in the Canons of the
Scotish Church, A.D. 1242 and 1296, quæstionarii, or
persons sent out by the Church upon a begging mission.
Kennedy, in order to throw ridicule upon Dunbar, repre-
sents him as one of these quæstionarii, or begging friars,
and says to him, with "cloutit cloke, skyrp, burdoun, and
clam-schellis,"
Fra Ettrick forest furthward to Dumfrese,
Thow beggit with a pardon in all kirkis,
Collapis, cruddis, meil, grotis, gryce, and geis,
And undernicht quhyle stall thow staigs and stirkis." 2
The poem itself is certainly obscure, and perhaps not
quite entire, but possesses a considerable share of humour
in its descriptions, even although it falls very far short of
"Peblis to the Play" or "Christis Kirk on the Grene," of
one or other of which it may be considered as an imitation.
The stanza in which it is written, however, was popular
during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; and amidst the
1 Ane Descriptioun of Pedder Coffeis.
2 Flyting.
5
6
SYMMIE AND
›
contrariety of opinions that have been expressed respecting the
age of these compositions, it might be difficult to assign the
present poem, with any degree of certainty, to a particular
date. The seven opening stanzas appeared in Sibbald's
"Chronicle of Scotish Poetry.". 1
T
Followis Sym and his Bruder.
HAIR is no story that I of heir,
Of Johnne nor Robene Hude,
Nor git of Wallace wicht but weir,
That me thinke half so gude,
As of thir Palmare twa but peir,
To heir how thay conclude;
In to begging I trow fyve geir
In Sanct Androp thay stude

togidder,
Bayth Sym and his bruder.
Thot thay war wicht, I warrand gow,
Thay had no will to wirk;
Thay maid them burdownis not to bow,
Twa bewis of the birk,
Weill stobbit wt steill, I trow
To stik in to pe mirk;
Bot sen pair bairde grew on þr mow
They saw nevir þe kirk
wt in,
Nowthir Syme nor his bruder.
Syne schupe thame vp to lowp or leiss,
Twa tabartis of the tartane;
Thay compt not quhat þº clowtis weis
Wes sewit þaï on incertane;
1 Vol. i. p. 360.
5
10
16
20
Лока
HIS BRUTHER
7
Syne clapit vp sanct Peterę keiss,
Bot of ane auld reid gartane :
Sanct James fchelle on be topr syd sleuis
As pretty as ony pertane
ta,
On Sym and his bruder.
Thus quhe thai had reddit þr ragis,
To rome they war inspyrit ;
Tuk vp thair joupis and all thair jaggis,
Fure furt as thay war hyrit;
And ay be eldest bure pe baggis
25
gaste
30
35
Qn that be gungest tyrit;
Tuk counfall at Kinkelle craggis,
Come hame as thay war hyrït
agane,
Baith Sym and his bruþer.
Than held thay houfs, as men me telle,
And spendit of thair feis;
Quhen meit wes went, thay flew our felle
Als bissy as ony beis;
Syne clengit sanct Jameis schelle
And pecis of palme treis ;
To sé quha best the pardone spelle,
I schrew pame þat ay leiss
but lauchter,
q Sym to his bruder.
Quhen thay wer weltfull in þair wỹning,
Thay puft thame vp in pryd;
Bot quhair that Symy levit in sỹnyng,
His bruder wald haif ane bryd;
Hir wedoheid fra the begyning
Wes neir ane moneth tyd;
40
45
50
бо
8
SYMMIE AND
со
Separ
Gif scho wes spedy ay in spỹning
Tak witness of thame besyd
ilk ane,
Baith Sym and his bruder.
Colle Cost
The carlis they thikkit fast in cludeę,
Agane pe mā wes mareit,
Wt breid & beif, and vþ bude, gift
Syne to the kirk thay kareit;
But or thay twynd him his dudis,
The tyme of none wes tareit :
Wa worth this wedding, for be this wide
The meit is all miskareit
to day!
q Sym and his bruder.
Our all the houss be lyne and levall,
The ladis came to luk him;
To tak a justing of þat javell,
The bryd wount not to bruk him
Thay maneist him wt mony nevell
Tha Sỹme raiss and schuk him,
I cleme to clery q the cavell
How dar thow cum to luk him
Jondir?
q Sym and his bruder.
Wt that pe carle begowt to crak,
Glowrit vp and gaif a glufe;
His beird it wes als lang t blak,
That it hang our his mvif;
He wes als lang vpoun the bak,
As evir wes Angus Dufe;
He sayis, this justing I vndirtak,
My coit is of gud stuffe,
call to,
60
70
76
80
85
q Sym and his bruder.
90
HIS BRUTHER
9
He hoppit sa mycht na mã hald him,
Said blame me bot I bind him ;
I sall ourtak him, and þat I tald him,
feild gife I fynd him,
In gone
On his gray meir fast furt they cald him
The floke flew furt behind him,
95
Thay daschit him doun, þe dirt ourhaild him,
Thã start thay to and tind him
tyt,
Baith Sym and his bruder.
Thã brak he lowss, the horss þat bair him
Ran startling to Stratyrum,
And he gat vp, and Sỹme swair him
ze meit not bot ge myr him ;
100
Off þat fowll courss for to declair him
The cairlis come to requyr him,
105
Than all þe laddę cryd wt a lairrū
To flud him & to flyr him
bayth,
q Syme and his bruder.
This was no bourdone to brown hill
110
That gatt betwene be browis,
And had no thing ado pr till
As mony vder trewis
Bot come furt on his awin gud will
115
To Squyar Johne of Mowis,
He gratt and sit up in þe schill,
And þt the laddę allowis
ilk ane,
To Sym and his bruder,
gob Symer was the stirrepman,
Was nolt hird of þe toun,
He said I will just as I can,
Sen he is strickin doun;
120
IO SYMMIE AND HIS BRUTHER
He gatt twa plaitis of ane awld pan,
Ane breist plait made him boun,
The first rynk raif his mowt a span,
And þr he fell in swoune
almaist,
Bayt Sym and his bruder.
Doun fra þe leggis quhë he wes laist
He maid a peteouss panting,
He swownit the swelt almaist
For gaping for ganting;
Abyd q the leich I sé a waist,
His wrang twch is in wanting,
God saif him & the Haly Gaist
And keip pe mā fra māting
mekle,
q Sym and his bruder.
His mowth was schent, and sa forschorne,
Held nowdir wind nor watter ;
Fair weill all blast of blawing horne,
He mycht not do bot blatter:
125
130
135
140
He ende þe story wt harme forlorne,
The nolt begowt till skatter,
145
The ky ra startling to be corne,
Wa worth the tyme thow gat hir
now!
q Symmie till his bruder,
Explicit.
150

The Maner of the Crying of ane
IN
Playe.
N the following curious Interlude, the Genius of Wealth
is represented under the character of a blind pigmy, or
one of a distinct race of lesser divinities, peculiar to the
mythology of the Northern nations. They were supposed
to inhabit the rocks in the wildest recesses, and to be pos-
sessed of immense riches in gold and precious stones. As
expressive of their dwarfish size, they were called Duerghar,
or Droichs. Accordingly, in Bannatyne's manuscript it is
entitled "Ane little interlude of the Droichis part of the
play," although we are unable to say whether it actually
formed a part of any dramatic poem, as assuredly no com-
position of the same period now exists that can be dignified
with the title of the Play. The earliest drama that belongs
exclusively to our country is "The Satire of the thrie Estaits,"
which it is certain was not written before the year 1535, and
therefore, to connect this Interlude with that most singular
production, or assign them both to the same author, as have
repeatedly been done, is very erroneous. The present poem
evidently belongs to the reign of James IV., and not of his
successor; and instead of being the work of Sir David
Lyndsay, it seems to bear sufficient evidence of the hand
of his contemporary Blind Harry, author of the "Wallace."
The volume that has furnished the present copy (written
by John Asloan, apparently in or before the year 1515) was
formerly in the possession of Sir Alexander Boswell of Auchin-
leck, Bart. Besides presenting the text in a more genuine
state, it contains several stanzas of a local nature, and of
no inconsiderable interest, that do not occur in Bannatyne's
later manuscript, from which it has hitherto been printed.
II
12
THE MANER OF THE
Heir followis the maner of the crying of ane Play.

HI
ARRY, harry, hobillschowe!
Se quha is cummyn nowe,
Bot I wait nevir howe,
With the quhorle wynd?
A Soldane owt of Seriand,¹
A gyand strang for to stand,
That with the strength of my hand
Beres may bynd.
git I trowe that I wary,
I am the nakit blynd Harry,
That lang has bene in the fary,
Farleis to fynd;
And git gif this be nocht I,
I wait I am the spreit of Gy,
Or ellis go by the sky,
Licht as the lynd.
The God of most magnificence,
Conserf this fair presens,
And saif this amyable audiens,
Grete of renovne ;
Prowest, baillies, officeris,
And honerable induellaris,
Marchandis, and familiaris,
Of all this fair towne.
Quha is cummyn heir, bot I,
A bauld bustuoss bellamy,
At your corss to mak a cry,
With a hie sowne?
10
5
10
15
20
20
25
1 In Bann. MS. reads 'A sargeand out of Sowdoun land."
CRYING OF ANE PLAYE
13
Quhilk generit am of gyandis kynd,
Fra strang Hercules be strynd,
Off all the occident of Ynd
My eldaris bair the crovne.
My fore grantschir hecht Fyn McKowle,
That dang the devill, and gart him gowle,
The skyis ranyd quhen he wald scowle,
And trublit all the air:
He gat my grantschir Gog Magog;
Ay quhen he dansit, the warld wald schog;
Five thousand ellis geid in his frog,
Of Hieland pladdis of hair.
git he was bot of tendir gouth;
Bot eftir he grewe mekle at fouth,
Ellevyne ell¹ wyde met was his mouth,
His teith was ten myle sqwair.
He wald apon his tais stand,
And tak the sternis dovne with his hand,
And set tham in a gold garland
Aboue his wyfis hair.
He had a wyf was lang of clift
Hir hed was hiear than the lift
;
30
35
40
45
50
The hevyne rerdit quhen scho wald rift;
The lass was no thing sklender :
Scho spittit Loch-Lomond with hir lippis;
Thunner and fyre-flaucht flewe fra hir hippis ;
Quhen scho was crabit, the son tholit clippis ;
The fende durst nocht offend hir,
For cald scho tuke the fevir cartane;
For all the claith of Fraunce and Bertane,
Wald nocht be till hir leg a gartane,
Thocht scho was gung and tendir;
1 'Ellevyne mylle' in Bann. MS.
56
60
14
THE MANER OF THE
Apon a nycht heir in the North,
Scho tuke the grawell, and stalit Cragorth,
Scho pischit the mekle watter of Forth;
Sic tyde ran efter hendir.
A thing writtin of hir I fynd
In Irland quhen scho blewe behynd,
At Noroway costis scho rasit the wynd,
And gret schippis drownit thar.
Scho fischit all the Spange seis,
With hir sark lape befor hir theis
Sevyne dayis saling 1 betuix hir kneis
Was estymit and mair.
The hyngand brayis on aithir syde,
Scho poltit with hir lymmis wide
Lassis mycht leir at hir to stryd,
Wald ga to lufis lair.
Scho merkit syne to land with myrth;
And pischit fyf quhalis in the Firth,
65
70
75
1
That cropyn war in hir geig for girth,2
Welterand amang the wair.
My fader, mekle Gow Makmorne,
Out of that wyfis wame was schorne;
For litilness scho was forlorne,
Sic a kempe to beir :
Or he of eld was geris thre,
He wald stepe ovr the Occeane se ;
The mone sprang neuer aboue his kne ;
The hevyn had of him feir.
Thré dayis sailing.' Bann. MS.
80
85
2 A word or two in this line has been supplied from
Bann. MS.
CRYING OF ANE PLAYE
15
4
Ane thousand ger is past fra mynd,
Sen I was generit of his kynd,
Full far amang the desertis of Ynde,
Amang lyoun and beir :
Baith the King Arthour and Gawane,
And mony bald berne in Brettane,
Ar deid, and in the weris slane,
Sen I couth weild a speir.
I haue bone forthwart euer in feild,
And now so lang I haf borne scheld,
That I am all crynd in for eld
This litill, as ge may se.
I haue bene bannist wnder the lynd
Full lang, that no man couth me fynd,
And now with this last southin wynd,
I am cummyn heir pardè.
My name is WELTH, thairfor be blyth,
I am come heir comfort zow to kyth ;
Supposs that wretchis wryng and wryth,
All darth I sall gar de;
For sekerly, the trueth to tell,
I come amang gow heir to duell,
Fra sound of sanct Gelis bell,
Nevir think I to fle.
Sophea and the Soldane strang,
With weris that has lestit lang,
90
95
100
105
110
Furth of thar boundis maid me to gang, 115
And turn to Turky tyte.
The King of Frauncis gret army,
Has brocht in darth in Lombardy;
And in ane cuntre he and I
May nocht baith stand perfyte.
120
16
THE MANER OF THE
In Denmark, Swetherik, and Noroway,
Na in the Steidis I dar nocht ga;
Amang thaim is bot tak and sla,
Cut thropillis, and mak quyte.
Irland for evir I haue refusit,
All wichtis suld hald me excusit,
For neuer in land quhar Erische was vsit
To duell had I delyte.
Quharfor in Scotland come I heir,
With gow to byde and preseveir,
In Edinburgh, quhar is meriast cheir,
Plesans, disport and play;
Quhilk is the lampe, and A per se,
Of this regioun, in all degre,
Of welefair, and of honeste,
Renovne, and riche aray.
Sen I am Welth, cummyn to this wane,
ge noble merchandis euerilkane,
Address gow furth with bow and flane,
In lusty grene lufraye ;
And follow furth on Robyn Hude,
With hartis coragiouss and gud,
And thocht that wretchis wald ga wod,
Of worschipe hald the way.
For I, and my thre feres aye,
WEILFAIR, WANTONESS, and PLAY,
Sall byde with gow, in all affray,
And cair put clene to flicht :
And we sall dredless ws address,
To banniss derth, and all distress ;
And with all sportis, and meryness,
Jour hartis hald euer on hicht.
125
130
135
140
145
150
CRYING OF ANE PLAYE
17
Sen 1 I am of mekle quantite,
Of gyand kynd, as ge may se,
Quhar sall be gotten a wyf to me
Sicklyke of breid and hicht?
I dreid that thair be nocht a bryde,
In all this towne may me abyd,
Quha wait gif ony heir besyde,
Micht suffer me all nycht.
With gow sen I mon leid my lyf,
Gar serss baith Louthiane and Fyf,
And vale to me a mekle wyf,
A gret vngraciouss gan;
Sen scho is gane, the Gret FORLORE
[Of BABYLON, that I full yore
Espousit, quhan we tochir store
Fra gud sanct Dawy wan.]2
Adew! fairweill; for now I go,
Bot I will nocht lang byd gow fro
Chryst gow conserve fra every wo,
;
Baith madin, wyf, and man.
God bliss thame, and the haly rude,
Givis me a drink, sa it be gude;
And quha trowis best that I do lude,
Skynk first to me the kan.
Finis off the droichis part of the play.
155
150
165
170
175
1 'Sen' in 1. 153, and ‘bryde' in l. 157, are supplied from
Bann. MS.
2 This Interlude in Asloane's MS. is incomplete, the leaf
which had the conclusion being lost. As Bannatyne's MS.,
from which the subsequent stanza is given, does not contain
the former, these three lines were kindly supplied by a friend,
who has given the public more ample specimens of the
success with which he has cultivated the ancient ballad-
style of our poetry.
VOL. II.
B

The Gyre-Carling.
GYRE-CARLING is the name of the Hecate, or Mother
Witch, of the Scotish peasantry, who is sometimes
identified with the Queen of the Fairies. Carling, Dr.
Leyden explains as being the feminine of carl, and as used
"to denote an old hag or witch; hence compounded with
the Isl. gier; R. gier; Al. geyr; the Gyre-Carling, the
Queen of Fairies, the Great Hag, Hecate, or Mother Witch
of the peasants, concerning whom many popular stories
were formerly current, and rude burlesque verses are still
repeated." 1 Frequent allusions in our early writers occur
respecting these superstitions. Sir David Lyndsay,
"who
feinzeit many fabillis" for the amusement of his royal pupil,
James V., reminds him how, in his tender years, he was
accustomed with
"
mony plesand storye,
Of the Reid Etin, and the Gyer Carling,
Confortand thé, quhen that I saw thé sorye.'
"12
And Montgomery, with great minuteness, in the "Flyting,"
describes the array of Nicnevin (another of her popular
appellations), and her "elrich" company in their procession
on All-hallow-evin.3
After the Editor had transcribed the following burlesque
fragment from Bannatyne's manuscript, he found that it
4
1 Glossary to Complaynt of Scotland, 8vo, 1801, p. 318.
See also Dr. Jamieson's Dict, sub v. ; and Mr. Chalmers'
Glossary in his edition of Lyndsay.
2 Lyndsay's Works, vol. i. p. 189.
3 Montgomery's Poetical Works, edit. 8vo, 1821, p. 113.
4 Fol. 136 b.
18
THE GYRE-CARLING
19
had been introduced into the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border," in the interesting and valuable dissertation “On
the Fairies of Popular Superstition." Leyden had previously
remarked the peculiarity of its commencing in the same
manner as "The Warris of the Jewis," an alliterative poem
preserved in the British Museum, which is cited by Warton.3
2
The Gyre-Carling."'

N Tiberius tyme, the trew Imperiour,
Quhen Tinto hillis fra skraiping of
toun-henis was keipit,
Thair dwelt ane grit Gyre-Carling in
awld Betoke bour,
That levit vpoun Christiane menis flesche, and
rewtheide vnleipit;
Thair wỹnit ane her by, on the west syd, callit
Blasour,
For luve of hir lawchane lippis, he walit and he
weipit ;
He gadderit ane mengie of modwarte to warp
doun the tour:
5
The carling wt ane yrne club, quhen þat Blasour
sleipit,
Behind the heill scho hatt him sic ane blaw,
Quhill Blasour bled ane quart
Of milk pottage inwart,
The Carling luche, and lut fart
North Berwik Law.
10
The king of Fary than come, wt elffis mony ane,
And sett ane sege, and ane salt, wt grit pensalle
of pryd ;
1 Vol. ii. p. 174, edit. 1803.
2 MSS. Cotton, Calig. A II. 109.
3 Warton's Hist. of Poetry, vol. i. p. 311.
15
20
THE GYRE-CARLING
And all the doggis fra Dumbar wes thair to
Dumblane,
Wt all the tykis of Tervey, come to thame that
tyd;
Thay gnew doun wt thair gomes mony grit stane,
The Carling schup hir in ane sow, and is hir
gaitis gane,
Gruntlyng our the Greik sie and durst na langer
byd,
For bruklyng of bargane, & breking of browis :
The Carling now for dispyte
Is mareit wt Mahomyte,
And will the doggis interdyte,
For scho is quene of Jowis.
20
25
Sensyne the cokkis of Crawmound crew nevir a
day,
For dule of þat devillisch deme was wt Mahoun
mareit,
And the henis of Haddingtoun sensyne wald not
lay,
For this wyld wilroun wich thame widlit sa &
wareit ;
And be same North Berwick Law, as I heir wyvis
say,
30
This Carling, wt a fals cast, wald away carreit :
For to luk on quha sa lykis, na langer scho tareit.
All this lango" for luve befoir tymes fell,
Lang or Betok was born,
Scho bred of ane accorne;
The laif of the story to morne
To gow I sall tell.
Explicit.
35

ΤΗ
King Berdok.
HIS singular fragment, preserved in George Bannatyne's
Manuscript,¹ was overlooked by the earlier editors of
Scotish Poetry, except by John Leyden, who alludes to it
in his interesting and learned introduction to the "Com-
playnt of Scotland."2 Although it may now be impossible
to ascertain the individual work, the ludicrous nature of
this fairy tale plainly intimates that it was intended as a
burlesque of some "geste" or romantic story, which may
have been popular at the time of its composition.
King Berdok.

YM of Lyntoun be pe ramis horn,
Quhe Phebus rang in signe 3 of Capri-
corn
And the mvne wes past the gusß cro,
Thair fell in France ane jeperdie forlo,
Be pe grit king of Babilon, Berdok,
That dwelt in sỹmer in till ane bowkaill stok;
And into winter, quhē þe frostis ar fell,
He dwelt for cauld in till a cokkil schell:
Kingis vsit not to weir clathis in tha dayis,
Bot geid naikit, as myne auctor sayis ;
5
10
1 Fol. 142 b.
2 P. 152.
3 The manuscript reads in 1. 2, 'sing,' and in 1. 5,
''kin.'
21
22
KING BERDOK
Weill cowd he play in clarschot and on lute,
And bend ane aiprin bow, and nipschot schute;
He wes ane stalwart mã of hairt and hand
;
He wowit the golk seven geir of Maryland,
Mayiola, and scho wes bot geiris thré,
Ane bony bird, and had bot ane é;
Neuirtheless king Berdok luvit hir weill,
For hir foirfute wes langar thā hir heill.
The king Berdok he fure our sé and land,
To reveiss Mayok the golk of Maryland,
And nane wt him bot ane bow and ane bowlt;
Syne hapnit him to cum amang þe nowlt,
And as this Berdok about him cowd espy
He saw Mayola milkand hir mvdere ky,
And in ane creill vpoun his bak hir kest:
Quhe he come hame it wes ane howlat nest,
Full of skait birde, and thã this Berdok grett,
And ran agane Meyola for to gett.
The king of Fary hir fadir than blew out,
And socht Berdok all the land abowt,
And Berdok fled in till a killogy;
Thair wes no grace bot gett him or elle die ;
Thair wes the kingis of Pechtis and Portingaill,
The king of Naippillis and Navern alhaill,
15
20
25
30
Wt bowis & brandis wt segis thay vmbeset
him,
35
Sum bad tak, sum slay, sum bad byd quhill thay
get him ;
Thay stellit gunis to the killogy laith,
And proppit gunnis wt bulettis of rawdaich :
Than Jupiter prayit to god Saturn,
In liknes of ane tod he wald him turn;
40
Bot sone pe graciouß god Mercurius
Turnit Berdok in till ane braikane bus;
And quhen thay saw the bus wag to ≈ fra,
Thay trowd it wes ane gaist, and thay to ga :
KING BERDOK
23
Thir fell kingis thus Berdok wald haif slane. 15
All this for lufe: luveris sufferis pane,
Boece said, of poyettis þt wes flour,
Thot lufe be sweit, oft syif it is full sour.
Explicit.
!

The Wowing of Jok and Jynny.
THE
"
HE "Wowing of Jok and Jynny" is the most ancient,
and not the least humorous, of many similar songs
and ballads which still retain their popularity in this country.
Lord Hailes observed—and his words are quite applicable at
the present time-that this well-known poem, by frequent
publication, has been much corrupted. Every publisher
took the liberty of adding or altering just as his fancy led
him.
It is now given faithfully from the manuscript,¹ and
exhibits a ludicrous picture of the curta supellex of the
Scottish commons in the sixteenth century." 2
Even since the time that Lord Hailes presented the text
in a genuine state, the interpolated copies have been gene-
rally adopted by its different editors. But the original poem
has too much merit, and possesses too close a resemblance
to the nature of the present collection, to justify its exclusion,
merely because it has been already published.
We possess no information with respect to the author,
unless it be worth observing that the signature “q Clerk,"
attached to this poem in the manuscript, has, at an early
period, been intentionally obliterated. The name, appar-
ently, is written in the same hand (not that of the transcriber)
which attributes "The Brash of Wowing," and two other
poems in the same collection, to a writer of this name,
supposed to have been Maister Johne Clerk, the poet
mentioned by Dunbar as having been taken by Death
'Fra balat making and trigidé.' 3
1 Bann. MS. fol. 137.
2 Ancient Scottish Poems, Edin. 1770, 12º, p. 292.
3 Lament for the deth of the Makars, Edin. 1508.
24
JOK AND JYNNY
25
C
The Wowing of Jok and Jynny."

R
JOBEYNS Jok come to wow our Jynny,
On our feist-evin when we were fow;
Scho brankit fast, and maid hir bony,
And said, Jok, come ge for to wow?
Scho birneist hir baith briest and brow,
And maid hir cleir as ony clok;
Than spake her dime, and said, I trow,
ge come to wow our Jynny, Jok.
Jok said, forsuth I gern full fane,
To luk my heid, and sit doun by gow.
Than spak hir modir, and said agane,
My bairne hes tocher-gud annwch.1
Te he! quoth Jynny, keik, keik! I se zow,
Muder, gone man makis gow a mok.
I schro the, lyar! full leis me gow,
I come to wow your Jynny, quoth Jok.
My berne, scho sayis, hes of hir awin,
Ane guss, ane gryce, ane cok, ane hen
Ane calf, ane hog, ane fute-braid sawin,
Ane kirk, ane pin, and ze weill ken,
Ane pig, ane pot, ane raip thair ben,
Ane fork, ane flaik, ane reill, ane rok,
Dischis and dublaris nyne or ten:
Come ge to wow our Jynny, Jok?
Ane blanket, and ane wecht also,
Ane schule, ane scheit, ane lang flail,2
Ane ark, ane almry, and laidillis two,
Ane milk-syth, with ane swine-taill,
6
10
15
20
25
1 'annwch' is inserted after 'tocher-gud,' but has been
scored through in the MS. by the transcriber, who has added
'to ge gow.'
2 Originally 'four lang flailis.'
25
THE WOWING OF
Ane rowsty quhittill to scheir the kaill,
Ane quheill, ane mell the beir to knok,
Ane coig, ane caird wantand ane naill;
Come je 'to wow our Jynny, Jok?'
Ane furme, ane furlet, ane pot, ane pek,
Ane tub, ane barrow, with ane quheilband,
Ane turs, ane troch, and ane meil-sek,
Ane spurtill braid, and ane elwand.
Jok tuk Jynny be the hand,
And cryd, Ane feist; and slew ane cok,
And maid a brydell vp alland;
30
35
Now haif I gottin gour Jynny, quoth Jok, 40
Now, deme, I haif your bairne mareit;
Suppoiss je mak it nevir sa twche,
I lat gow wit schoß nocht miskareit,
It is weill kend I haif annwch ;
Ane crukit gleyd fell our ane huch,
Ane spaid, ane speit, ane spur, ane sok,
Withouttin oxin I haif a pluche
To gang to gidder Jynny and Jok.
45
I haif ane helter, ane eik, ane hek,
Ane coird, ane creill, and als ane cradill,
50
Fyve fidder of raggis to stuff ane jak,
Ane auld pannell of ane laid sadill,
Ane pepper-polk maid of a padill,
Ane spounge, ane spindill wantand ane nok,
Twa lusty lippis to lik ane laiddill,
To gang to gidder Jynny and Jok.
Ane brechame, and twa brochis fyne
Weill buklit with a brydill renge,
Ane sark maid of the linkome twyne,
Ane gay grene cloke that will nocht stenge;
55
JOK AND JYNNY
27
And git for mister I will nocht fenge,
Fyive hundreth fleis now in a flok.
nocht that ane joly menge,
Call Je
To go to giddir, Jynny and Jok?
61
Ane trene truncheour, ane ramehorne spone, 65
Twa buttis of barkit blasnit ledder,
All graith that ganis to hobbill schone,
Ane thrawcruk to twyne ane tedder,
Ane brydill, ane girth, and ane sywne bledder,
Ane maskene-fatt, ane fetterit lok,
Ane scheip weill keipit fra ill wedder,
To gang to giddir, Jynny and Jok.
Tak thair for my parte of the feist;
It is weill knawin I am weill bodin;
ge may nocht say my parte is leist.
The wyfe said, Speid, the kaill ar soddin,
And als the laverok is fust and loddin ;
Quhen ze haif done tak hame the brok,
The rost wes twche, sa wer thay bodin;
Syne gaid to giddir bayth Jynny and Jok.
70
75
80
the
Explicit.

A Ballet shewing how a Dumb
Wyff was maid to speik.'
TH
HE Maitland MS. contains a fragment of the following
humorous tale, and a less imperfect copy occurs in
one of Bishop More's MSS. in the University Library, Cam-
bridge. The stanzas in the latter MS. having been awk-
wardly transposed by the writer, both copies are made use
of in order that this ballad might be given in its most per-
fect state. The only deficiency which we are left to regret
is that of the first four lines.
The incident on which this story is founded might be
traced back through a long series of writers of various
nations, both in prose and verse. The original of the pre-
sent tale may perhaps be found in one of the numerous
French fabliaux, which doubtless were well known at an
early period in Scotland, owing to the great intercourse
which subsisted between the two nations; but the earliest
form in which it appears in print is in one of the Hun-
dred Merry Tales," folio, 1526, or the undated edition, where
it is No. 60, and is entitled "Of the man that had the dome
wyfe." The idea is copied in the "Scholehouse of Women,"
1541, and by Rabelais, who substitutes a physician for the
Devil.
Part of a vulgar Scotish ballad of a similar kind, which
never seems to have been printed, is still remembered. The
husband takes his wife to a surgeon "to cure her of the
dumb, dumb, dumb," who, by cutting the strings of her
tongue, brings her faculties of speech to "a pretty tolerable
consistency; or rather, enables her "to rattle with her
tongue, tongue, tongue," at such a rate, that the poor man
is fain to apply a second time for assistance, and beg of the
28
THE DUMB WYFF
29
doctor to make her dumb again. Instead of pointing out
some remedy, or even answering him as we might suppose
him to do, like Sganarelle, in the admirable comedy of the
"Le Medecin malgré lui," on a similar application,
"That's impossible; Sir: all that I can do to serve you,
is, I can make you deaf, if you please,
"
he is so malicious as to say, like the Devil in the following
tale, that though it is an easy matter to make a woman
speak, it is beyond the skill of all the doctors in the land
afterwards to silence her.
The opening passage of the prose narrative cited above
may be given, to enable the reader to judge how the present
one probably commenced. "There was a man that maryed
a woman whiche hath [sic] grete ryches & bewte, how be it
she had suche an impedyment of nature that she was dome
and coude not speke, whiche thynge made hym full ofte
to be ryght pēsyfye & sad. . . .'
The Dumb Wpff.

UHAN wthair wyfes war glaid
To mak thair husbandis blyth,
Scho satt, and nothing said;
And comfort none culd kyth.
Than, to be brief, He tuik sic grieff,
That deiplie he did sweir,
Ane dum wyff hame for geir.
10
That he for thoucht, That he had brocht
And so wppone ane day,
He went alone to pance;
So mett he in his way
15
Ane grit grim man be chance :
30
THE DUMB WYFF
Quhilk fast at him did fraine
Quhy he sadlie went?
Quhat angwische, greiff, or paine,
Perturbit his intent
He bad him schaw, And latt him knaw
Off all his grieff the ground-
He sould remeid, Haue he na dreid,
Gif remeid micht be found.
Than he declairis cleir
The mater all and fum;
How he had tane for geir
Ane woman deiff and dum.
For hir riches and rentes
He weddit hir to his wyff;
Bot now he fair repentes,
And irkis sair of his lyff.
His earthlie joy Is tu:nit to noy;
He wist him selff war deid.
20
25
30
Quoth he agane, Tak no disdane,
And I sall find remeid,
35
Gif thow will counsell keip,
And learne weil quhat I say,
This nicht in hir first sleip
Vndir hir towng thow lay
Off quaiken aspein leiff,
The quhilk betaiknis wound;
And scho sall haif releiff
Of speiking thow sall find;
Quhat kind of taill, With outtin faill
That thow of hir requyreis,
Scho sall speik out, Haif thow na doutt,
And mair than thow desyreis.
40
45
THE DUMB WYFF
31
Than was he glaid of this,
And thocht him self weill chewin:
And hame he com with bliss;
Thocht lang quhill it was ewin.
Quhill scho was fallin on sleip
Ay warrlie watchit he;
And than he tuik guid keip,
60
99
66
And laid in leifes thrie ;
Thinkand his cuir To wirk moist suir.
He lay waikand quhill day;
Quhill scho awoik Guid tent he tuik,
To heir quhat scho suld say.
CO
65
Na rest than cauld he tak
Bot tumbillis heir and thair :
The first word that scho spak,
Scho said, Ill mot ge fair!
That wald nocht latt me rest,
And I lay seik this nycht !—
-For joy he hir imbraift,
His hairt was hie on hicht.
Than furth scho schew, All that scho knew,
Quhen that scho could nocht speik.
Fra scho began, Scho spairit nocht than,
And litill till ane seik.
And quhan I did hir pray
In silence for to sitt,
That is the neirest way
To putt hir by hir witt:
God knawis the drerie lyff
I had sen scho was dum;
Off ane gud quyet wyff
Is now ane fiend becum;¹
'begun,' MS,
70
75
80
32
THE DUMB WYFF
Hir speiche but sessioun, But ryme or ressoun,
Now deiffis vp all the hous;
Allace! this day, That, I may say,
That euer scho spak sa crous.
Blame thy selff, quod he,
That gaif hir superflew ;
Thow laid in leifis thrie,
85
Quhair ane mycht bene enew
Had thow don as I bad,
Or now thow sould haue seine,
90
1
Weill temperet toung betwene;
Bot quha may latt 2 Ane wyfe to clatter,
Syne no man can conuert hir;
The mimest wyff That euer tuik lyff,
95
Will warie sum wordis, and start hir.
Quod he, tak quhat I haiff,
And leif hir as ze fand hir.
Allace! quod he, ge raiff,
I dar nocht cum neir hand hir;
I am [a] Devill but doutt;
First langage learnit hir till,
I dar nocht be so stoutt,
To bid hir hald hir still;
Fra scho delyte To fecht and flytt,
I dar nocht with hir mell;
Scho will speik out, Haue je na doutt,
Off all the deuillis in hell.
The leist deuill that is in hell
Can gif ane wyff hir toung;
The gritest, I gow tell,
Cannot do mak hir dum.
1 1, 91 omitted in MS.
2' latter,' MS.
100
105
110
THE DUMB WYFF
33
Fra scho begin to clatter,
Scho will claver quhair scho pleis
We deuillis can na wayis latt hir;
Giue man tak gow the waneis:
116
Thocht nighbouris aboutt wis hir toung outt,
It dois thame nocht availl,
I say for me Scho will chyde till¹ scho die,
Scho is best with littill daill.
Quod he, than tell me plane,
Quhat counsall best ge call?—
Quod he, gang hame agane,
For it is ill over all:
Latt thy wyff speik hir fill,
Sen scho thairto was borne ;
For wyffis will haue thair will
Thocht Je and I had sworne.
120
125
Quhat euer hir happin, Hir toung is hir wapin,
To speik than quha may latt hir,
Quha may ganestand Or contramand
Ane crabit wyff to clatter?
Thus thai depairtit plane:
The feind flew ouir ane hill;
The guidman hame agane,
And with his wyff baid still :
Quod he, now I perseaue
Thair is na leid in land
That has, as I wald haiff,
His wyff at his command.
Fra thine furth ay, He leit hir say,
And neuer was offendit,
But at hir wourdis Maid quyet bourdis,'
Quhill daith thair dayis endit.
Finis hujus.
130
135
140
1' will,' MS.
VOL. II.
C

ΤΗ
The Murning Maidin.
"}
HE first verse of this beautiful. poem, "Still under the
leyvis grene," is cited in the "Complaynt of Scotland
(1549), and was first printed from Sir R. Maitland's MS. by
Mr. Pinkerton. He speaks of it "as a capital piece, being
a kind of rival of the Ephesian Matron, narrated with
exquisite simplicity and beauty;" and elsewhere he says
that "this piece, for the age [in which] it was written, is
almost miraculous. The tender pathos is finely recom-
mended by an excellent cadence. An age that produced
this might produce almost any perfection in poetry." It
was indeed written in the Augustan age of Scotish Poetry;
and after such a high encomium, there needs no apology for
its re-publication. Dr. Irving is equally enthusiastic in its
praise. 1
There are several other poems still extant of a similar
kind, but for various reasons are less fit for publication.
From one of these, which was lately discovered in a muti-
lated state (with various other fragments in verse and prose,
pasted together in the boards of an old book of little value),
a few stanzas may be here introduced. Some portions of
this Lament are very pathetick, but unfortunately, from
parts of the lines being cut away, it is not easy to guess at
the exact words to supply all the deficiencies; although
much has been done for it by a gentleman to whom the
Editor has already made his acknowledgments.
The
1 History of Scotish Poetry, 1861, p. 207. He adds:
"The plan of the poem is, however, superior to its execu-
tion."
34
THE MURNING MAIDIN
35
orthography of the original fragment being very uncouth,
is, in part, corrected :—
'Fareweill, fare' weill, my yellow hair,
'That curlit cleir' into my neck!
'Allace!' that ever it grew sae fair,
'Or yet in' to ane snood was knet.
'Qu' har I was wont to dance and sing;
'A' mang my marrows mak repair-
Now am I put furth of the ring,
For fadit is my yellow hair.
My kirtill wes of lincu'm green,'
Weill lacit with silk'en passments rair;
God gif I had never pridefull 'been,'
J
For fadit is my yellow hair.
God gif my hair had been als bʻlak'
As ever wes my hart full of cair,
It wald not put me to sic lak,
For fadit is my yellow hair.
Quhen I was young I had great sta'it,'
Weill cherishit baith with less and maʻir,'
For shame now steill I off the gait,
For fadit is my yellow hair.
I wes our wanton of intent
Of wardlie joys I tuke my share;
But sin hes nocht but sorrow sent,'
And fadit is my yellow hair.
God gif the dait of luf were gane,
That I micht die, and luf na mair!
To Jesu Christ I mak my mane,
And fadit is my yellow hair.
Sen all this folly is by-went,
Out of this warld I maun repair;
I pray to God Omnipotent,
To tak me, sinner, full of cair !
Finis. Amen.
36
THE MURNING MAIDIN
"
The admiration of yellow hair was not peculiar to the old
Scotish poets, one of whom compares the tresses of their
ladies "to the wire of gold that has been fined. According
to the ingenious author of the Anatomy of Melancholy,"
a flexen haire, golden haire was ever in great account;
and after naming those in ancient times ("gods and god-
desses," as well as heroes) whom the poets have commended
for their "yellow hair," he adds, "Which belike makes
our Venetian ladies at this day to counterfeit yellow hair so
much, great women to calamistrate and curle it up, to adorne
their heads with spangles, pearles, and made flowres, and
all courtiers to affect a pleasing grace in this kinde."2 In
reference to this custom of the Venetian ladies, a quaint
English writer exclaims :-"What a curious accommoda-
tion to those people had some fountain been that had a
harmelesse property to colour their haire according to their
mindes, such a one as the River Crathis, mentioned by
Plinie, whose nature was to make Haire yellow, which
efficacy Ovid attributes to another."
40
4
3
Crathis, et hinc Sybaris nostris conterminus oris,
Electro similes faciunt Auróque Capillos."
Among the other fragments were two or three love poems
in the style of Alexander Scott, or of his contemporary,
Montgomery. The one least mutilated is here inserted; the
words within the inverted commas being supplied, as in the
former instance, by Charles Sharpe, Esq.
1 Jeremy Taylor takes notice that "Menander in the
Comedy brings in a man turning his wife from his house
because she stain'd her hair yellow, which was then the
beauty."-Sermons, 1653, p. 242. But the words imply that
this practice was not adopted by any modest woman.
Νῦν δ᾽ ἔρπ᾽ ἀπ' οἴκων τῶνδε. τὴν γυναῖκα γὰρ
Τὴν σωφρον᾽ οὐ δεῖ τας τριχας ξανθὰς ποιεῖν.
Menandri Fragmenta 199, edit. 1709, p. 295.
2 Burton's Anat. of Melanch., edit. 1632, fol. p. 469.
See Coryate's Crudities, &c., 1611, fol. 260-1.
Italy, &c.
Bulwer's Artificiall Changeling, 1652, 4to, p. 65.
Lassel's
THE MURNING MAIDIN
37
"
'QUHEN we to Ladies lufe inclyne,
Our guerdon still growis less and less,"
Bot quha sould press to suffer pyne,
Or for thair plessour thoil distres?
Sen thai regard to treuth hes none;
Nor yit reward for lufe allone,
Bot pane expres !
Bot pane expres! I sé rycht nocht;
The moir I serve the less sett by!
The moir I luff the les in thocht!
The moir I weip the war am I !
My hart is sett, but variance
Quhair I can get no recompans,
This is the quhy!
This is the quhy! I plaingie foir
My Lady, on your excellence ;
Ye sould support my panis soir,
'That' woundis me, without offence;
Quhen' every day I am bot deid,
'Allace! nor can I find remeid'
'Bot patience.'
But patience! remeid is none,
This langsum liff I leid, allace !
Subject I am to you allone,
As bond and thral to byid your grace
This gret annoye quha may resist?
Cupide convoy me as thow list,-
Hard is my case.
Hard is my case! without confort,
Bot gif ye help, my Lady free,
Quha sould me succour, or support,
Quha sould me saiff, or yit supplee,
But ye sueit hart and soverane?
Thairfor reward my liff agane,
Yit or I dee!
+
38
THE MURNING MAIDIN
1
The Burning Maidin.
I.

TILL undir the levis grene,
This hindir day, I went alone;
I hard ane May sair mwrne and meyne,
To the King of Luif scho maid hir
mone.
Scho sychit sely soir;
Said, "Lord, I luif thi lore;
Mair wo dreit nevir woman one!
O langsum lyfe, and thow war gone,
Than suld I mwrne no moir!"
II.
10
5
As rid gold-wyir schynit hir hair;
And all in grene the May scho glaid.
10
Ane bent bow in hir hand scho bair;
Undir hir belt war arrowis braid,
I followit on that fre,
That semelie wes to se:
With still mwrning hir mone scho maid.
That bird undir a bank scho baid,
And lenit to ane tre.
III.
15
Wanweird," scho said, "Quhat have I wroch,
That on me kytht hes all this cair?
Trew luif so deir I have thé bocht!
Certis so sall I do na mair:
Sen that I go begyld
With ane that faythe has syld:
That gars me oftsyis sich full sair;
And walk amang the holtis hair
Within the woddis wyld.
20
25
THE MURNING MAIDIN
39
IV.
"This grit disese for luif I dre—
Thair is no toung can tell the wo !—
I lufe the luif, that lufes not me;
I may not mend-but murning mo.
Quhill God send sum remeid,
Throw destany, or deid:
I am his freind—and he my fo.
My sueit, alace! quhy dois he so?
I wrocht him nevir na feid!
V.
"Withoutin feyn I wes his freynd,
In word and wark, grit God it wait!
Quhair he wes placit, thair list I leynd,
Doand him service ayr and late.
He kepand eftir syne
Till his honour and myne :
Bot now he gais ane uther gait;
And hes no é to my estait;
Quhilk dois me all this pyne.
VI.
"It dois me pyne that I may prufe,
That makis me thus murning mo:
My luif he lufes ane uther lufe-
Alas, sweithart! Quhy does he so?
Quhy sould he me forsaik?
Have mercie on his maik !-
Thairfoir my hart will birst in two.
And thus, walking with da and ro,
My leif now heir I taik.”
30
35
10
45
30
40
THE MURNING MAIDIN
VII.
Than wepit scho, lustie in weyd,
And on hir wayis can scho went.
In hy eftir that heynd I geyd,
And in my armis culd hir hent;
And said, “Fayr lady, at this tyde,
With leif ye man abyde;
And tell me quho yow hidder sent?
Or quhy ye beir your bow so bent
To sla our deir of pryde?
55
60
VIII.
"In waithman weid sen I yow find
In this wod, walkand you alone,
Your mylk-quhyte handis we sall bind
Quhill that the blude birst fra the bone.
Chairgeand yow to preisoun,
To the king's deip dungeoun.
Thai may ken be your fedderit flane
Ye have bene mony beistis bane,
Upon thir bentis broun."
05
20
70
IX.
That fré answerd with fayr afeir,
And said, "Schir, mercie for your mycht!
Thus man I bow and arrowis beir,
Becaus I am ane baneist wycht:
So will I be full lang.
For God's luif lat me gang;
And heir to yow my treuth I plycht,
That I sall, nowdir day nor nycht,
No wyld beist wait with wrang!
75
80
THE MURNING MAIDIN
41
X.
"Thoch I walk in this forest fré,
With bow and eik with fedderit flane,
It is weill mair than dayis thre,
And meit or drink yit saw I nane.
Thoch I had nevir sic neid
My selfe to wyn my breid,
Your deir may walk, schir, thair alane.
Yit wes I nevir na beistis bane.
I may not sé thame bleid.
XI.
"Sen that I nevir did yow ill,
It wer no skill ye did me skayth.
Your deir may walk quhairevir thai will:
I wyn my meit with na sic waithe.
I do bot litil wrang,
Bot gif I flouris fang.
Gif that ye trow not in my aythe,
Tak heir my bow and arrowis baythe
And lat my awin selfe gang."
XII.
"I say your bow and arrowis bricht!
I bid not have thame, be Sanct Bryd.
Bot ye man rest with me all nycht,
All nakit sleipand be my syd."
"I will not do that syn!
Leif yow this warld to wyn !
"Ye ar so haill of hew and hyd,
Luif hes me fangit in this tyd:
I may not fra yow twyn."
85
90
05
100
105
42
THE MURNING MAIDIN
XIII.
Than lukit scho to me, and leuch ;
And said, "Sic luf I rid yow layne;
Albeid ye makit nevir sa teuch,
To me your labour is in vane :
Wer I out of your sycht,
The space of halfe a nycht,
Suppois ye saw me nevir agane—
Luif hes yow streinyeit with little paine
Thairto my treuth I plycht."
XIV.
I said, "My sueit, forsuythe I sall
For ever luif yow, and no mo;
110
115
Thoch uthers luif, and leif, with all:
120
Maist certanlie I do not so.
I do yow trew luif hecht,
Be all thi bewis bricht!
Ye ar so fair, be not my fo!
Ye sall have syn and ye me slo
Thus throw ane suddan sycht."
XV.
"That I yow sla, that God forscheild !
Quhat have I done or said yow till?
I wes not wont wapyns to weild;
Bot am ane woman-gif ye will,
That suirlie feiris yow,
And ye not me, I trow.
Thairfoir, gude schir, tak in none ill :
Sall never berne gar breif the bill
At bidding me to bow.
125
130
135
THE MURNING MAIDIN
43
XVI.
"Into this wode ay walk I sall,
Ledand my lyf as woful wycht ;—
Heir I forsaik bayth bour and hall,
And all thir bygings that are brycht !
My bed is maid full cauld,
With beistis bryme and bauld.
That gars me say, bayth day and nycht,
Alace that ever the toung sould hecht
That hart thocht not to hauld!"
XVII.
Thir words out throw my hart so went
That neir I wepit for hir wo,
But thairto wald I not consent;
140
145
And said that it sould not be so;
Into my armis swythe
Embrasit I that blythe.
Sayand, "Sweit hart, of harmis ho!
Found sall I never this forest fro,
Quhill ye me comfort kyth.
XVIII.
150
Than knelit I befoir that cleir;
And meiklie could hir mercie craif;
155
That semelie than, with sobir cheir,
Me of hir gudlines forgaif.
It wes no neid, I
I wys,
To bid us uther kys;
Thair mycht no hairts mair joy resaif,
Nor ather culd of uther haif :
160
Thus brocht wer we to blys.
Finis.
לי

THE
Welcum to May.
HE finest poetical descriptions of external nature not
unusually are found referable to the month of May—
"fair May" (in the words of the gentle Spenser ¹)—
who comes
"
'the fairest maid on ground,
"Deckt all with dainties of her Season's pride,
And throwing flow'rs out of her lap around.'
The present poem, which has something of a lyrical char-
acter, is a pleasing specimen, to show how attentive our
ancient poetical writers were in celebrating the praises
"Of lusty May, that mudder is of flouris."
It is given from Bannatyne's Manuscript,2 which likewise
contains the earliest copy of the well-known song "O lusty
Maye, of Flora Quene," mentioned in the Complaynt of
Scotland," and supposed to have been written by Alexander
Scott.
It is rather singular that in the following poem no allu-
sions should be found to the games and pastimes peculiar
"to the mery moneth of May
Whan loue lads masken in fresh aray."
This circumstance might warrant us in fixing the date of
its composition between the year 1555, when all such
recreations were forbidden by an Act of Parliament ³ (which
8
2 MS. fol. 229b.
1 Faerie Quene, B. vii., vii. 34.
3 Acts of Parl. vol. ii. p. 500.
44
WELCUM TO MAY
45
enjoined, that "gif ony wemen or vthers about simmer treis
singand makis perturbatioun to the Quenis liegis in the
passage throw Burrowis and vtheris landwart townis the
wemen perturbatouris for skafrie of money or vtherwise
salbe takin handellit and put vpone the Cukstulis of euerie
Burgh or towne,")-and the year 1568, when the manu-
script from which the poem is given was compiled.
• Welcum to May.'

E glaid all ge that luvaris bene,
For now hes May depaynt with grene
The hillis, valis, and the medis
And flouris lustely vpspreidis.
Awalk out of your sluggairdy,
To heir the birdis melody;
Quhois suggourit nottis loud & cleir
Is now ane parradice to heir.
Go walk vpoun sum rever fair
Go tak the fresch and holsum air;
Go luke vpoun the flurist fell;
Go feill the herbis plesand smell;
Quhilk will your comfort gar incres,
And all avoyd gour havines.
The new cled purpo¹ hevin espy,
Behald the lark now in the sky,
With besy wyng scho clymis on hicht,
For grit joy of the dayis licht.
Behald the verdor fresch of hew,
Powdderit with grene, quhyt, and blew,
Quhairwith dame Flora, in this May,
Dois richely all the field array;
And how Aurora, with visage pale,
Inbalmes with hir cristal hale,
The grene and tendir pylis ging,
Of every gress that dois vpspryng;
5
ເດ
10
15
20
20
46
WELCUM TO MAY
And with hir beriall droppis bricht,
Makis the gresys gleme of licht.
Luke on the ausir firmament,
And on the anammellit orient;
Luke or Phebus put vp his heid,
As he dois raiss his baneris reid,
He dois the eist so bricht attyre,
That all semis birnyng in a fyre;
Quhilk comfort dois to every thing,
Man, bird, beist, and flurissing.
Quhairfoir luvaris be glaid and lycht,
For schort [it] is your havy nycht,
And lenthit is your myrry day,
Thairfoir ge velcum now this May:
And birdis do gour haill plesance
With mirry song and observance,
This May to velcum at your mycht,
At fresch Phebus vprysing bricht:
And all the flouris that dois spreid,
Lay furt gour levis vpoun breid,
And welcum May with benyng cheir,
The quene of euery moneth cleir.
And euery man thank in his mynd
The God of natur and of kynd,
Quhilk ordanit all for our behufe,
The erd vndir, the air abufe,
Bird, beist, flour, tyme, day and nycht,
The planeitis haill to gif ws licht.
30
36
40
46
50
Finis.
i

The Wyf of Auchtermuchty.
ΤΗ
"
HE "Wyf of Auchtermuchty" has long continued to be
a favourite among all classes of the people of Scotland;
and few poems of the same nature have oftener been printed,
though seldom, it must be added, with a due regard to accu-
racy. Having been preserved by tradition, as well as by
writing, there is no cause for surprise at finding the different
copies vary considerably from each other. Of these, the one
contained in Bannatyne's manuscript "Ballat Buik," is the
most ancient. Lord Hailes indeed was inclined to think
that it had been transcribed at some later period than
1568, when most of the MS. was written." But there is no
reason for entertaining such an opinion, since it occurs in
the middle of the volume, and, as appears from the original
series of paging, could not possibly have been inserted at a
later period than the rest of the collection. From this copy
the text is carefully given, and the most important variations
of other editions are pointed out at the foot of the page.
The only one, however, which requires particular notice is
written in a hand not much later than the year 1600, and is
distinguished as MS. a.
For genuine humour, and as a faithful picture of rustic
manners, "The Wyf of Auchtermuchty" has seldom or
ever been equalled. Ritson, who republished it in his "Cale-
donian Muse," 1821, says, in a note, The subject of this
poem seems to be borrowed from the first part of a story in
the 'Silva Sermonum jucundissimorum,' 1568," of which the
scene is laid at some village near Widdersdorf, in Prussia.
It has been very popular (he adds), and given rise to several
imitations. The story referred to is quoted at full length
47
48
THE WYF OF
below 1 (the volume from which it is taken being of rare
occurrence), so that the reader may be enabled to draw his
own conclusion respecting its originality. There is indeed
1 Conueniunt uir et uxor, ut quisque eorum exerceret
officium alterius, quo posset alter eorum in posterum
exercere utrumque.
Rvsticus quidam non potuit conuenire cũ sua coniuge,
sed semper improbabant sibi mutuo officia sua. Vno dieru
Laurentius (sic enim uocabatur ille, & illa Adelheidis) cogi-
tabat penes se, quid agendum esset, quo possent tot inimi-
citiæ, rixæ ac tumultus sedari inter eos: dicit uxori, in
posterum se oportere agere partes suas, ipse uero uxoris
acturus est. Oportere eam arare, triturare, serere, ac similia
opera uirilia facere: ipse domi uellet exercere quæ muliebria
sunt utpote curare prolem, nutrire ac prouidere gallinis,
anseribus, anatibus, porcis, pullo equino, coquere & uerrere
pauimentu, &c. per qd. quisq; posset alterius munus ac
officiu scire. Arrisit consiliu mulieri, quæ alioqui cupiētes
sunt freni ac dominij. Accessit stabulu, parat equos ac
aratrum, adit campu, iubet marito (qui iam uxor erat) mittat
sibi prandiu in campu, curet prolem, & uideat ne excidat ex
cunis, aut inuertatur cunæ, ac coquat diligēter. Curabo
omnia diligiter, ait uir, simulq; satagit in domo, cãtillat
argute, ut uideatur mulier in domo esse satagendo inuerit
magnā ollam lactis, quo butyrum debuit cōtudisse & coxisse
pultem pro puero. Hæc erant primordia eius oeconomiæ,
quibus tantum horruit, meminitq; eius quod dixerat domi-
nus curam gereret pueri ac cunarum, ne inuertantur, quare
capit magnū ac latum lapidem, superponit puero atq; ita
sistit cunas. Subit etiam Laurentio se debere coquere, iam
instabat tēpus prādij, quare capit duodenam ouorum, dif-
fringit ea in sartagine cum butyro, ad coquendum aut frix-
endum: abit interim in penum, ad promendū uinum, &
ibide meminit ouorum, recurrit cito superius, detinens spinam
epistomij in manu. Quū uenit in coquinam, decidit coctura
in ignem, cui assidet felis ac deuorat oua. Meminit & prolis,
uisit num dormiat, & amoto lapide, reperit eam mortuam.
Bone Deus! quam tristatur, ac cogitat quid incœptet? con-
cutit ac costringit manus: quod faciedo, excidit ex eius
manibus spina epistomij, quam oblitus erat in manu; quare
AUCHTER MUCHTY
49
a striking similarity in many of the incidents; but the
poem has too much of a natural character and propriety
to make us think of depriving the old Scotish author of the
merit of its invention.
currit actutu in penum, & reperit uinum penitus effluxum
esse. Volens rapide amouere poculum, in quo prompserat
uinum, collidens illud uasi, excidit ex manibus eius, atq; ita
uniuersum uinū perditu est. Quis bono hoc Laurentio magis
perplexus? uoluit subinde apud se: Tu uis esse hera, &
effudisti lac, no potes iam contudere butyrum, proles ex-
tincta est, oua ac butyrum arserut, ac comesta sunt à felibus,
uinum natat in penu, poculū uini effusum est. Quid fiet cum
redierit uir famelicus & sitibūdus, uideritq; hanc bellam
œconomiam? Ex quo ego me interposui rebus domesticis,
& illa uirilibus, ob hoc baculo mea latera cōtunderet, & me
oneraret ictibus, mihi acquum fieret, ita uolui, cur non
mansi uir? Interim cogitat bonus Laurentius quomodo
agat. Venit illi in mente equulus oblitus in stabulo, capit
seculam, & exit. Veniens secundum uiuarium, uidet lupum
in margine, lætatur, proijcit seculam post lupum, putans se
nacturum eundem, natando aufugit ille, & falcula manet in
limo. Exuit se Laurentius, & intrat aquam, quærit seculā,
uerrens diu in limo: interim uenit quidã qui furatus est eius
uestes. Post diutina quæsitione in uanum, erigit se, &
quærens indusium in ripa, uidet uniuersas uestes ablatas.
Exit aquas nudus, & digitis uellit tot herbas, ut fasciculū
collegerit simul uelles pugillú graminis, quo contegat ea,
quæ natura tegenda suadet. Deinde currit celeriter domum,
retro per hortu (ne quis eum posset ita animaduertere nudū)
ad stabulu, uolens equulo dare gramē seu herbas. Ille ualde
esuriens inuadit herbas ac gramina, simul & quod natura
tegendum suadet, & amordet omnia simul. Quis posset esse
in maiori anxietate, qua hic pauper Laurentius? Nesciuit
introitum nec exitu, nec quò posset confugere, nisi in furno,
ubi se retro locat, expectans misericordiam. Interim uenit
uxor, uel tunc temporis arator ex agro, putans coniugem
bene obijsse sua munia. Videns autè quid actum esset de
puero, in penu, coquina ac lacte, attonita erat, & uocat
circumquaque, Lentzo, Lentzo. Is absconditus in furno
nolebat primo respondere, timebat enim sibi. Post paulu-
lum uocat iterum, Lentzo. Respondet ille in furno: Heho.
VOL. II.
D
50
THE WYF OF
Allan Ramsay, who, so far as we learn, was its earliest
publisher, has, as Lord Hailes observed, altered six lines,
and added no fewer than twenty. "It must be admitted
Vocat iterum arator; Vbi es? Respondet Laurentius: Hic
in furno. Quid agis ibi, procede. Nequaquam, here, ait
alter, malè exercui rem domesticam. Quid actum est, ait
illa? Prolem ego necaui, uolens sistere cunas. Eia bone
Laurenti, nil refert (inquit illa) nos satagemus alias proles
progignere, exi saltem ex furno, nihil fiet tibi. Sed plus
feci, bone here. Quid fecisti præterea? Laurentius dixit:
Vinum siui effluere ex uase in penu, & poculum uini effudi
etiam. Nil nocet, mi Laurenti (inquit illa): exi, bibemus
aquam. Sed plura feci, ô here. Quid sit, rogat illa? Dis-
persi butyrum & oua, & feles comederunt illa. Non adeo
magnum est hoc damnum, prodi satiabimur pane ac caseo.
Plus adhuc perpetraui. Quid est illud rogat illa? Volebam
præbere equulo nostro gramen, & seculam amisi in limo
uiuarij: interim quod quæro eam, ablatæ sunt mihi uestes.
Nil refert nec hoc, gramen demetemus cultro, & uestes alias
curabimus resarciri Widersdorfij, prodi saltem. Sed aliud
adhuc perpatraui quod omnium est maximum & pessimum.
Quærit illa: Quidnam est hoc mali? Volui ait inijcere gra-
men nostro equulo, ille importunus ac famelicus, ex quo
eram nudus uolens rapere gramen, quo supellectilem meā
conabar tegere, abmordit unà cum gramine meu compositorē
discordiaru, uentre tenus, Hæc est causa cur non audeo
prodire. Audiēs hoc Adelheidis, capit ilico furcam fur-
nariam, ac ait: Videbatur mihi aliud in hoc negocio quàm
oua, lac, uinum, uestes & proles. Vis tu curare rem domes-
ticam, & destruere omnia, perdere ac deuastare: quin & sinis
auferri tibi (quod omniū maximū est) nostrum compositorem
discordiarū? Siste, pro tua hac œconomia te remunerabo.
Cōtrudit eum furca furnaria ita, ut necessariò cōfregerit furnū
supernè, & effugeret nudus in domu: & ita nudus aç san-
gulinolentus exiliuit per fenestrā. Illa insequitur furca illa
furnaria, clamat ille, imprecatur illa. Vicina audiēs hunc
tumultu, miratur, prospicit, uidet uicinum suum Laurentium
currentem, uxorem insequentem, ac malè se habentem.
Mota autem uicinali misericordia, dixit: Eia commater
Adelheidis, quid ita cōmota es erga compatrem Laur-
entium, qui semper bonus ac probus extitit? desine parum-
AUCHTER MUCHTY
51
(Lord Hailes adds) that his alterations and additions are in
the style of the original. They prove him to have been a
better poet than a publisher of other men's works." After
such an encomium by one every way so well qualified to
estimate their merit, it would have been improper to have
withheld these additions.
1
Respecting the author of this poem, it may be observed
that in Bannatyne's manuscript ¹ "q MOFAT" is subjoined,
in a different, if not in a more modern hand. Accordingly
it has been attributed to a Sir John Moffat ("one of the
Pope's knights"), the only Scotish poet of the name, who is
conjectured to have lived in the earlier part of the 16th
century. All we know concerning him is, that he was
author of the fine moral poem beginning
"
Bruthir be wyiẞs I reid gow now,"
"The
that has been printed in Lord Hailes's collection.
Wyf of Auchtermuchty" may therefore be supposed to have
per ab ira hac, & da ei saltem indusium. Ego dedero illi
fel potius (ait illa) omnia deuastauit in domo, prolem op-
pressit magno lapide. Omnia condonanda forent, sed unum.
& præcipuum designauit, quod celandum esset; à nostro
equulo in stabulo, siuit amorderi præcipuam supellectilem
nostram, uentre tenus. Cætera condonanda forent, sed hoc
unum nullo modo potest expiari nec condonari. Audiens
hoc uicina, quòd deprædatus esset eo, quod præcipuè ex-
petitur, fit and ipsa infesta suo compatri, ac cōnitat canicu-
lum que habuit complosis manib. in eum, dicens: Hurss,
hurss, cape eum, ad nihil enim utilis est. Miser hic Lauren-
tius penitus abdicatur, nullus restat ei locus ulterius, sed
aufugit nudus quaqua uersum. Vicina aut dixit: Age
cōmater Adelheidis, copone mentē tua, habeo ego seruū
bonū, fortē ac uigilē, qui erit in rem tua. scio enim ualere :
nam ego sum usa eo his sex aut septem annis.
Hoc pacto
perdidit Laurentius optimu suū pugionē, & cogebatur deleri
omnino ex libro uiuentiu. Suadeo ergo uiris obire sua munia,
mulierib. similiter sua: sic poterit neuter imprope rare alteri.
Ita fiet, ut uiro maneat sua uigil ales salua ac uegeta, & uxor
reddetur pacatior, nec cogatur diffringere furnu, & tandem
aufugere nudus & mutilatus.
1 Fol. 120 b.
52
THE WYF OF
been written about the year 1520. Should the solitary evi-
dence, just referred to, respecting its author, be relied on,
there is but too much cause to justify our regret in not
possessing more considerable remains of a poet whose claims
to original genius, it is presumed, will not be disputed.
The Wyf of Awchtirmwchty.

2
IN Awchtirmwchty thair dwelt ane man,¹
An husband, as I hard it tawld
Quha weill cowld tippill owt a can,³
And 4 naipir luvit hungir nor cawld
Quhill anis it fell vpoun a day,
He gokkit his plwch vpoun the plane;
Gif it be trew, as I hard say,
The day was fowll 5 for wind and rane.
He lowsit the pluche at the landis end,
And draif his oxin hame at e'in ;
Quhen he come in he lukit bend,
And saw the wyf baith dry and clene,
And sittand at ane fyre, beik and bawld,
Wt ane fat sowp, as I hard say:
The man being verry weit and cawld,
Betwene thay twa it was na play."
1
5
10
16
1 thair wind an honest man.
2 'a rach husband.'
3 'Sa weill can tipple vpon a good can.'
4 'this man.'
5 'It came on a foull day.'
6 L. 9-16. This stanza in MS. A. has only four lines:
He loosed the pleuch hame as he came,
He saw the goodwife sitting baith fair and clene,
Sitting before a good beikman bald,
A good fat sowp his handę betuene.'
AUCHTER MUCHTY
53
Quoth he,¹ quhair is my horsis corne?
My ox 2 hes naiþir hay nor stray;
Dame, ge mon to the pluch to morne,³
I salbe hussy, gif I may.4
Husband,5 quoth scho, content am I
To tak pe pluche 6 by day about,
Sa ge will rewll baith knavisky,
And all the houß7 baith in and owt.
But sen that ge will husyskep ken,8
First ge sall sift,
syne sall kned ;
And ay as ge gang but
ben,
Luk that the bairnis dryt not the bed.9
geis lay ane soft wisp to pe kill,
We haif ane deir ferme on or heid;
And ay as ge gang furth and in,
Keip weill the gaislingis fra the gled.10
The wyf was vp richt late at e'in,
I pray God gif hir evill to fair,
3
20
25
30
Scho kyrnd the kyrne, and skwmd it clene, 35
And left the gudemā bot the bledoch bair ;
1 'Quhot.' MS. Bannat.
2 'My cattell.'
3 Ye shall go to the pluch the morne.'
4 'I gyde the hous als well as I may.'
5
Goodman.'
6 To gang to the pleuch.'
7 'Gyde my hous well.'
8
A gude husband if ye will be.'
9
Misvse not the bed.'
10 L. 29-31, 'And a good husband as ye wold be,
Some spott in the hous ye man outspy;
We have a deare ken [q. kane] to the ladie,
See that the calfes swk not the ky.'
54
THE WYF OF
Than in the mornyng vp scho gatt
And on hir hairt laid hir disjwne.
Scho put als mekle in hir lap,
As micht haif serd them baith at nwne.1 40
Sayis, Jok, will thow be maister of wark,2
And thow sall had, and I sall kall :
I promiß thé ane gude new sark,
Athir of round claith or of small,
Scho lowsit oxin aucht or nyne,
And hynt ane gad-staff in hir hand;
And the gudman raiss efter syne,
And saw the wyf had done cōmand.
And cawd the gaislingis fwrth to feid,
Thair wes bot sevensum of thame all;
And by thair cumis the gredy gled,
And likkit vp five, leſt him bot twa :
Then owt he ran in all his mane,3
How svne he 4 hard the gaislingis cry;
Bot than or he come in agane, 5
The calfis brak lowss and sowkit the ky.
The calvis and ky being met in the lone,
The man ran wt ane rung to red;
Than by thair cuis ane ill-willy cow,
And brodit his buttok quhill þat it bled."
1 L. 37-40. These lines in MS. A. read thus:
"The goodwife gat up soone in the morning,
Vpon hir heart laid a fine disjune,
Scho preind mair to Jock in hir lap
45
GO
66
00
Nor wold have scrued three honest men at noone.'
2 This address to Jock, the servant, is not in MS. A.; nor
indeed are several other lines.
'The gudman ran forth in a great anger.'
4 'Soon as ever he.'
• L. 59, 60. 'Ere he came in what thought ye of yt.'
• ‘And wold he haue jumblit while the dumsday,
Sorrow a bit butter þat ever he gat.'
AUCHTER MUCHTY
55
Than hame he ran to an rok of tow,1
Ane he satt doun to say the spỹning;
I trow he lowtit our neir the low,
Quoth he, this wark hes ill begyning.
Than to be kyrn that he did stoure,
65
And jwmlit at it quhill he swatt :
Quhen he had jwmlit a full lang houre,
The sorrow crap of butter he gatt.
Albeit na butter he cowld gett,
git he wes cūmerit wt the kyrne,
And syne he het the milk o" hett,
And sorrow a spark of it wald gyrne.
Than ben thair come 2 ane gredy sow,
I trow he cund hir littil thank ;
For in scho schot hir mekle mow,3
And ay scho winkit and scho drank.
He cleikit vp ane crukit club,
And thocht to hitt the sow ane rowt,
The twa gaislingis the gled 4 had left,
That straik dang 5 baith thair harnis out.
6
He gat his foot vpon the spyre,
To haue gotten the flesch doune to the pat,
He fell backward into the fyre,
And brack his head on the keming stack :
1 L. 61. 'He gat the rock soone in his bosome,
70
75
He thought well to have begun his spinning;
But alace he leand our neir the low;
80
Alace! (quo) this work hes a hard beginning.'
2. And in there came.'
8 Hir ill fard mow.'
4 The glaide had chaped.'
'He chanced to ding.'
• L. 81-88. This stanza, which does not occur in MS. Bann.,
nor in the ordinary printed copies, is given from MS. a.
56
THE WYF OF
Yit he gat the mekle pat vpon the fyre,
And gat twa cannes and ran to the spout,
Er he came it, qt thought ge of yt?
The fyre burnt aw the pat arß out.
Than he beur kendling to the kill,
But scho start all vp in ane low,
Quhat evir he hard, quhat evir he saw,
That day he had na will to mow.
Than he geid to tak vp the bairnis,
Thocht to haif fund thame fair clene;
The first þat he gat in his armis
Was all bedirtin to the ene.
The first that he gat in his armis,
It was all dirt vp to the eine ;
The deuill cut of thair hande, qh he,
That fild gow all sa fow this strene.
He trailit fowll scheitis doun the gait,
Thot to haif wescht thame on ane stane;
The burne wes rissin grit of spait,
Away fra him the scheitis hes tane.
Then vp he gat on ane know heid,
On hir to cry,¹ on hir to schowt,2
Scho hard him, and scho hard him not,
But stowtly steird the stottis abowt.
Scho draif the day vnto pe night,
85
90
95
100
105
Scho lowisit the plwch and syne come hame ;
Scho fand all wrang that sowld bene richt, 111
I trow the man thot richt grit schame.
1 'Cray,' MS. Bann.
2 Vpon the goodwife he cryed mony good shout.'
AUCHTERMUCHTY
57
i
Quoth he, my office I forsaik,1
For all the dayis of my lyf,2
For I wald put ane how to wraik,
Had I bene twēty dayis gudwyf.
Quoth scho, weill mot ge bruke gor place,
For trewlie I will never accep' it;
Quoth he, feind fall the lyaris face,
Bot git ge may be blyth to get it.
3
Than vp scho gat ane mekle rung,
And the gudman maid to the doir ;4
Quoth he, Deme, I sall hald my tung,
For and we fecht I'll gett the woir.
Quoth he, quhen I forsuk my plwche,
I trow I bot forsuk my seill,
And I will to my plwch agane,
For I and this how
will nevir do weill,5
1 'Dame I'le ge ouer my hussies skep.'
2 'Forsooth of my life.'
3 'Dur.' MS. Bann.
4 L. 121-124 are not in the MS. A.
115
120
123
5 'Goodwife your houfs and I will nere doe well,' MS. a.
Finis.
58
THE WYF OF
ADDITIONAL VERSES AND EMENDATIONS
BY ALLAN RAMSAY IN HIS "EVER-
GREEN,” 1724.
L. 7, 8. But schort the storm wald let him stay,
Sair blew the day with wind and rain.
L. 12. He blinkit ben.
L. 13. Set beikand by a fire full bauld.
L. 14. Suppand fat sowp.
L. 15. Being weary.
L. 18.
My owsen has nae.
L. 20. After this line are added :
This seid-time it proves cauld and bad,
And ge sit warm, nae troubles se;
The morn ge sall gae with the lad,
And syne geil ken what drinkers drie.
L. 21. Gudeman, quod scho.
L. 24. After this line are added :
L. 49.
And now sen ge haif made the Law,
Than gyde all richt and do not break;
They sicker raid that neir did faw,
Therefore let naithing be neglect.
He draif the gaislingis.
L. 59. Than by come an ill-willy roan.
L. 61. Syne up he tuk an rok of tow.
L. 63.
He loutit doun.
L. 65.
Before this line the following stanza is inserted:
The leam up throw the lum did flow,
The sute tuke fyre it flyed him than,
Sum lumps did fall and burn his pow;
I wat he was a dirty man:
git he gat water in a pan,
Quherwith he slokend out the fyre :
To soup the House he syne began;
To had all richt was his desyre.
L. 77. He tuke the kirnstaff be the shank,
AUCHTERMUCHTY
59
L. 79. The two left gaislings got a clank.
L. 97-100. These lines Ramsay has altered thus:
The first it smelt sae sappylie,
To touch the lave he did not grein:
The Deil cut aff thair hands, quoth he,
That cramd gour kytes sae strute gestrein.

Ane Ballat of Allane-a'-Maut.
THI
HIS ballad, transcribed from Bannatyne's Manuscript,
1568, is doubtless the most ancient which we now have
of a numerous class of compositions that still preserve no
ordinary share of popularity among the peasantry both of
Scotland and England, respecting this celebrated personage,
"Allane-a'-Maut," or, as he is more frequently styled, Sir
John Barleycorn. It has never been printed, except by Mr.
Jamieson, in his valuable collection of "Popular Ballads
and Songs," 1 where it is accompanied with five or six other
curious pieces of a similar kind, taken from tradition,
or English copies of a more recent period. Among the
later productions of the same class, the Editor cannot help
alluding to a wild and romantic story by his friend Mr.
Allan Cunningham, lately published in his two volumes of
"Traditional Tales." 2
A curious mistake has arisen from the jocular signature
affixed to the poem in the Manuscript, as, instead of read-
ing "quoth Allane Matsonis suddartis," 3 or soldiers, the
name of Allan Watson has found a place in the different
lists and lives of the early Scotish Poets as its author. In
the same manner has the name of John Blyth been registered
among the Scotish Poets as author of a "Ballat of Gude
Fallowis." Surely it requires very little discernment to
ascertain that such names were assumed for the nones,"
and suggested by the nature of the verses.
The only poet
to whom the following ballad can with any degree of likeli-
1 Edin. 1806, vol. ii. p. 231-260.
2 Lond. 1822, 12mo, vol. i.
The signature is not affixed to the copy in Mr. Jamieson's
collection.
60
ALLANE-A’- MAUT
61
hood be attributed is Dunbar, among whose works will be
found a few unpublished pieces of a like kind, and who,
perhaps, assumed no feigned character when he so christened
himself.
The following stanzas, copied from the same MS., may
here be added as a further illustration of the subject. They
are by an anonymous writer, who likewise designates him-
self one of "Allan's soldiers" :-
Quha hes gud malt, and makis ill drynk,
Wa mot be hir werd !—
I pray to God scho rott and stynk
Sevin yheir aboue thé erd;
About hir beir na bell to clynk,
Nor clerk sing, lewid nor lerd;
Bot quytt to hell that scho may sink
The tap-tré quhill scho steird;
This beis my prayer
Fro that man slayar
Quhill Christ in Hevin sall heird!
Quha brewis, and giwis me of the best,
Sa it be stark and staill,
[Baith] quhyt and cleir, weill to degest,
In Hevin meit hir that Aill !
Lang mot scho leif, lang mot scho lest,
In lyking, and gude saill;
In hevin or erd that wyfe be blest
With out barrett or baill :
Quhen scho is deid
With outtin pleid,
Scho pass to Hevin all haill.
QUOD ALLANIS SUBDERT.
Duhy sowld not Allane honorit be.
UHEN he was gung, and cled in grene,
Haifand his air abowt his ene,
Baith men and wemen did him mene,
Quhen he grew on on hillis he ;—
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be? 5

62
ANE BALLAT OF
His foster faider fure of the toun,
To vissy Allane he maid him boun;
He saw him lyane, allace! in swoun,
For falt of help, and lyk to de ;—
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
Thay saw his heid begin to ryse ;
Syne for ane nureiss thay send belyfe,
Quha brocht with hir fyfty-and fyve
Of men of war full prevely ;—
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
Thay ruschit furth lyk hellis rukis
And euery ane of thame had hukis ;
Thay cawcht him schortly in thair clukis
Syne band him in ane creddill of tre ;—
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
Thay brocht him inuart in the land,
Syne euery freynd maid him his band,
Quhill they micht owdir gang or stand,
Neuer ane fute fra him to fle;-
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
The grittest cowart in this land,
Fra he with Allane entir in band,
Thocht he may nowdir gang nor stand,
git fourty sall nocht gar him fle
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
Sir Allanis hewmond is ane cop,
With ane sege feddir in his top:
Fra hand to hand so dois he hop,
Quhill sum may nowdir speik nor se ;
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
10
15
20
25
30
35
ALLANE-A'-MAUT
63
In gule, quhen ilk man singis his carrell
Gude Allane lyis in to ane barrell
Quhen he is thair, he dowtis no parrell
To cum on him be land or se,—
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
git was thair neuir sa gay gallane,
Fra he meit with our maistir Sir Allane,
Bot gif he hald him by the hallane,
Bak wart on the flure fallis he ;-
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
My maistir Allane grew so stark,
Quhill he maid mony cunning clerk,
Vpoun thair faiss he settis his mark,
A blud reid noiss besyd thair E;
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
My maistir Allane I may fair curß,
He levis no mony in my purß,
At his command I mon disburs
Moir nor the twa pert of my fe;—
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
And last, of Allane to conclude;
He is bening, courtaß and gude,
And servis ws of our daly fude,
And that with liberalitie ;-—
40
45
50
55
Quhy sowld nocht Allane honorit be?
60
Finis q; Allane Matsonis suddartis.

ΤΗ
Sir John Barleycorn.
HIS more modern version of a very popular ballad,
on the same topic as the last, is given from a common
stall-copy, printed in the year 1781, with a few corrections,
on the authority of two others of later date. One of these
occurs in the "Collection of Popular Ballads" by Mr.
Jamieson, who is inclined to think it is derived from an
English ballad on the same subject, which he has printed
from a black-letter copy preserved in Pepys' Library.
Burns has given us an altered version of "Sir John
Barleycorn," founded on the present ballad; and although
his good taste led him to preserve all that freshness of
description which constitutes its principal charm, he cannot
be said to have greatly improved it. But the more ancient
appellation of our hero was (as we see) Allan-a-Maut; and
various songs or ballads in his praise are still in circulation.
Sir John Barleycorn.
HERE came three merry men from the
east,

T
and three merry men were they,
And they did swear a solemn oath,
that Sir John Barleycorn they would
slay.
They took a plough and plough'd him down, 5
and laid clods upon his head;
And then they swore a solemn oath,
that Sir John Barleycorn was dead :
64
SIR JOHN BARLEYCORN
65
But the Spring-time it came on amain,`
and rain towards the earth did fall:
John Barleycorn sprung up again,
and so surpriz'd them all.
The Summer heat on him did beat,
and John grew pale and wan ;
John Barleycorn he got a beard,
and so became a man.
They took a scythe that was full sharp,
and cut him down at the knee;
And then they tied him in a cart,
like a rogue for perjury.
They took two sticks that were full hard
and sore they thresh'd his bones;
The Miller serv'd him worst of all,
for he crushed him 'twixt two stones.
The Brewster-wife we'll not forget,
she well her tale can tell,
She has ta'en the sap out of his bodie,
and made of it good Ale.
10
15
20
25
And they have filled it in a cup,
and drank it round and round;
30
And aye the more they drank of it
the more did joy abound.
Sir John Barleycorn is the wichtest man
that ever throve in the land,
He will do more than many merry men
35
by the turning of his hand.
Put Brandy in a brimming glass
Put Rum into a can,
Put Sir John Barleycorn in a stout brown mug,
He'll prove the stoutest man.
VOL. II.
40
E

66 SIR JOHN BARLEYCORN
He'll change a boy into a man,
a man into an ass;
He'll change your gold into silver,
and your silver into brass.
He'll make the huntsman shoot his dog, 45
and never blow his horn;
He'll make a maid stark naked dance,
my pretty little Barleycorn.
And if you'll to yon village go
ye need not fear no scorn,
I swear he will make you twice as strong,
before this time the morn.1
50
1 The following etching was from the hand of the well-
known Edinburgh artist, W. Geikie.

WE gabe


Ane Descriptioun of Pedder
Coffeis.
THIS
HIS satirical poem was originally published by Lord
Hailes among his selections from the MS.
"Ballat
Buik" of George Bannatyne.¹ "What the author meant
by Coffeis," says Lord Hailes (and we cannot use better
words than his own to describe the poem), "he explains in
1. 3, where he speaks of 'Pedder Knavis.' Coffe, in the
modern Scottish language, means rustic. The sense here is
peddling merchants. The seven sorts are, 1. An higgler
and forestaller; 2. A lewd parish priest; 3. A merchant
who traffics in company upon too small a stock; 4. Though
obscurely expressed, is a low-born fellow, who intrudes him-
self into the magistracy of a royal burgh; 5. A fraudulent
bankrupt; 6. A miser; 7. A dignified churchman: the char-
acter of each is drawn from the living manners of that
age."
The Notes 2 subjoined by Lord Hailes, in explanation of
this satirical description, and which Sibbald,3 with a few
slight alterations, adopted without acknowledgment, are too
valuable to be withheld. They are therefore annexed with-
out either mixture or alteration.
There is one thing, however, that, in this place, ought
to be remarked, since the poem has hitherto been published
as an anonymous composition. In the same manner that
other pieces are attributed to their respective authors, the
signature "q. Linsdsay" appears in the manuscript. Al-
though the name be written in a different coloured ink, the
hand is apparently of the same age with that of the poem
1 12m0, Edinburgh, 1770, p. 170.
2 Id. p. 298.
3 Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, vol. i. p. 368.
67
68
ANE DESCRIPTIOUN OF
to which it is affixed. Nor does internal evidence, in any
degree, invalidate the propriety of its being so attributed.
This circumstance having been unnoticed, was perhaps the
cause why it did not find a place in the elaborate edition by
Mr. George Chalmers of the poetical works of Lyon King
at Arms.
let
Ane Descriptioun of Pedder Coffeis having na
Regaird till Honestie in thair Vocatioun.
T is my purpois to discryve
This holy perfyte genolagie
Of pedder knavis superlatyve,
Pretendand to awtoretie,
That wait of nocht bot beggartie, 5
ze burges sonis prevene their lownis,
That wald distroy nobilitie,
And baneiss it all borrow townis.

s;
They ar declarit in SEVEN PAIRTIS
1. Ane (scroppit cofe) quhen he begỹnis,
Sornand all and sindry airtis,
Fo to by hēnis reid-wod he rỹnis;
He lokis thame vp in to his innis
Vnto ane derth, and sellis thair eggis,
Regraitandly on thame he wỹnis,
And secondly his meit he beggis.
10
15
2. Ane swyngeor coife, amangis the wyvis,
In land-wart dwellis wt subteill menis,
Exponand thame auld sanctis lyvis,
And sanis thame wt deid mēnis banis; 20
Lyk Rome-rakaris, with awsterne granis,
Speikand curlyk ilk ane till vder;
Peipand peurly with peteouss granis,
Lyk fenzeit Symmie and his bruder.
PEDDER COFFEIS
69
3. Thir cur coffeis that sailis oure sone,
And thretty sum abowt ane pak,
25
Wt bair blew bonattis and hobbeld schone,
And beir bonnokkis with thame thay tak;
They schamed schrewis, God gif thame lak,
At none quhen merchantis makis gud cheir, 30
Steilis doun, and lyis behind ane pak,
Drinkand bot dreggis and barmy beir.
4. Knaifatica coff misknawis him fell,
Quhen he gettis in a furrit goun;
Grit Lucifer, maister of hell,
Is nocht sa helie as that loun;
As he cumis brankand throw the toun,
Wt his keis clynkand on his arme,
That calf clovin-futtit fleid custroun,
Will mary nane bot a burgess bairne.
5. Ane dyvour coffe, that wirry hen,
Distroyis the honor of our natioun,
Takis gudis to frist fra frēmit men,
And brekis than his obligatioun ;
Quhilk dois the marchande defamatioun ;
Thay ar reprevit for that regratour.
Thairfoir we gif our declaratioun,
To hang and draw that cōmon tratour.
6. Ane curloreouss coffe, that hege-kraper,
He sittis at hame quhen that thay baik,
That pedder brybour, that scheip-keipar,
He tellis thame ilk ane caik by caik;
Syne lokkis thame vp, and takis a faik,
Betwix his dowblett and his jackett,
And eitis thame in the buith that smaik;
God that he mort into ane rakkett.
35
40
45
50
56
70
ANE DESCRIPTIOUN OF
7. Ane cathedrall coffe, he is ouir riche,
And hes na hap his gude to spend,
Bot levis lyk ane wareit wretche,
And trestis nevir till tak ane end;
Wt falsheid evir dois him defend,
Proceeding still in averice,
And leivis his saule na gude cōmend,
Bot walkis ane wilsome wey, I wiss.
I gow exhort all that is heir,
60
66
That reidis this bill, ge wald it schaw
Vnto the provest, and him requeir,
That he will geif thir coffis the law,
And baneis thame the burgess raw,
And to the scho streit ge thame ken ;
Syne cutt thair luggis, that ge may knaw,
Thir peddir knavis be burges men.
70
Finis.
PEDDER COFFEIS
71
NOTES ON THE PRECEDING POEM
BY LORD HAILES, 1770.
St. 2. 1. II. "Sornand all and sindry airts." This
scroppit or contemptible dealer is represented as going about
in every quarter sornand; a contraction from sojournand.
Hence sorners, or sojourners, which so often occurs in our
more ancient statutes. He is here described as solicitous
in purchasing fowls, profiting by the sale of their eggs,
forestalling the market, and drawing advantage from a
dearth. These are topics of popular discontent, which the
Legislature has sometimes sanctified by inextricable statutes.
1
My reason for imagining that scroppit means contemp-
tible is founded on the following passage in Knox, p. 93:
"Thair was presentit to the Quein Regent a calfe having
two heidis; whairat she scorppit, and said it was bot a
common thing."
St. 3. A rascally wencher among the married women,
resides in the country, versant in the arts of subtilty; he
interprets to them the legends of the saints, and sanctifies
them with dead men's bones or relics. Such persons seem
to have raked the streets of Rome for every superstitious
foolery. Sometimes they growl like dogs, in the offices of
religion; sometimes they pitifully whine like the hypocritical
Symmye and his brother.
The first part of this description alludes to the lewd and
inordinate lives of the secular clergy. The description of
their employment in the country resembles that which
the younger Vossius profanely gave of a friend of his :
"Est sacrificulus in pago quodam, et decipit rusticos." In
Lord Hyndford's MS. [the "Ballat Buik of Geo. Banna-
tyne"] there is a poem relative to Symmye and his bruder;
it is obscure, but seems to import that they were what is
termed quæstionarii in the ancient Scottish canons, c. 48,
that is, persons sent out by the Church upon a begging
mission.
St. 4. 1. 25.
"Thir cur coffeis that sailis oure sone,
And thretty-sum about ane pak."
These lines are unintelligible without the aid of the
72
ANE DESCRIPTIOUN OF
statute-book. By Act 24. Parl. 4. James V. it is provided,
“That na merchand saill, without he have ane halfe last of
gudes of his awin, or else in governance, as factour to uthir
merchandes.' And by Act 25. "That na schip be frauchted
out of the realme, with ony staple gudes, fra the feast of
Simon's day and Judes [28 Oct.] unto the feast of the
purification of our lady, called Candlemas." The reader
will now perceive what it was to sail too early, and wherein
they offended, who, to the number of thirty, were joint
adventurers in one pack of goods.
St. 5. 1. 33.
Knaifatica coff misknawis himself." The
word knaifatica has been invented to describe a pedlar of
mean servile original. Every one knows that knave formerly
meant a servant. It is probable that this stanza was aimed
at some living character, remarkable for the insolence of
office.1
1. 38. "With his keis clynkand on his arme."
The keys of a city are considered as the symbols of trust
and power, and therefore they may have been borne by
magistrates. It is an ancient custom for the chief magis-
trate of a city to deliver the keys to the sovereign upon
his first entry.
St. 6. 1. 41. "Ane dyvour coffe." This stanza describes,
in very emphatical terms, the offence of one who, while
unable or unwilling to pay, deals upon credit with foreign
merchants.
It
St. 7. 1. 55.
"And eitis thame in the buith that smaik.'
The word smaik means a pitiful ignominious fellow.
occurs in a curious poem by the Earl of Glencairn, preserved
in Knox, p. 25.
"They smaikis dois set their haill intent,
To reid the Inglische New Testament."
The churl here described, after having carefully numbered
his cakes, conveys one of them under his clothes, and eats
it in his booth or shop.
1 Those who most frequently held the office of Provost of
Edinburgh during the latter part of this reign [Queen
Mary's] were Lord Seaton, Douglas of Kilspindie, and
Symon Prestoun of Prestoun.-SIBBALD.
PEDDER COFFEIS
73
St. 9. 1. 70.
"And to the scho-streit ye thame ken,
Syne cut thair luggis," &c.
Shoes are still sold at Edinburgh in the upper part of the
Grassmarket, which [formerly was] also the place of execu-
tion. It is probable that lesser punishments, such as that
of cutting off the ears of delinquents, were anciently inflicted
in the same place. It has been suggested to the editor,
that by Scho-streit, a street in Perth, still termed the Shoe-
gate, is understood: But there seems no reason for supposing
that this poem was composed at Perth, or that the Shoe-gate
in Perth was a place of punishment.

TH
Ane Ballat of Matrymonie.
HIS humorous poem may serve as a counterpart to
"The Wife lapped in Morels skin," and some other
well-known pieces of English poetry, which were coeval
with it. The original is preserved in a very curious volume 1
of miscellaneous poetry in Cotton MS. Vesp. A. 25, de-
scribed as having once been the property of Sir Henry Savile.
The text is given on the authority of Ritson,2 whose
scrupulous fidelity and correctness have never been called in
question, nor were his antiquarian pursuits, with the pre-
judices entertained for a length of time by his countrymen,
bounded by "the cold river of Tweid." In Ritson's volume
this poem is entitled "The Honey Moon," which has here
been altered, as there seems to be no authority to show that
the period, usually regarded as at least the positive term of
matrimonal happiness (but in which the following ludicrous
adventure is said to have occurred), had, so early as the
latter part of the 16th century, received such an appropriate
denomination. 3
1 MSS. Cotton, Vesp. A. 25.
2 From the Caledonian Muse, 1785, and first published
1821, 8vo, p. 172.
3 Dr. Laing adds: "This ballad has since been compared
with the manuscript in the British Museum, but unneces-
sarily, unless in having afforded an instance of the reliance
that may be placed on Ritson's accuracy."
74
BALLAT OF MATRYMONIE 75
B
Ane Ballat.

Y west of late as I dyd walke,
In the pryme tyme of the day,
Yt was my chaunce to here the talke
Of two yonge folks in fay;
They had not bene married at the
kyrke
Thré dayes then fully past,
The good man bad his wyffe to worke,
Nay soft, quod she, no hesste,
6
For now
I wyll, quod she,
Not worke for thé,
10
I make to God a vowe.
And yf thow wylt not worke, quod he,
Thou drab I shall the dryve.
I would to God, thow knave, quod she
Thow durst that matter pryve.
The goodman for to beate his wyffe
In hande a pase he went,-
He caught two blowes vpon his head
For every one he lent,
15
In dede;
20
He never blan
Beating her than-
Tyll both hys eares dyd blede.
He was so stowte and sterne that stoure,
And fearsse with her in fyght,
That even vpon the stony flowre-
She knokt his head full ryght.
The good wyffe was wonderous wake in hande,
Fearefull and nothing bold,
25
}
76
ANE BALLAT OF
But he had never a fott to stande
When she of hym caught hold
By the crage;
And with her fyst, His mouth she kyst,
As fast as yt myght wagge.
Now then, she cryed lowd, a lake!
I do you well to wytt ;—
But he lay downe vpon his bake,
And she stode on her fett;
Bending her selffe to hym a pace,¹
She cryed him mersy then
And pylled the barke even of hys face
With her commaundements ten;
And oft
She dyd hym dosse Abowt the nose,
Tyll al his face 2 was softe.
30
35
40
Now when the neybowres hard the noyse,
45
So longe betwen them twayne,
They wyst yt was no wanton toyes,
And fast thether they ranne ;
And when they came, in vayne yt was,
The dores was sparred rounde,
50
The good wyffe cryed owt alas!
But he
lay on the grounde,
Well beate;
Lying alonge He sayd among
That better he would her heate.
Hys neybowres they were sore afrayde
That he would kyll hys wyffe,
Then hym full instantly they prayde,
To stynt and leave hys stryffe,
1 'pacce.'
2 'at hys facce.'
55
MATRYMONIE
77
'1
60
And not hys wrath vpon her 'wreache,'
They dyd hym all exorte ;
Nay, nay, quod he, I shall her teache
How she shall be so shorte
With me ;-
Yet on his face She layd apace,
And cryed him styll mersè.
Whiche thing to here the neyboures all
Dyd pytty her so sore,
That to the good man they dyd call,
And sayd, for shame, no more:
65
70
He bad them then go pyke them home,
And there go medle them now;
I am, quod he, not such a one,
To leave fighting for yowe,
I trow:
Yet for all this, They sayd, I wys,
Small neybourehede he dyd showe.
75
Some prayed hym, in avoyding cryme,
That he hys hande would hold ;
Let her, quod he, another tyme,
Not be with me so bolde;
£0
For suredly, and owght I were
To bede her taunt or cheke,-
But he could scante the same declare
She held so fast hys neke,
In a bande;
Alas, quod she, Wyll ye kyll me?
Swete husband, hold youre hande.
1 'wyrke.'
85
78
ANE BALLAT OF
His neyboures then were sore afrayed,
That he would her devoure,
The dorres then being fast sparrèd
They threw them on the floure;
1
The gude wyffe lepte away apace,
When shame had put to flyght,
And he, well blowen about the face,
Began to stand upright,
Nere made;
No wyght of skill, I think, judge wyll
But he thereoff was glade.
90
95
All thoughe his bake was somewhat duste
After a folyshe guysse,
100
Yet was the man hym selffe to lust,—
That scarcely he could rysse.
The good wyffe dyd her chamber take,
Shewing her selff in drede;
To neyboures the goodman myrth dyd make,
To them that sawe that dede,
105
All and some;
To whom he sware,
That he had thare,
Slane her had thay not come.
110
'Wish '2 all yong marryed wyves I wyll
No such masters to preve,
3
But even obey you husbandes styll,
Lesse they do worke yowe greve ;³
And seeing that yt ys not the best
To leve in debate and stryffe,
115
1 'In the floure,'
2. With.' MS.
3 'Dryve' in MS.
MATRY MONIE
79
God send all then '1 that quiet rest
May be with man and wyffe,
Grant vs all pray
To the end:
Both night and day, 120
That God suche grace may sende.
'them,' MS.
:
Finis.
i

THI
King Estmere.
HIS tale,¹ Doctor Leyden suggested,2 might probably
be the same with the "Tale of the King of Estmure-
land's marriage to the King's daughter of Westmureland,"
mentioned in the "Complaynt of Scotland," 1549. But Mr.
Ritson 3 was inclined to identify that tale with the very
ancient "Romance of Kyng Horn," which he has published.
However this may be, it would have been desirable to have
met with a copy of this interesting legend in its original
state. Bishop Percy, from the first edition of whose volumes
the present text is printed, tells us that he has given it
"from two copies, one of them in his folio MS., which
contained great variations.” 4 The other copy, it is more
than probable, was one of his own making, as the Editor,
after many fruitless inquiries, cannot hear of the existence
of any such, either printed or written.5
This romantic tale is certainly of some antiquity.
Bishop Percy says, "As in one of the copies, the King of
Spain is represented as a Pagan, this ballad should seem
to have been originally written while a part of that kingdom
was in the hands of the Saracens or Moors, whose empire
there was not fully extinguished before the year 1491."
There is no occasion to copy out the interesting illustrations
1 Percy's Reliques, 4th edit. vol. i. p. 62.
2 Complaynt of Scotland, Introd. p. 226.
3 Ancient English Metrical Romances, vol. iii, p. 266.
4 It is impossible to say what sort of text the folio MS.
offered, as the owner seems to have torn out the leaves on
which "King Estmere" was once to be found.
5 Compare Percy Folio MS., 1867, ii, 200, note.
80
KING ESTMERE
81
of this tale from so popular a work as the "Reliques," which
prove that several of the circumstances described are strictly
"conformable to the real manners of the barbarous ages."
King Estiere.

EARKEN to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
H
Ile tell you of two of the boldest
brethèr,
That ever born y-were.
The tone of them was Adler yonge,
The tother was Kyng Estmere ;
The were as bolde men in their deedes,
As any were farr and neare.
As they were drinking ale and wine
Within King Estmere's halle :
When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to gladd us all?
Then bespake him Kyng Estmere,
And answered him hastilye:
I knowe not that ladye in any lande,
That is able to marrye with mee.
Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kyng here in your stead,
That ladye sholde be queene.
Sayes, Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merrye Englànd,
Where we might find a messenger
Betweene us two to sende.
Sayes, You shal ryde yourselfe, brother,
I'le beare you companye;
པ་
5
10
15
20
25
Many a man throughe fals messengers is deceived,
And I feare lest soe shold wee.
VOL. II.
F
82
KING ESTMERE
Thus the furnisht them to ryde
Of twoe good Renish steedes,
And when they came to King Adlands halle,
Of red golde shone their weedes.
And whan the came to Kyng Adlànds halle
Before the goodlye yate,
Ther they found good King Adlànd;
Rearing himselfe theratt.
Nowe Christ thee save, good Kyng Adlànd;
Nowe Christ thee save and see!
Right hartilye unto mee.
30
30
Sayd, You be welcome, King Estmere,
40
You have a daughter, sayd Adler yonge,
Men call her bright and sheene,
My brother wold marrye her to his wyffe,
Of Englande to be queene.
Yesterdaye was at my deare daughtèr
Sir Bremor the King of Spayne;
And then she nicked him of naye,
And I doubt shee'le do you the same.
The Kyng of Spayne is a foule paynìm,
And 'leeveth on Mahound
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 deare
Before I goe hence awaye.
Althoughe itt is seven yeare and more,
Syth my daughter was in halle,
She shall come once downe for your sake
To glad my guestès alle.
Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes lacede in pall,
And halfe a hondred of bolde knightes,
To bring her from bowre to hall;
45
50
55
60
KING ESTMERE
83
65
And as manye gentle squieres,
To waite upon them all.
The talents of golde, were on her head sette,
Hanged lowe downe to her knee;
And everye rynge on her smalle finger,
Shone of the chrystall free.
70
Sayes, Christ you save, my deare madàme;
Sayes, Christ you save and see!
Sayes, You be welcome, Kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.
And iff you love me, as you saye,
So well and hartilee,
All that ever you are comen about
Soon sped now itt may bee.
Then bespake her father deare :
Remember well the King of Spayne,
My daughter, I saye naye;
What he sayd yesterdaye.
He wolde pull downe my halles and castles,
And reave me of my lyfe.
And ever I feare that paynim kyng,
Iff I reave him of his wyfe.
Your castles and your towres, father,
Are stronglye built aboute;
And therefore of that foule paynim
Wee neede not stande in doubte.
Plyght 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 troth
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.
76
80
86
90
95
100
84
KING ESTMERE
To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,
That marryed thè might bee.
They had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle forthe of the towne,
But in did come the Kyng of Spayne,
With kempès many a one.
But in did come the Kyng of Spayne,
With manye a grimme baròne,
Tone daye to marrye Kyng Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home.
Then shee sent after Kyng Estmère
In all the spede might bee,
That he must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and lose his ladye.
One whyle then the page he went,
Another whyle he ranne;
Till he had oretaken Kyng Estmere,
I wis, he never blanne.
Tydinges, tydinges, Kyng Estmere!
What tydinges nowe, my boye?
O, tydinges I can tell you,
That will you sore annoye.
You had not ridden scant a myle,
A myle out of the towne,
106
110
116
120
But in did come the Kyng of Spayne
125
With kempès many a one:
But in did come the Kyng of Spayne
With manye a grimme baròne,
Tone daye to marrye King Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home.
130
That ladye fayre she greetes you well,
And ever-inore well by mee:
You must either turne againe and fighte,
Or go home and lose your ladye,
Sayes, Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
My reade shall ryse at thee,
135
KING ESTMERE
85
Whether it is better to turne and fighte.
Or goe home and lose my ladye.
Now hearken to me, sayes Adler yonge,
And your reade must rise at me,
I quicklye will devise a waye
To sette thy ladye free.
My mother was a westerne woman,
And learned in gramarye,
140
And when I learned at the schole,
145
Something shee taught itt mee.
There grows an hearbe within this fielde,
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; 1
That sworde is not in all Englande,
Upon his coate will byte.
And you shal be a harper, brothèr,
Out of the North countrye:
And I'le be your boye, so faine of fighte,
To beare your harpe by your knee.
And you shall be the best harpèr,
That ever tooke harpe in hand;
And I will be the best singèr,
That ever sung in this land.
Itt shal be written on our forheads
All and in grammarye,
That we twoe are the boldest men,
That are in all Christentye.
And thus they furnisht them to ryde,
Of towe good Renish steedes ;
155
160
165
1 This idea occurs in the story of Fulke Fitzwarin (Hazlitt's
"National Tales and Legends," 1892, p. 210-211).
86
KING ESTMERE
And whan the came to King Adlands hall,
Of redd gold shone their weedes.
And whan thè came to Kyng Aldlands hall
Untill the fayre hall yate,
There the found a proud portèr
Rearing himselfe theratt.
170
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,
We been harpers, said Adler yonge,
Come out of the Northe countrèe;
180
We bene come hither untill this place,
This proud weddinge for to see.
Sayd, and your color were whyte and redd,
As it is blacke and browne,
I would saye King Estmere and his brothèr
Were comen untill this towne.
Then they pulled out a ryng of gold,
185
Layd itt on the porters arme :
And ever we will thee, proud portèr,
Thou wilt saye [of] us no harme.
Sore he looked on Kyng Estmère,
And sore he handled the ryng,
Then opened to them the fayre hall yates,
He lett for no kind of thyng.
Kyng Estmere he stabled his steede
Soe fayre att the halle board
The frothe, that came from his brydle bitte,
Light on Kyng Bremors sword.
Sayes, Stable thy steede, thou proud harpèr,
Sayes, Stable him in the stalle e;
Itt doth not beseeme a proud harpèr
To stable him in a kyngs halle.
My ladd he is so lither, he sayd,
He will do nought that's meete;
190
195
200
KING ESTMERE
87
And aye that I cold but find the man,
Were able him to beate.
205
Thou speakst proud words, sayes the Kyng of Spayne,
Thou harper, here to mee;
There is a man within this halle,
Will beate thy ladd and thee.
O lett that man come downe, he sayd,
A sight of him wold I see;
And whan hee hath beaten well my ladd,
Then he shall beate mee,
Downe then came the kemperye man,
And looked him in the eare;
For all the gold, that was under heaven,
He durst not neigh him neare.
210
215
And how nowe, kempe, sayd the Kyng of Spayne,
And how what aileth thee?
He sayes, Itt is written in his forhead
All and in gramarye,
That for all the gold that is under heaven,
I dare not neigh him nye.
Then Kyng Estmere pulled forth his harpe,
And played a pretty thinge :
The ladye upsterte from the boarde,
And wold have gone from the King.
Stay thy harpe, thou proud harpèr,
For God's love I pray thee ;
For and thou playes as thou beginns,
Thou'lt till my bryde from mee.
He stroake upon his harpe againe,
And playd a pretty thinge;
As shee sate by the king.
The ladye lough a loud laughter,
Saies, sell me thy harpe, thou proud harpèr,
And thy stringès all,
220
225
230
235
And as many gold nobles thou shalt have,
As heere be ringes in the hall.
240
88
KING EST MERE
What wold ye doe with my harpe, 'he sayd,'
If I did sell itt yee?
To playe my wiffe and me a fitt,
When abed together wee bee.
Now sell me, quoth hee, thy bryde soe gay
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?
More semelye it is for her fayre bodye
To lye by mee than thee.
Hee played agayne both loud and shrille,
'
And Adler he did syng :
"O ladye, this is thy owne true love;
Noe harper, but a kyng.
O ladye, this is thy owne true love;
As playnlye thou mayest see;
And I'le rid thee of that foule paynìm,
Who partes thy love and thee.'
""
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,
245
250
255
260
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 he drew his brand;
And Estmère and Adler yonge
Right stiffe in stour can stand.
And aye their swordes soe sore can byte,
Through help of gramarye,
270
That soone they have slayne the kempery men, 275
Or forst them forth to flee.
KING ESTMERE
89
King Estmere tooke that fayre ladye,
And marryed her to his wiffe,
And brought her home to merry England
With her to leade his life.
Finis.
280

Adam Bel, Clym of the Cleugh,
A
and William of Clowdeslè.
LTHOUGH this charming Border tale, which is con-
nected with the same district as the " Awntyrs of
Arthur," printed above, is already printed in the " Early
Popular Poetry of England," 1864-6, in the present series, it
seemed almost desirable to let it form part of the volumes;
but in doing so we have not reproduced the whole of the
long and elaborate introduction, contenting ourselves with
rendering the text from a collation of all the known early
copies or fragments of copies, including the two mutilated
leaves, C1 and C 4, of the impression by John Byddell, 4to,
1536, discovered some years ago in the binding of a volume
sent from the Continent. The variations from Copland's
edition are chiefly literal, but here and there an important
emendation or notable change is observable, more especially
in such a passage as that where, in the 4to of 1536, we find
the outlaws preparing to go to Rome to be absolved, whereas
in Copland's undated and post-Reformation one they are
sent to a bishop. The dropped words and other inaccu-
racies in the latter show how soon our popular and fugi-
tive literature began to suffer in passing from one printer
to another.
This charming story, which owed its rise perhaps to the
Cook's Tale of Gamelyn in Chaucer, and which, in one of
its leading features, bears a close resemblance to the tradi-
tional account of an adventure which beſell the Swiss patriot
William Tell about the commencement of the fourteenth
century, was printed, not at all accurately, by Ritson in his
"Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry," 1791, from the only
90
ADAM BEL, ETC.
91
known copy of Copland's edition, preserved among Garrick's
books in the National Library. The present republication
has been formed from a careful collation of the original
edition from Copland's press, with a few readings, as has
been already observed, taken from an imperfect exemplar of
a possibly still older impression formerly in the library of Mr.
Collier. It is proper to apprise the reader that, in Copland's
edition, there is no punctuation.
The late Mr. Hunter, in his "New Illustrations of Shake-
speare," i. 245,1 has shown that an annuity of £4, 10s.,
issuing out of the fee-farm of Clipston, in Sherwood, Notts,
was granted to one Adam Bel, temp. Henry IV. The great
Scotish poet Dunbar (Poems, i. 126), who probably died about
1 Mr. Hunter's own words are as follow :-"King Henry
the Fourth, by letters enrolled in the Exchequer in Trinity
term, in the seventh year of his reign, and bearing date, the
14th day of April, granted to one Adam Bell an annuity of
£4, 10s., issuing out of the fee-farm of Clipston, in the
forest of Sherwood, together with the profits and advan-
tages of the vesture and herbage of the garden called
the Halgarth, in which the manor house of Clipston is
situated.
"Now, as Sherwood is noted for its connection with
archery, and may be regarded also as the patria of much of
the ballad poetry of England, and the name Adam Bell is a
peculiar one, this might be almost of itself sufficient to show
that the ballad had a foundation in veritable history. But
we further find that this Adam Bell violated his allegiance
by adhering to the Scots, the King's enemies; whereupon
this grant was virtually resumed, and the Sheriff of Notting-
hamshire accounted for the rents which would have been
his. In the third year of King Henry the Fifth the account
was rendered by Thomas Hercy, and in the fourth year by
Simon Leak. The mention of his adhesion to the Scots
leads us to the Scotish border, and will not leave a doubt
in the mind of the most sceptical that we have here one
of the persons some of whose deeds (with some poetical
license, perhaps) are come down to us in the words of
one of our popular ballads."-New Illustrations of Shake-
speare, i. 245-6. Compare Gutch's "Lytell Geste," &c.,
i. 318.
92
ADAM BEL, ETC.
1515, must allude to our outlaw in the following passage
from his poem of "Sir Thomas Norray:
"Was never weild Robeine under Bewch,
Nor yit Roger of Clekkinsklewch,
So bauld a bairne as he ;
Gy of Gysburne, na Allane Bell,
Na Simones sonnes of Quhynsell,
At schot war nevir so slie.'
M. Thierry ("Conquest of England by the Normans,"
transl. by W. Hazlitt, ii. 229), most assuredly errs in sup-
posing that the poem was composed in the eleventh century.
It is not older than the "Lytell Geste of Robyn hode,"
which may perhaps be assigned to the fifteenth. But in
the later French editions the mistake has been rectified
probably.
Dr. Rimbault, in his Musical Illustrations to Percy's
Reliques," 1850, 8vo, p. 60, has furnished the tune to which
Adam Bel," &c., seems to have been sung; and the editor
has copied it below. Dr. Rimbault observes :-"The tune
to which this ballad was sung the editor was fortunate
enough to discover on the fly-leaf to a copy of an old music-
book called 'Parthenia Inviolata; or, Mayden Musick for
the Virginalls and Bass-Viol. Printed for John Pyper [circa
1620].' Oblong 4to."
It is interesting even to hope that what follows may be
the original tune for "Adam Bel," &c. The music-book to
which it was found attached appeared nearly a century
later than the poem itself, even supposing that there were
no earlier editions than the one from Byddell's press.
Me-ry
it was
in grene fo rest,
A -
*
$2
4
严
​|

ADAM BEL, ETC.
93
monge the le- vès grene, Whereas men hunt east,

#
###
.
north and west, With bowes and ar-rowes kene.

P
▬▬▬▬

ERY it was in grene forest,¹
Amonge the leues grene,
M
Where that men walke both east and
west,
Wyth bowes and arrowes kene,
1 The ballad of "Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne"
opens somewhat similarly:-
"Whan shaws been sheene, and shraddes full fayre,
And leaves both large and longe,
Itts merrye walkyng in the fayre forrest
To heare the small birdes songe;
"
if at least this piece is genuine, which I doubt that is to
say, as a whole. The story is ancient unquestionably, for
Guy of Gisborne is cited by Dunbar, who died about 1515,
an old man. The corruptions in the Robin Hood ballads,
as they are printed by Ritson and others, are innumerable.
94
ADAM BEL, ETC.
To ryse the dere out of theyr denne,
Such sightes as hath ofte bene sene;
As by th[r]e yemen of the north countrey ;
By them is as I meane.
The one of them hight Adam bel,
The other Clym of the Clogh,1
The thryd was william of Cloudesly,
An archer good ynough.
They were outlawed for Venyson,
These thre yemen evere chone;
They swore them breth[r]en upon a day,
To Englysshe wood 2 for to gone.
Now lith and lysten, gentylmen,
And that of myrthes loveth to here:
Two of them were singele men,
The third had a wedded fere.
Wyllyam was the wedded man,
Muche more then was hys care;
He sayde to his breth[r]en upon a day,
To Carelel he would fare,
For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife,
And with hys chyldren thre.
By my trouth, sayde Adam bel,
Not by the counsell of me :
For if ye go to Caerlel, brother,
And from thys wylde wode wende,
5
10
16
20
25
30
1 i.e., Clement of the valley or ravine. Cloughe is no
doubt cleugh, from cleave, cleft. To clewe is given in
Halliwell's "Archaic Dictionary" as an old form of to cleave.
2 The "
Englysshe wood" mentioned in v. 16, &c., is
Englewood or Inglewood, an extensive forest in Cumber-
land, which was sixteen miles in length, and reached from
Carlisle to Penrith.-Ritson. Perhaps Engwood, Co.
Durham, is a corruption of Engle-wood, which may have
anciently extended thus far. Compare the tale of the
"Awntyrs of Arthur," supra.
ADAM BEL, ETC.
95
If the justice mai you take,
Your lyfe were at an ende.
If that I come not to morowe, brother,
1
By pryme¹ to you agayne,
Trust not els but that I am take,
Or else that I am slayne.
He toke hys leaue of hys breth[r]en two,
And to Carlel he is gon,
There he knocked at hys owne windowe,
Shortlye and a none.
Where be you, 2 fayre Alyce my wyfe?
And my chyldren three?
Lyghtly let in thyne husbande,
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.
Alas, then sayde fayre Alyce,
And syghed wonderous sore,
Thys place hath ben besette for you,
Thys halfe yere and more.
I woulde that I in were ;—
Now am I here, sayde Cloudesle,
35
40
45
50
Now feche us meate and drynke ynoughe,
And let us make good chere.
She feched hym meat and drynke plenty,
Lyke a true wedded wyfe,
And pleased hym wyth that she had,
ذة
Whome she loued as her lyfe.
There lay an old wyfe in that place,
A lytle besyde the fyre,
Whych Wyllyam had found of cherytye
More then seuen yere ;
00
1 i.e., noon. It is commonly used by early writers in
this sense. In the "Four P.P.," by John Heywood, circa
1540, the apothecary says:—
If he taste this boxe nye aboute the pryme,
By the masse, he is in heven or even songe tyme."
3 Old ed. has In.
2 Old ed. has your.
.
96
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Up she rose, and walked full styll,
Euel mote she sped 1 therefoore:
For she had not set no fote on ground
In seuen yere before.
She went vnto the justice hall,
As fast as she could hye:
Thys nyght is come vnto this town
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.
Thereof the Iustice was full fayne,
And so was the shirife also
65
70
Thou shalt not trauaile hether, dame, for nought,
Thy meed thou shalt haue, or thou go.
They gaue to her a rycht good goune,
Of scarlet it was as I herde say[n]e,
She toke the gyft and home she wente,
And couched her downe agayne.
They rysed the towne of mery Carlel,
And came thronging to Wyllyames house,
75
In all the hast that they can,
As fast [as] they myght gone.
Theyr they besette that good yeman,
Round a bout on euery syde,
Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,
That heyther ward [they] hyed.
Alyce opened a shot 2 wyndow,
And loked all a bout,
She was ware of the Justice and the Shrife,
Wyth a full great route.
Alas, treason, cryd Alyce,
Euer wo may thow be!
Gy into my chambre, my husband, she sayd,
Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle.
He toke hys sweard and hys bucler, 1
Hys bow and hy[s] chyldren thre,
1 Old ed. has spende.
2 Old ed. has shop.
80
85
90
ADAM BEL, ETC.
97
And wente into hys strongest chamber,
Where he thought surest to be.
1
Fayre Alice folowed him ¹ as a lover true,
With a pollaxe in her hande:
He shal be dead that here cometh in
95
Thys dore, whyle I may stand.
100
Cloudesle bent a welgood bowe,
That was of trusty tre,
He smot the Justise on the brest,
That hys arrowe brest in thre.
Gods curse on hys hartt, saide William,
105
Thys day thy cote dyd on,
If it had ben no better then myne,
It had gone nere thy bone.
Yelde the, Cloudesle, sayd the Justise,
And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro.
Gods curse on hys hart, sayde fair Alce,
That my husband councelleth so.
Set fyre on the house, saide ye Sherife,
Syth it wyll no better be,
And brenne we therin William, he saide,
Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.
They fyred the house in many a place,
The fyre flew vp on 2 hye;
Alas, than cryed fayr Alece,
I se we shall here dy.
William openyd hys backe wyndow,
That was in hys chambre on hye,
And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe,
And hys chyldren thre.
Have here my treasure, sayde William,
My wyfe and my chyldren thre;
For Christes loue do them no harme,
But wreke you all on me.
110
115
120
125
1 Old ed. has he.
VOL. II.
2 Old ed. has upen.
G
98
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Wyllyam shot so wonderous well,
Tyll hys arrowes were all gon,
And the fyre so fast vpon hym fell,
That hys bo stryng brent in two.
The spercles brent, and fell hym on,
Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle !
But than was he a wofull man,
And sayde, thys is a cowardes death to me,
Leuer I had, sayde Wyllyam,
With my sworde in the route to renne,
Then here among myne enemyes wode,
Thus cruelly to bren.
He toke hys sweard and hys buckler,
And among them all he ran,
Where the people were most in prece,
He smot downe many a man.
There myght no man stand hys stroke,
So fersly on them he ran ;
Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him,
And so toke that good yeman.
There they hym bounde both hand and fote,
And in depe dongeon hym cast :
Now, Cloudesle, sayd the hye Justice,
Thou shalt be hanged in hast.
One vow shal I make, sayde the sherife,
A payre of new galowes shall I for the make,
And the gates of Caerlel shalbe shutte,
There shall no man come in therat.
130
135
140
146
150
155
Then shall not helpe [thee] Clim of the cloughe,
Nor yet [shall] Adam bell,
Though they came with a thousand mo,
Nor all the deuels in hell.
Early in the mornyng the Justice vprose,
To the gates fast gan he gon,
And commaunded to be shut full cloce
Lightile everychone,
160
ADAM BEL, ETC.
99
Then went he to the market place,
As fast as he coulde hye,
A payre of new gallous there dyd he vp set,
Besyde the pyllory.
A lytle boy stod them amonge,
165
And asked what meaned that gallow tre; 170
They sayde to hange a good yeaman,
Called Wyllyam of cloudesle.
That lytle boye was the towne swyne heard,
And kept there Alyce swyne,
Full oft he had sene Cloudesle in the wodde, 175
[Who] had geuen hym there to dyne.
He went out att a creues in the wall,
And lightly to the wood dyd gone,
There met he with these wight yonge men,
Shortly and a none.
Alas, then sayde that lytle boye,
Ye tary here all to longe;
Cloudesle is taken and dampned to death,
Allreadye for to honge.
Alas, then sayde good Adam bell,
180
185
That ever we see thys daye;
He myght her with vs have dwelled,
He myght have taryed in grene foreste,
So ofte as we dyd him praye.
Under the shadowes sheene,
And have kepte both hym and vs in reaste,
Out of trouble and teene.
Adam bent a ryght good bow,
A great hart sone had he slayne:
190
Take that, chylde, he sayde, to thy dynner, 195
And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.
Now go we hence, sayed these wight yong
men,
Tary we no lenger here;
Uor M
100
ADAM BEL, ETC.
We shall hym borowe,¹ by gods grace,
Though we bye it full dere.
To Caerlel went these good yemen
On a mery mornyng of Maye.
Here is a fyt of Cloudesli,
And another is for to saye.
AND when they came to mery Carelell,
In a fayre mornyng tyde,
They founde the gates shut them vntyll,
Round about on euery syde.
Alas, than sayd good Adam bell,
That euer we were made men:
200
205
210
These gates be shyt so wonderly 2 well,
1
That we may not come here in.
Than spake 3 Clym of the Clough :
Wyth a wyle we wyl vs in bryng;
1 To borrow, in the sense of to take, and to guard or to
protect, is so common in early English, that it is unnecessary
to bring forward any illustration of its use in this way. So
the word lend formerly stood for give, and was very rarely
employed in its modern acceptation. Udall, in his play of
'Ralph Roister Doister," not unfrequently uses to borrow as
a synonym for to guard, or shield. Thus in act iiij. sc. 7:
"M. Mery. Now, sainct George to borow. Drum dubbe
a dubbe afore.'
"}
And in the next scene, Merygreek again exclaims:
"What then? sainct George to borow, our Ladies knight."
2 Copland's ed. reads wonderõ. I have followed Mr.
Collier's fragment of four leaves, which commences at this
line; but it may be observed that wonderous, wonderly,
wonderful, and wonder (as adjectives) are used almost in-
discriminately in early texts.
3 Spake him, Copland's ed.
Moll
ADAM BEL, ETC.
ΙΟΙ
Let vs saye we be messengers,
Streyght comen¹ from oure kynge.
Adam said: I haue a lettre writtẽ wel,
Now let us wysely werke,
We wyl saye we haue the kīges seales,
I holde the portter no clerke.2
Than Adam bell bete on the gate,
With strokes greate and stronge,
The porter herde suche noyse therate,
And to the gate faste 3 he throng.
Who is there nowe, sayde the porter,
That maketh all thys knockynge?
215
220
225
Webe two messengers, sayde clymme of ye clough,
Be comen streyght frome our kynge.
We haue a letter, sayd adam bel,
To the Justyce we must it bryng;
230
1 So Mr. Collier's copy; Copland's ed. has come nowe.
2 Porters do not seem to have enjoyed, at any period, a
character for the possession of superfluous intelligence.
Chaucer alludes to their stupidity in Troylus and Cres-
seide: "-
"Come forth, I wol unto the yate go;
Thise portours ben unkonnynge everemo."
3 Not in Copland's ed. It is here inserted from Mr.
Collier's ed. Throng is the preterite of the obsolete word
thring, which was formerly in use both as a verb and a noun.
It is here put for pressed or hastened forward; but, like many
old words, its signification is elastic. We still describe a
number of persons as a throng, and where they are con-
centrating themselves on any given point, they are said to
throng. But thring is no longer found. Lyndsay, in his
"Complaynt of the Papingo" (Works, by Chalmers, i. 305)
introduces thringis [thrings] as a synonym for thrusts :-
"Bot maist redoutit daylie scho doun thringis
Not sparing paipis conquerouris nor kingis."
But Lyndsay also has throng in its modern acceptation.
102
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Let vs in our message to do,
That we were agayne to our kynge.
Here commeth no man ¹ in, sayd ye porter,
By him that dyed on a tre,
Tyll a false thefe be hanged,
Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle.
235
Then spake ye good yeman Clym of ye clough,
And swore by Mary fre,
If that we stande longe wythout,
Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be.
Lo here we haue the kynges seale;
What, lordeyne, art thou wode?
The porter had wende it had ben so,
And lyghtly dyd of hys hode.
Welcome be my lordes seale, sayd he,2
For that shall ye 3 come in.
240
245
He opened the gate ryght 4 shortlye,
An euyl openynge for hym.
Now are we in, sayde adam bell,
Thereof we are full faine,
250
But Christ knoweth, that herowed hell,
How we shall come oute agayne.
Had we ye keys, sayd clym of ye clough,
Ryght wel then sholde we spede;
Then might we cõe out wel ynough,
When we se tyme and nede.
256
1 Copland's ed. has none. I follow Mr. Collier's text.
2 So in Mr. Collier's ed. Copland's ed. has he saide.
Fox, in his "Book of Martyrs," gives the scene where
Cranmer before the Council, seeing that they will not listen
to him, shews them the signet which Henry had given him,
and they at once rise to go to the King, understanding the
token. In the "Blind Beggar of Bednal Green," 1659, Old
Strowd desires 1000 to be sent him, and forwards his
seal-ring to the holder of the money as a guarantee.
3 So Mr. Collier's copy.
• So Mr. Collier's copy.
shall.
Copland's ed. has ye
Copland's ed. has full.
ADAM BEL, ETC.
103
They called the porter to a councell,
And wronge hys necke in two,
And keste him in a depe dongeon,
And toke the keys hym fro.
Now am I porter, sayde adam bel,
Se, broder, the keys haue we here,
The worste porter to mery Carlell,
That they had thys hondreth yere :
And now 1 wyll we our bowes bend,
Into the towne wyll we go,
For to delyuer our dere broder,
Where he lyueth in care and wo.
They bent theyr bowes [then full wel,]
And loked theyr strīges were round,
The market place of mery Carlyll
They beset in that stound;
And as they loked them besyde,
A paire of new galowes there they se,
And the 2 Justice with a quest of swerers,3
That had juged Cloudesle there haged to be.
And Cloudesle himselfe lay redy in a carte,
Fast bounde 4 both fote and hand,
And a stronge rope aboute hys necke,
All redy for to be hangde.5
The Justice called to hym a ladde,
Cloudesles clothes should he haue,
To take the mesure of that yeman,
And therafter to make hys graue.
200
265
270
275
280
I have sene as great a merveyll, said Cloudesli, 285
1 So Mr. Collier's copy. Copland's ed. has Now, &c.
2 Old ed. has they.
3 So in Mr. Collier's copy. Copland's ed. has squyers,
A szerer is a juryman. This is only one of the important
readings of the Collier text. In line 272, Copland's ed.
omits the word in.
4 Copland's ed, omits this word.
5 Copland's ed. has to hange.
104
ADAM BEL, ETC.
As betwyene thys and pryme,
He that maketh thys graue for me,
Hymselfe may lye therin.
Thou spekest proudli, sayd yo Justyce,
I shall hange the with my hande.
Full wel that herde hys bretheren two,
There styll as they dyd stande.
Than Cloudesle cast hys eyen asyde,
And saw hys two breth[r]en stande ¹
At a corner of the market 2 place,
With theyr good bowes bente in ther hand,
Redy the Justice for to chace.³
I se good comforte, sayd Cloudesle,
5
Yet hope I well to fare;
If I might haue my handes at wyll,
Ryght lytle wolde I care.
Then spake good adam bell
To clyme of the clough so fre:
6
Brother, se ye marke the Justyce wel,
Lo yonder ye may him see;
And at the sheryf shote I wyll
Strongly with arowe kene,
A better shotte in mery Carlyll
Thys seuen yere was not sene.
290
296
300
306
1 This word, which is necessary to complete the sense
and metre, is supplied from Mr. Collier's copy. It has
dropped out of Copland's edition.
2 Old eds. have marked. 3 Copland's ed, has chaunce.
4 This word seems to have dropped out of Copland's ed.
It is here given from Mr. Collier's copy.
Old ed. has will.
Free is here used in a not uncommon signification. It
means to say good or brave. In "Ludus Coventriæ the
Saviour is, rather oddly, made to speak of Lazarus as
'my frende so fre; " and in the "Chester Plays" (ed. Wright,
i. 17), Lucifer addresses Lightborne as “my
my frinde fayer and
freey."
ADAM BEL, ETC.
105
They lowsed ¹ theyr 2 arowes bothe at ones,
Of no man had they drede,
The one hyt the Justice, the other the sheryf,
That both theyr sydes gan blede.
All men voyded, that them stode nye,
When the Justece fell to the grounde,
And the sherife fell nyghe hym by,
Eyther had his dethes wounde.
All the Citezeyns fast gan fle,
They durst no lenger abyde,
Than lyghtly they loused Cloudesle,
Where he with ropes lay tyde.
Wyllyam sterte to an offycer of ye towne,
Hys axe out of hys hande he wronge,
On eche syde he smote them downe,
Hym thought he taryed to long."
Wyllyam sayd to hys bretheren two:
Let us togyder lyue and deye,4
If euer you have nede, as I haue now,
The same shall ye fynde by me.
They shot so well in that tyde,
For theyr strynges were of sylke ful sure,
That they kepte ye stretes on euery syde,5
That batayll dyd longe endure.
B
They fought togyder as bretheren true,
Lyke hardy men and bolde,
Many a man to the grounde they threwe,
And made many an herte colde.
But whan theyr arowes were all gon,
1 Discharged.
310
315
320
325
330
335
2 Copland's ed. has the. I follow Mr. Collier's valuable text.
8 Copland's ed. has all to long.
4 Copland's ed. has:-
"Thys daye let us lyue and dye."
I follow Mr. Collier's cd.
Copland's ed. has sede,
Copland's ed. has the.
106
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Men presyd to them full fast,
They drewe theyr swerdes than anone,
And theyr bowes from them caste.
They wente lyghtlye on theyr waye,
Wyth swerdes and buckelers rounde,
By that it was the myddes 1 of the daye,
They had made mani a wound.
340
314
There was many an oute horne in Carlyll blowen,
And the belles bacewarde did they rynge,2
Many a woman sayd, alas,
And many theyr handes dyd wrynge.
The mayre of Carlyll forth come was,
And with hym a full grete route,
350
These thre yomen dradde hym full sore,
For theyr lyues stode in doubte.³
The mayre came armed a full greate pace,
Copland's ed. has mas, and Ritson altered it to myd. I
follow the Collier text.
2 44 Ringing the bells backward" was anciently a practice
to which the authorities of towns, &c., resorted as a sign of
distress, or as an alarm to the people. In Burton's "Ana-
tomy of Melancholy," 1621, p. 371, there is a odd anecdote
illustrating the phrase and custom. Cleveland (Poems, ed.
1669, p. 50) employs the term metaphorically. It was also
the practice in some parts of Italy, and in other Continental
countries, to ring the church bells backward when a fire
broke out, in order to summon assistance, as every one on
such an occasion was formerly, and is still in the majority
of foreign towns, bound to lend his aid. In the English
"Gesta Romanorum there is a story (No. 18 of Madden's
edit.), shewing how "Antonius was a wise Emperoure
regnyng in the citè of Rome, the which ordeynede for a law,
that what tyme there was any fyre in that citè, there shulde
be a bidelle y-ordeined for to avaite hit, and to make an
highe proclamacione in the citè, seying, 'O! there is fire in
suche a place in the citè; hy thou to ryng your bellis,' &c."
3 So Mr. Collier's ed. Copland's ed. has :—
"For of theyr lyues they stode in great doute."
ADAM BEL, ETC.
107
With a polaxe in hys hande,
Many a stronge man wyth hym was,
There in that stowre to stande.
Ye mayre smote at cloudesle ŵ his byll,
Hys buckeler he brast in two,
Full many a yoman w[an] grete yll,
Alas, treason! they cryed for wo.
Kepe ye the gates fast they bad,
Yt these traytours thereoute not go.
But all for nought was that they wrought,
For so fast they downe were layde,
355
360
Tyll they all thre that so manfulli fought,
Were goten without at a brayde.
3C5
Haue here your keys, sayd adam bel,
Myne¹ offyce I here forsake,
Yf you do by my councell,
A newe porter ye 2 make.
He threwe the keys there at theyr heads,
And bad them euyll to thryue,
And all that letteth 3 ony good yoman
To come and comforte hys wyue.
370
Thus be these good yomen gone to the wode, 375
As lyght as lefe 4 on lynde,
They laughe and be mery in theyr mode,"
Theyr enemyes were farre behynde.
Whan they came to Inglys wode,
Under theyr trysty tre,
380
There they founde bowes fulle gode,
1 In Copland's ed., as pointed out by Ritson, this line
and the following are transposed; but in Mr. Collier's
fragment, the text stands as above. In line 366, Copland's
ed, omits at.
2 Copland's ed. has do we.
4 Copland's ed. has:-
3 i.e. prevents, forbids.
"And lyghtly as left on lynde."
5 Copland's ed. reads:-
"The lough an," &c.
108
ADAM BEL, ETC.
And arrowes greate plentè.
So helpe me god, sayd adam bell,
And clymme of the clough so fre,
I would we were nowe in mery Carlell,
Before that fayre meyne.
They sat them downe and made good chere,
And eate and drynke full well.
Here is a fytte 1 of these wyght yong men,
And another I shall you tell.
285
390
S they sat in Inglyswode
As
Under theyr trysty tre,
They thought they herd a woma wepe,
But her they myght not se.
Sore syghed there fayre Alyce,
And sayde, alas that euer I se thys daye:
For now is my dere husbonde slayne :
Alas and wel awaye ! 2
395
Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere breth[r]en,
Wyth eyther of them twayne,
[To lerne a none what of hym hath become]³
My hart were out of payne,
Cloudesle walked a lytell besyde,
And loked vnder the grenewolde lynde,
400
He was ware of hys wife and his chyldren thre, 405
Full wo in hart and mynde.
1 Copland's ed. has set.
2 A common form of lamentation. In the "Chester Plays,"
i. 70, the expression is way le-a-waye, which was probably
the original phrase, and affords no clue to its etymology.
3 A line appears to have dropped out of the old eds.; and
in "Anc. Pop. Poetry" it was supplied by Ritson from a
modern edition to complete the metre. But unluckily this
interpolation was made without any regard to the sense or
context.
ADAM BEL, ETC.
109
Welcome, wife, than sayd wyllyam,
Under this 1 trysty tre;
I had wende yester daye, by swete saynt John,
Thou sholde me never have 2 se.
Now wele is me, she sayde, that ye be here,
My herte is out of wo.
Dame, he sayde, be mery and glad,
And thanke my bretheren two.
Hereof to speke, sayd adam bell,
I wis it is no bote;
The meat that we must supp withall
It runneth yet fast on fote.
Then went they down into a launde,³
These noble archares all thre,
Eche of them slew a harte of grece,4
The best they could there se.
Haue here the best, Alyce my wife,
Sayde wyllyam of cloudesle,
By cause ye so bouldly stode me by
When I was slayne full nye.
Then whent they to theyr souper
Wyth suche mete as they had,
And thanked god of theyr fortune;
They were bothe mery and glad.
And when they had souped well,
Certayne withouten leace,5
Cloudesle sayd: we will to our kynge,6
To get vs a chartre of peace;
410
415
420
425
430
1 Copland's ed. has thus. Mr. Collier's fragment has this.
2 Copland's ed. has had.
3 Lawn.
i.e. a fat hart. The fat of a buck or doe was usually
called its grease or grese.
"I bequeth my grece to the fermeté potte;
Also the remanent, that is past abele."
Wyl Bucke his Testament.
5 i.e. without any falsehood.
6? Henry IV.
IIO
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Alyce shal be at soiournynge
In a nunry here besyde,
My tow sonnes shall wyth her go,
And ther they shall abyde.
Myne eldest sonne shall go with me,
For hym haue I no care,
And he shall you breng worde agayne
How that we do fare.
Thus be these yemen to London gone,
As fast as they maye hye,
Tyll they came to the kynges palays,¹
There they woulde nedes be.
And whan they came to the kynges courte,
Unto the palays gate,2
Of no man wold they aske no leave,
But boldly went in therat.
They preced prestly into the hall,
Of no man had they dreade,
The porter came after, and dyd them call,
And ³ with them began to chyde.
3
435
440
445
450
The vssher sayd: yemen, what wold ye haue?
I pray you tell me;
Ye myght thus make offycers shent,
Good syrs, of whens be ye?
Syr, we be outlawes of the forest,
Certayne withouten lease,
And hyther we be come to our kynge,
¹ Copland's ed. has pallace.
456
460
I have adopted the ortho-
graphy of Mr. Collier's older copy.
2 Here I am sorry to say that Mr. Collier's fragment
breaks off. It has been of very essential service to me in
amending the faulty text of Copland's ed. Fortunately the
1536 fragment now comes to our aid.
3 The first of the two odd leaves of Byddell's ed., 1536,
begins at this line, and has been used to correct Copland's
text.
ADAM BEL, ETC.
III
To get vs a charter of peace.
And whan they came before our kyng,
As it was the lawe of the lande,
They kneled down without lettynge,
And eche helde vp his hande.1
They sayd lorde, we beseche you here,
That ye wyll graunte vs grace:
For we haue slayne your fatte falowe dere
In mony a sondry place.
What be your names? than sayd our kinge,
Anone that you tell me.
:
They sayd Adam bel, Clym of the clough,
And Wylliam of Clowdesle.
465
470
Be ye those theues, than sayd our kynge, 475
That men haue tolde of to me?
Here to god I make a vowe,
1 This is an incident in "John the Reeve," supra. To hold
up the hand was formerly a sign of respect or concurrence,
or a mode of taking an oath; and thirdly, as a signal for
mercy. In all these senses it has been employed from the
most ancient times; nor is it yet out of practice, as many
savage nations still testify their respect to a superior by
holding their hand over their head. Touching the hat
appears to be a vestige of the same custom.
In the present
passage the three outlaws may be understood to kneel on
approaching the throne, and to hold up each a hand, as a
token that they desire to ask the royal clemency or favour.
In the lines which are subjoined it implies a solemn assent
to an oath :-
"This swore the duke and all his men,
And al the lordes that with him lend,
And tharto to held thai up thaire hend."
Minot's Poems, ed. 1825, P. 9.
In the Anglo-Saxon and Bohemian mediæval coinages there
is the well-known hand type, symbolical of the Deity. In the
Scotish courts of law the usage is still maintained of swear-
ing witnesses by this method, the judge and the person
to be sworn both standing, and each holding up his hand.
112
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Ye shall be hanged al three;
Ye shall be deed withoute mercy,
As I am kynge of this lande.
480
He¹ commanded his officers everichone
Fast on them to lay hand.
There they toke these good yemen,
And arested them all thre.
So may I thryue, sayd Adam bell,
485
Thys game lyketh not me.
But, good lorde, we beseche you nowe,
That ye wyll graunte vs grace,
In so moche as we be to you comen;
Or elles that we may fro you passe
With suche weapons as we haue here,
Tyll we be out of your place ;
And yf we lyue this hondred yere,
We wyll aske you no grace.
Ye speke proudly, sayd the kynge,
Ye shall be hanged all thre.
That were great pity, sayd the Quene,2
If any grace myght be.
My lord, whan I came fyrst in to this lande,
To be your wedded wyfe,
The fyrst bone that I wolde aske,
Ye wolde graunte it me belyfe ;
And I asked you neuer none tyll nowe:
Therfore, good lorde, graunte it me.
Nowe aske it, madame, said the kynge,
And graunted shall it be.
430
495
500
505
1 This and the five following lines have been cut off in
the fragment.
Joanna of Navarre we are to presume, if Mr. Hunter's
discovery really refers to the Adam Bell of the ballad; she
became Henry's second wife in 1403. See "The Noble Birth,
&c. of Robin Hood," p. 23 (Thoms' E. P. R., 1828, ii.). It
is popularly known as the episode of "Robin Hood and the
Golden Arrow."
ADAM BEL, ETC.
113
Than, good lorde, I you beseche,
The yemen graunte you me.
Madame, ye myght have asked a bone,
That shold have ben worth them thre:
Ye myght have asked towre¹ and towne,
Parkes and forestes plentie.
None soe pleasaunt to mi pay,2 she said,3
Nor none so lefe to me.
Madame, sith it is your desyre,
Your askyng graunted shalbe ;
But I had leuer have geuen you
Good market townes thre.
The Quene was a glad woman,
And sayd: lord, gramarcy,
I dare undertake for them
That true men shal they be.
610
515
520
But, good lord, speke som mery word,
That comfort they may se.
I graunt you grace, then said our kīg,
Wasshe, felos, and to meate go ye.
They had not setten but a whyle,
Certayne, without lesynge,
There came messēgers out of the north,
With letters to our kyng.
And whan the[y] came before the kynge,
The[y] kneled down vpon theyr kne,
And sayd: lord, your offycers grete you wel
1 Old copies towres.
625
630
2 I have had occasion elsewhere to explain this phrase,
which is by no means uncommon in early English poetry.
So Gower :-
"And thus what thing unto his pay
Was most plesant, he lefte none.
Confessio Amantis, lib. 6.
3 The leaf C i. of ed. 1536 ends here: C 4 recommences at
line 643, and proceeds to the end.
VOL. II.
H
114
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Of Caerlel in the north cuntre.
How fare[s] my Justice, sayd the kyng,
And my Sherife also?
Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge,
And many an officer mo.
625
Who hath them slayne? sayd the kyng,
Anone thou tell me.
540
Adam bel, and Clime of the clough,
And wyllyam of Cloudesle.
Alas, for rewth, then sayd our kynge,
My hart is wonderous sore,
I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde,
I had knowne of thys before ;
546
For I have y-graunted them grace,
And that forthynketh me;
But [and] I had knowne all thys before,
They had been hanged all thre.
The kyng opened the letter anone,
Hymselfe he red it tho,
€60
And founde how these thre outlawes had slane
Thre hundred men and mo;
Fyrst the Justice and the Sheryfe,
And the mayre of Caerlel towne,
Of all the Cōstables and catchipolles
Alyue were left not one;
The baylyes and the bedyls both,
And the sergeauntes of the law,
And forty fosters 1 of the fe,
These outlawes had y-slaw;
And broke his parks, & slaine his dere;
Ouer all they chose the best,
So perelous outlawes, as they were,
Walked not by easte nor west.
When the kynge this letter had red,
1 Foresters.
656
660
586
ADAM BEL, ETC.
115
In hys harte he syghed sore:
Take vp the table, anone he bad :
For I may eate no more.
The kyng called hys best archars
To the buttes wyth hym to go;
570
I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd,
That in the North haue wrought this wo.
The kynges bowmen buske 1 them blyue, 675
And the Quenes archers also,
So dyd these thre wyght yemen ;
With them they thought to go.
There twyse or thryse they shote about,
For to assay theyr hande,
There was no shote these yemen shot,
That any prycke myght them stand.
Then spake wyllyam of Cloudesle :
By god that for me dyed,
I hold hym neuer no good archar,
That shuteth at buttes so wyde.
Wher at? then sayd our kyng,
I pray thee tell me.
At suche a but, syr, he sayd,
As men vse in my countree.
Wyllyam went into a fyeld,
And his to brothren with him,
There they set vp to hasell roddes,
Twenty score paces betwene.
I hold him an archar, said Cloudesle,
That yonder wande cleueth in two.
Here is none suche, sayd the kyng,
680
685
590
596
1 To busk is a very old word for to hie or to betake oneself.
It occurs in Minot :-
"Fals wretche and forsworn, whider wiltou fare,
Busk the unto brig, and abide thare."
Poems (ed. 1825), p. 7.
116
ADAM BEL, ETC.
Nor none that can so do.1
I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudesle,
Or that I farther go.
Cloudesly with a bearyng arow 2
Claue the wand in to.
Thou art ye best archer the said ye kīg,
Forsothe that euer I se.
And yet for your loue, sayd wylliam,
I wyll do more maystry.
I haue a sonne is seuen yere olde;
He is to me full deare;
I wyll hym tye to a stake,
All shall se, that be here,
And lay an apele vpon hys head,
And go syxe score paces hym fro,
And I my selfe with a brode arow
Shall cleue the apple in two.
Now haste the, then sayd the kyng,
By hym that dyed on a tre,
But yf thou do not as y" hest sayde,
Hanged shalt thou be.
And thou touche his head or gowne.
In syght that men may se,
By al the sayntes that be in heavē,
I shall hange you all thre.
That I haue promised, said william,
I wyl it neuer forsake;
And there euen, before the kynge,
600
605
610
615
620
625
1 This passage reads like an imitation of a passage in the
Kyng & the Hermyt" (vol. i. p. 31). Of the latter,
however, no early printed edition is known.
2 So in "Robin Hood and Queen Katherine":-
"Robin Hood hee led about;
Hee shot it underhand;
And Clifton with a bearing arrow
Hee clave the willow wand.'
"}
ADAM BEL, ETC.
117
In the earth he droue a stake,
And bound therto his eldest sonne,
And bad hym stande still therat,
And turned the childes face fro him,
Because he shuld not sterte.
An apple vpon his head he set,
And then his bowe he bent,
Syxe score paces they were out met,
And thether Cloudesle went;
630
There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe;
Hys bowe was great and longe;
635
He set the arrowe in his bowe,
That was both styffe and stronge;
He prayed the people that was there,
That they would styll stande :
For he that shooteth for such a wager,
Behoueth a stedfast hand.
Muche 1 people prayed for Clowdesle,
That his lyfe saued myght be,
And whan he made hym redy to shote,
There was many a wepynge eye.
Than 2 Clowdesle clefte the apple in two,
That many a man it see;
3
Ouer goddes forbode, sayd the kinge,
That thou sholdest shote at me;
I gyue the xviii. pens a daye,
And my bowe shalte thou bere,
And ouer all the north countree
I make the chefe rydere.
640
645
650
654
And I gyue the xii. pens a day, said ye quene,
1 The second remaining leaf (C. 4) of ed. 1536 begins here,
and helps us down to the conclusion.
2 Old copies read Thus.
3 This portion of the story follows very closely the romantic
legend of William Tell; but the incident of the child and
the apple is older even than Tell's time.
118
ADAM BEL, ETC.
By god and by my faye,
Come fetche thy payment, whan thou wylt,
No man shall say the naye.
Wyllyam, I make the gentylman
Of clothynge and of fee,
And thi two brethren yemen of my chambre :
For they are so semely to see;
Your soñe, for he is tendre of age,
Of my wyne seller shal he be,
And whan he cometh to mannes state,
Better auaunced shall he be.
660
665
And, Wylliam, brynge me your wyfe, sayd ye quene,
Me longeth sore her to se,
She shall be my chefe gentylwoman,
And gouern my nursery.
The yemen thanketh them full curtysly,
1
And sayd: to Rome ¹ streyght wyll we wende,
Of all the synnes that we have done
To be assoyld at his hand.
So forth be gone these good yemen,
As fast as they myght hye,
And after came and dwelled wyth the kynge,2
And dyed good men all thre.
Thus endeth the liues of these good yemen,
God sende them eternall blysse.
And all that with hande bowe shoteth,
That of heauen they may neuer mysse.
Amen.3
670
675
680
1 Copland's ed. some bysshop. In line 674 his ought, per-
haps, to be the bishop's.
2 The extension of the royal pardon to the offending out-
law, or outlaws, is a customary feature in this class of piece.
It occurs in "King Henry II. and the Miller of Mansfield,"
in the "Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode," "Robin Hood and
Queen Catherine," &c.
3 Copland's ed. Finis.

The History of Sir Eger, Sir Gryme,
THI
and Sir Gray Steill.
HIS is the Romance of "Eger and Grime," which
Bishop Percy says "is a well invented tale of
Chivalry, scarce inferior to any of Ariosto's; "1 and of
which Mr. George Ellis has given an extended analysis.?
The fabliau constitutes one of the principal features of
interest in the Percy Folio MS., an ignorant and uncouth
transcript in the reign of Charles II., from the popular
English and Scotish literature then in print, in the court
hand of the period. This romance would seem, along
with the poems of Sir David Lyndsay, and the histories
of Robert the Bruce and of Sir William Wallace, to
have formed the standard productions of the vernacular
literature of the country. The author of "The Scots Hudi-
bras," originally printed at London, 1681, under the title
of a
"Mock Poem, or the Whigg's Supplication," in de-
scribing Ralph's library, says:—
"And there lyes books, and here lycs ballads,
As Davie Lindsay, and GRAY-STEEL,
Squire Meldrum, Bevis, and Adam Bell;
There Bruce and Wallace."-
((
To this effect, John Taylor, the Water Poet," a noted
character in the reign of Charles I., speaks of Sir Degre,
1 Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 4th edit., vol. iii.
p. xxxviii. Bishop Percy's Folio MS., edited by Furnivall
and Hales, 1867, i. 341 et seqq. All that was really worth
preserving and printing in these four volumes might have
been contained in one.
2 Specimens of English Metrical Romances, vol. iii. p.
308-357.
119
120
THE HISTORY OF
Sir Grime, and Sir Gray Steele, as having the same popu-
larity in Scotland that the heroes of other romances en-
joyed in their respective countries-" filling (as he quaintly
says) whole volumes with the ayrie imaginations of their
unknowne and unmatchable worths.” 1 We might readily
believe, therefore, that this Romance had been often printed,
if we were otherwise ignorant of the fact-—and yet it is
remarkable enough that every ancient copy should have
hitherto eluded the most active and unremitting research.
The earliest printed edition of which we can find any
special notice is one presumed to be from the press of
Thomas Bassandyne, who is celebrated in our typographi-
cal annals as the first printer of the Sacred Scriptures in
Scotland. In an Inventory of his goods and stock in trade,
inserted in his "Testament Testamentar," which is dated
18th October 1577, amongst a variety of other works, the
following item occurs :-"IIIC GRAY STEILLIS," valued at
the pece vid. Summa VII. x. o." It is not the sum
total of these three hundred copies which should deprive
the writer of this notice from one of the said "Gray-Steillis,"
were he so fortunate as to meet with it. But alas! what has
become of them?
This edition is evidently the one referred to in a poetical
tract of that age, which says-
“Even of GRAY STEILL, quha list to luke,
Thair is set fwrth A MEIKLE BUKE.
›› 2
It
may be inferred that there were many subsequent editions,
as we find "Gray Steill" enumerated amongst the books for
which Robert Smyth, Printer in Edinburgh, obtained in
1595 a grant, under the Privy Seal, of the privilege and
license of printing; which grant was successively confirmed
1 Argument to the verses in Praise of the Great O'Toole,
originally printed 1623, 8vo, and included in Taylor's Works,
1630, folio, sign. Bb. 2.
2 John Davidson's "Memorial of the life and death of
Robert Campbel of the Kinyeancleugh, and his Wife
Elizabeth Campbel. In English Meter. Edinbvrgh, 1595,”
sm. 8vo. The author, who was then a preacher in Edin-
burgh, and afterwards one of the ministers at Salt Preston,
says in the dedication, that it was written twenty-one years
SIR GRAY-STEEL
121
to the sons and heirs of Smyth in 1602; to Thomas
Finlayson in 1606; and to his son and successor, Walter
Finlayson, in 1628.
But the only printed copies which the Editor has yet
been able to meet with are very corrupt reprints, dated 1687
and 1711, of which the latter is entitled:
THE
HISTORY
OF
Sir EGER,
Sir GRAHAME,
AND
Sir GRAY-STEEL.
Newly Corrected and amended.
Printed in the Year 1711.
before, that is, in 1574. The following lines form the
commencement of the poem :-
"Sen Poets in all times before,
Set all their care, and endéuore
Of worthie persons for to write;
Whan euer thay saw them delite,
In wisdome, justice, or manheid,
Or any other vertuous deid:
•
•
As of those Campions most strong
The Trojanes, and the Greeks among
Did Homer write, and Seneca,
Virgil, Ouid and many ma :
Renowmed Romances to rehearse
Wants not their worthies put in verse:
So, we finde deeds of vassalage
Set foorth by Poets in all age,
•
122
THE HISTORY OF
1
This edition was printed at Aberdeen, by James Nicol,
Printer to the Town and University.2 The original is in
the Douce Collection, being the identical copy made use of
by Mr. Ellis, whose transcripts of this and other old Metrical
Romances are now in the Library at Abbotsford, having
been presented by Mr. Ellis's relations to Sir Walter Scott.
The Editor's best acknowledgments are due to his friend
Mr. Douce for the kind manner in which he favoured
him with the loan of the volume for the purpose of re-
publication; and it is gratifying thus to bear testimony to
the kindness and liberality which this gentleman displays in
facilitating literary inquiries, and contributing to the revival
and preservation of (what Master Spenser has denominated)
thinges foregone.3
We know, however, that the Romance of "Gray Steill
was popular in Scotland long previous to the date of any of
the editions which have been alluded to. The following
Euen of Gray-Steill, wha list to luke,
Their is set foorth a meikle buke,
Yea, for to make it did them gude,
Of that rank Rouer Robene Hude:
Of Robene Hude and little Johne,
With sik like Outlaws many one
As Clim of the Clewgh and Cliddislie,
Because of their fine archerie:
Sen men I say than," &c.
1 That of 1687, unknown to Laing in 1826, closely follows
the later impression. The copy was a legacy to him from his
old friend Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe.
2 The place of printing and the printer's name do not
appear on the original title-page; but bound in the same
volume is an edition of "Squire Meldrum" and of "Bevis of
Southampton," which mention these particulars, and all the
three are most unquestionably from the same press.
3 It may be added, that at least one edition of "Gray Steill"
was printed in Ireland. In a Catalogue of Books lately
printed by and for Sam. Wilson and Ja. Magee in Belfast,'
at the end of an edition of Colvill's "Scots Hudibras," printed
at Belfast by and for the said Samuel Wilson and James
Magee, M. DCC. XLI. 18mo, is "The History of Sir Eger,
Sir Grahame, and Sir Gray-Steel."
SIR GRAY-STEEL
123
entries will be found in the Treasurer's Accounts for the
year 1497, at the time when our gallant Monarch, James IV.,
was resident at Stirling:
ITEM, the xvij day of Aprile giffyn to the King that he
tynt [lost, in shooting] at the buttis in Strivelin, vij."
"ITEM, that samyn day to twa fithelaris that SANG GRAY
STEIL to the King,
ix"."
"Sir Egeir and Sir Gryme" is mentioned in the "Complaynt
of Scotland," 1549, in the number of such stories" and
tayles" as were common to the people.
"
Sir David
Lyndsay, in his "History of Squire Meldrum," written
about the same time, says of his hero :—
"I wate he faucht that day als weill
As did Schir Gryme aganis Gray Steill.¹
And again, in the Interlude of "The Auld Man and his
Wife," Lyndsay introduces one of the characters, as a brag-
gart, saying:-
"Now, is nocht this ane grit dispyte,
That nane with me will fecht, nor flyte!
War Golias into this steid,
I dowt nocht to stryk off his head!
This is the sword that slew GRAY STEILL
Nocht half a myle beyond Kinneill." 2
In
From the extract above given under the date of 1497, it
would appear that this Romance had been set to some
particular tune, to which it may have been chaunted.
a curious manuscript volume, formerly in the possession of
Dr. Burney, entitled "An Playing Booke for the Lute".
Noted and Collected" at Aberdeen, by Robert Gordon,
in the year 1627, is the air of "GRAY STEEL;" and there
is a satirical poem on the Marquis of Argyle, printed in
1686, which is said "to be composed in Scottish rhyme,"
and is "appointed to be sung according to the tune of OLD
GRAY STEEL."
Besides these allusions, other evidence of the popularity
1 Lyndsay's Works, by Chalmers, vol. ii. p. 296.
2 Bannatyne's Manuscript, fol. 167.
124
THE HISTORY OF
of this Romance might have been adduced from common
sayings and proverbial expressions which are current to
this day in various parts of the country, although the hero
and his exploits have long since ceased to be remembered.
and
The
In the present copy of the Romance, as Mr. Ellis ¹ re-
marks, "the Printer has evidently followed a very imperfect
Manuscript, with which also he seems to have taken great
liberties, and the story, as it now stands, is so obscurely
told, that the catastrophe is quite unintelligible,"
in Mr. Ellis's abstract is supplied by conjecture.
reader indeed cannot fail to perceive that in many places
the sense is very obscure and the transitions abrupt, all of
which are to be attributed to the corruptions it has under-
gone. As an instance of this, it is observable that the
name of the actual hero, Sir Gryme, is converted to Sir
Grahame. The copy which is contained in the Percy
Manuscript, where it is headed “ Eger and Grine," is less
dilated and prolix than that here used; but, on the other
hand, it has been, in common with the other compositions
of Northern origin, reduced to Southern diction; and, after
careful consideration, it seemed better to allow the Scotish
Chapbook version to rest on its own merits, as, on the
whole, it is probably nearer to the more ancient copies
than the Bishop's Anglicised transcript, and represents more
faithfully the state of the narrative in circulation among
the Scotish folk in "auld lang syne." Both of them, it is
more than probable, would be found to differ essentially
from the original text, if by any chance some of the more
ancient copies should ever be brought to light. Of the Percy
copy, which is divided into fytts or cantos, and contains only
1473 lines, the Editor is enabled to give the following detailed
notice, in the words of the learned and worthy Prelate to
whom the MS. belonged: 3
1 Specimens of Early English Romances, iii. 308-347,
where an analysis is given from the copy of 1711, then be-
longing to Douce.
Ellis's Metrical Romances, vol. iii. p. 308.
3 The substance of this notice is already before the
public in Dr. Leyden's introduction to "The Complaynt
of Scotland," 1801, p. 231.
SIR GRAY-STEEL
125
Account of the Romance "EGER and GRIME," communi-
cated to DR. ROBERT ANDERSON by BISHOP Percy,
Sept. 20th, 1800, for the information of WALTER
SCOTT, ESQ.
"The old Metrical Romance, entitled 'Eger and 'Grime,'
occurs in page 124 of the old folio MS. referred to in the
'Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,' in 3 vols., but was by
oversight omitted in some copies of the list of Metrical
Romances prefixed to vol. iii. page xxxviii., where it should
be No. 12; yet is it one of the best of these ancient epic
tales, and little inferior to any in Ariosto, &c. It is in six
parts (or cantos) whereof,
Part I. contains 346 lines.
-
190
185
II.
III.
IV.
196
V.
364
VI.
192
N.B. The unequal extent
of the different books is
remarkable.
Total 1472
"The copy in this old MS. is tolerably correct, yet
somewhat modernized in the rhimes, as where it should
be hond it is written hand; for the copyist grew so careless,
that it is in this piece occurs the blunder mentioned in the
Advertisement to the 4th edition of the 'Reliques,' p. xii.
viz. want and will for wanton will.
"It thus begins, and is all in distichs:
'It ffell sometimes in the land of Beame¹
there dwelled a Lord within yt realme
The greatest he was of renowne
except the K yt ware the crowne
the called him to name Erle Bragas
he marryed a ladye was fayre of face
they had noe child but a daughter younge
in the world was none soe fayre thing
1 "This is a fac-simile transcript as far as it goes."
126
THE HISTORY OF
They called yt Ladye Winglanye
husband wold she never have none
Neither for gold nor yett for good
Nor ffor no highnesse of his blood
Wtout he wold with swords dent
Win every battle where he went
[I omit a few lines.]
There was in that same time
a courtoous Kt called Sr Grime
& of Garwicke Lo. was hee
he was a wise man & a wittye
Soe there was in the same place
a young Kt men called Egace
But his name was Sr Eger
ffor he was but a poore bachlour.'-
"These two knights are represented as sworn friends, and
perform many acts of chivalry for each other; and after
many curious adventures, Sir Eger marries Winglayne, the
rich heiress of Earl Bragas."
THE notices which have been detailed may, perhaps,
suggest the inquiry whether or not the present tale be
the one actually alluded to. It appears that the name of
Gray-Steill has been applied at various times to distin-
guished persons, between whom and the nominal hero of
the romance it is not easy to discover any marked
peculiarity of resemblance. Thus, Hume of Godscroft, in
his history of the family of Douglas,¹ relates of Archibald
Douglas of Kilspindie, that James the Fifth of Scotland,
"when he was young, loved him singularly well for his
ability of body, and was wont to call him his Gray-Steill.'
William, first Earl of Gowrie, is so denominated in one of
Logan's letters, 2 produced as a proof of that alleged and
"
1 Hume's "Douglas and Angus," fol. edit. 1614, p. 262.
2 The evident purport of these words was to confirm the
notion that John, Earl of Gowrie, was actuated in that
conspiracy with the desire to revenge his father's death,
who was executed when his son was a child of about six
years of age. But these letters have all the appearance of
being gross fabrications.
SIR GRAY-STEEL
127
mysterious conspiracy, which, in all probability, shall
remain a question of doubtful interpretation. Alexander,
Earl of Eglintoune, was a third person who obtained the
name of Gray-Steill. Of this nobleman, the only Gray-
Steill preserved in picture, it has been deemed not superfluous
in this publication to give a portrait, taken from a curiously
illuminated parchment in the possession of the Earl of
Eglintoun. This Indenture is adorned with portraits of
Lords Eglintoune and Airds, armorial bearings, cyphers,
flowers, birds, &c., all extremely well executed; and, as
it is rather of an extraordinary nature, being what our
Shakespearian readers would term Much Ado About
Nothing," it is here subjoined for the satisfaction of the
curious:-
"
"THIS Indenture made the seven and twentieth day
of Februarie, in the yeire of our Lord one thousand six
hundred and thirty, betwene the right honourable Sir Hugh
Montgomery Knight, Lord Viscount Montgomery of the
great Ardes on the one parte, and the right honourable
Alexander Earle of Eglinton in the kingdom of Scotland
on the other part, witnesseth that whereas the said Lord
Viscount Montgomery being discended of the honourable
howse of the Earles of Egleinton within the said kingdom
of Scotland, is most willing that hee and his heires should
at all tymes forever hereafter acknowledg the respect and
duty which they owe to the honour of the said howse, in
consideration whereof, and for the naturall love and affection
which hee the said Lord Viscount Montgomery hath to the
said Alexander now Earle of Eglinton and his heires, the
said Lord Viscount Montgomery for him and his heires.
doeth grant, covenant, and agree to and with the said
Alexander Earle of Eglinton and his heires Earles of
Eglinton, which shal be of the name and surname of
Montgomery, that the heire and heires of the said Lord
Viscount Montgomery shall, in perpetuall remembrance of
that love and dutie, freely give and deliver one faire horse
of the value of thirty pounds of lawfull money of and in
England, or thereabouts, to the said Alexander Earle of
Eglinton and his heires being of the surname of Mont-
gomery, within the space of one yeare after the heire and
heires of the said Lord Viscount Montgomery shall have sued

LEXANDER
1630
་་་་
་་་་་་
NONI
ERLE
8
00
8888
SIR GRAY-STEEL
129
forth his or there livery, and entered into their manners,
lordships, lands and hereditaments within the Kingdoms
of Ireland and Scotland; and the said Lord Viscount
Montgomery for himselfe, his heires and assignes doeth
covenant promise and agree to and with the said Alexander
Earle of Eglinton and his heires Earles of Eglinton, by
theis presents, that upon default of the delivery of the said
horce of the said price of thirtie pounds by the heire or
heires of the said Lord Viscount Montgomery made at
the same tyme, contrary to the true intent and meaning of
theis presents, that then it shall and may bee lawfull unto
the said Alexander Earle of Eglinton and his heires Earles
of Eglinton, being the surname of Montgomery, to fine for
the same, together with the sume of fifteene poundes ster:
of like money, nomine pene, for every such default to bee
made by the heires of the said Lord Viscount Montgomery,
having first given due advertisement and notice of theis
presents unto the heire by whom the default shall happen
to be committed as aforesaid: and the said Hugh Lord
Viscount Montgomery doeth by theis presents covenant,
promise and agree to and with the said Alexander Earle of
Eglinton, that hee the said Lord Viscount Montgomery
shall and will doe, make, acknowldge, finish, and execute
all and every such other reasonable act or acts, thing and
things, conveyance or assurance in the lawe, for the good
and perfet assurance and surety for the delivery of the said
horse of the price aforesaid according to the true meaning
of theis presents, as by the said Alexander Earle of Eglinton
shal be reasonably devised or required, soe that the said
Lord Viscount Montgomery bee not desired to travaile
for the making or acknowleding of such assurance from his
dwelling house. In witnes wherof the said partyes have
hereunto interchangeablie putt their hands and seals the day
and yeire first above written.
MONTGOMERIE.
Signed, sealed and delivered in pres.
of Montgomerie. G. Montgomerie.
Montgomerie senior. R. Mont-
gomerie Minister of Newtowne."
For the above information, and the accompanying
etching of the said portrait, as well as for the elegant design
VOL. II.
I
130
THE HISTORY OF
which serves as the frontispiece to the first volume, the Editor
gratefully acknowledges his obligations to CHARLES KIRK-
PATRICK SHARPE, Esq., whose ingenuity and skill have
been so often and so successfully exerted in behoof of his
friends. This gentleman, in reference to the present
Romance of "Gray-Steill," says, If this be all that ever was
sung of him, it was no great compliment to bestow his name
on subsequent worthies. There might be some reason as to
Lord Gowrie's nick-name, for it is plain that Gray-Steill
was a sort of magician; and Spottiswood says that Gowrie
was too curious, and said to have consulted with wizards,
&c.'1-but for Lord Eglintoune, it is only known that he
fought stoutly for the Solemn League and Covenant, was
never vanquished by Sir Grime, and had no deeper dealings
with the Devil than the rest of his fellow Puritans."-" It is
a curious trait of Gray-Steill (Mr. Sharpe continues) that
he cut off the little fingers of the Knights whom he con-
quered—probably for some magical operation—as he re-
sided in 'the land of Doubt,'-perhaps he is a personifica-
tion of Impiety :-the anger of the Lady when her Knight
went home without his little finger is very amusing-
considering into what hands he fell, she might have been
thankful that he made not greater losses.'
1)
There is no occasion to lengthen out these notices of this
Romance, except to observe, that it contains too many
indications of belonging to an early period to leave us to
imagine it to be only a recent composition. The allusions
throughout to the spirit and usages of chivalrous times
would certainly have been less observable had it been written
at a time when these had gone by. Judging, then, from
peculiarities in the style, and from the structure of the verse,
we might not greatly err were we to assign it to the period
which produced the "Life and Acts of Robert the Bruce,"
that is, to the reign of Robert II. or the close of the
fourteenth century.
The name of Gray-Steill, bestowed on one of the heroes
of the tale, refers of course to the colours of the armour
1 How very absurd and unfounded was such a report,
appears from the contemporary account of the Earl of
Gowrie's Trial, May, 1584. Bannatyne Miscellany, part 1st.
SIR GRAY-STEEL
131
worn by him, and is in consonance with the practice
followed in other romances ("Sir Gawayne," "Roswall and
Lillian," &c.) of distinguishing in this manner the various
characters.
The History of Sir Eger, Sir Gryme, and
Sir Gray-Steel.

NTO the kinrick of Bealm,
There winn'd a lord of that realm;
He was the greatest of renown,
Except the king that wore the crown;
His name was earle Diges,
6
And his lady dame Biges;
And his daughter Winliane,
Husband would she never have nane,
Neither for gold, nor yet for good,
Nor yet for highness of his blood,
But only he, that through swords dint
Ever wan, and never tint.
Als there was men in that kinrick,
Many one, but very few sik,
They fought far off her for to fang,
And she was maiden wonder lang.
Her father had a noble rout
Of bold knights, strong and stout;
But in that court there was a knight
An hardy man, both good and wight,
They called him Sir Eger,
And he was but a batcheler :
10
15
20
His eldest brother was livand,
And brooked all his father's land;
Yet he was courteously taught,
25
And he sought battells far, and fought
And conquered the honour
With weapons and armour,
132
THE HISTORY OF
Both in battels and in fight;
While on a time that she him heght,
And she granted him her good will;
Her father assented soon theretill:
Her friends were fain that she would
Once in her heart it for to hold,
That she would have to her a pier,
A barron, or a batchelier.
There was into that earles train,
A young knight that heght Sir Gryme ;
Sir Eger and he,
They were of one companie :
They were not brethren born,
But they were brethren sworn ;
They were not of one blood,
But they were fellows very good;
They had a chamber them alone,
Better loved never none.
While that upon a time Sir Eger,
For to win honour mare,
And he went forth, him alone,
30
35
40
45
And, all vanquished, came he home,
In his chamber, upon a night,
50
Wounded sore and evil dight;
His knife was tint, his sheath was tane,
His scabert by his thigh was gane :
He had mo wounds with sword and knife,
Than ever man that had his life
A truncheon of his spear he bare
To lean him on; he had no mare :
On his bed side he sate him down,
He groaned sore, and fell in sown.
Sir Gryme agast, and wightly rase,
And goes to him, and said, "Alace!
I for thy sorrow am full wo,
That I was then so far thee fro,
55
60
SIR GRAY-STEEL
133
When that thou stood in such distress,
And I at home in merriness:
When we departed at yond gate,
Thou was full blyth, and light of late;
Very deliver of thy weed,
To prove thy man-hood on a steed;
And thou art now both gool and green,
Into thy walk where thou hast been:
What ever he was that gave thee sailyie,
It was not little that made thee failyie."
"I am wounded and hurt full sore,
And tint my man-hood for evermore :
Lost the lady, for she is gone!
Other knights have stayed at home,
Keeped their man-hood fair and clean,
Will brook her now before mine een."
Then said Sir Gryme to Sir Eger,
"Ye grieve you more than mister were,
Is none seemly in his weed,
To prove his man-hood on a steed?
In battel though he be destroyed,
Why should his man-hood be reproved,
Or yet his ladies love to tine?"
Sir Eger said, "Let be, Sir Gryme,
I rode adventures for to see,
Bodden as a man should be;
Likelier armour than I had
Was no Christian man in clade :
Weapons and steed thereto,
A bodie like right well to do.
I saw no man, so God me reed,
But one knight upon a steed:
Hand for hand together we ran
But company of any man;
He forcely pricked me again,
Defouled my self, my steed hath slain :
65
70
75
80
85
99
936
95
100
!
134
THE HISTORY OF
I met a man into my fare,
Forbade me that I should come there,
But if I sicker were and traist,
Of courage keen and mights maist,
Neither of heart, nor yet of hand,
Nothing feeble nor yet dreadand;
And armed well in sicker weed,
Weapons, for they will stand in stead;
Of mine horse he held him payd,
He bade me if I were affrayd :
Counsell'd me I came not than
Within repairing of that man,
I should be ready, and not to light,
To byde the coming of that knight,
For then there should no leasure be
But either to fight or else to flie.
105
110
115
"I took my leave, and forth I fure,
Beside a mount upon a moor:
Then I perceived by my sight,
That he had teached me full right,
120
And understood which was the land;
A forrest lay on every hand,
A river that was deep and wide,
I found no entress at a side,
Unto a foord, and over I rode,
Unto the other side, but bode;
And I had but a short while ridden
Into the land that was forbidden:
When I heard moving in the street,
As it had been of horses feet:
My steed before me had good sight,
Cast up his head, and worthed light;
He crap together, and would have run,
I hearkned where that din should come ;
I looked a little me before,
I saw a knight ride on a sore,
125
130
135
SIR GRAY-STEEL
135
With red shield and red spear,
And all of red shined his gear :
He rode upon a sturdie steed,
He let him come with all his speed:
Our horse together rushed keen,
Alace, that meeting I may mean!
For through birnie and through blasoun,
Through actoun and through habergeon,
Out through my gear both less and mare,
And through my body he me bare :
Yet still upon my sadle I sate,
And on his breast my spear I brake;
His spear again to him he drew,
He mist myself, my steed he slew ;
Then lighted I deliverlie,
But not so soon, ready was he
Ere ever I might my good sword weild,
Again he strake me in the shield ;
Through force of him, and of his steed,
He bare me down, and over me yeed :
140
145
150
155
And then on foot I started soon,
And thought as I had lately done,
For to revenge my steeds bane,
The great defoul myself had tane;
And even as he by me out drew,
I mist himself, his steed I slew:
To counter on foot he was full thra,
His good spear I stroke in twa :
He drew a sword, a worthie weapon,
The first dint on me could happen ;
For through ventil and pensil he share,
Into my shoulder five inch and mare.
Then I hit him upon the crown,
A cantil of his helm dang down;
And for that strake I would not let,
Another upon him soon I set,
160
165
170
136
THE HISTORY OF
Upon his breast with a fell braid,
At the ground I thought he had been laid:
Also I thought well he had gotten,
But at that strake my sword was broken.
I drew a knife, I had none other,
The which I got it from my brother:
Another of steel soon hath he tane,
In hands we are together gane.
Upon his belt with all my pith
I strake him, while he groaned with,
While I got blood through all his gear ;
And he me stroke in the visier,
And wounded me into the face,
Mine een was sav'd, such was my grace;
I stroke him upward in the head,
And in the helmet my blade I leav'd,
And with mine heft behind the hand,
I strake him while that I might stand;
While there came blood through the steel,
He wants some teeth I wote right weel.
But what through blood, and proper stress,
My mights waxed less and less.
He had a knife of fine steel,
He strake fast, it lasted right weel;
Mine habergeon of Millain wark
Lasted me no more than my sark:
Nor mine actoun of Millain fine,
First was my fathers, and then mine;
Mine harness helped me not a resh,
It stinted never but in my flesh.
When I was blinded with the blood,
And all was gone should do me good;
When blood me blinded, then in soun
Betwixt his hands I fell down ;
And there a while in sown I lay.
"When I o'rcame he was away;
175
180
185
100
105
200
205
SIR GRAY-STEEL
137
My little finger I mist me fra :
And when I looked there I sa
A slain knight, beside me lay,
His little finger was away;
And thereby might I right well see,
The knight met both with him and me.
"Beside me ran a river strand,
And there I crap on feet and hand,
And from mine eyes I washt the blood,
And drank while that I thought it good:
When I had cooled me, up I raise,
And looked about in every place:
My steed lay sticked, a little me fro,
And his lay stricken the back in two.
My weapons still there they lay,
My knife, my sword, none was away;
But all was broken and none was hail,
And with mine hands I could them wail.
A truncheon of mine own spear
Me thought it heavy for to bear:
Of a sadled horse I got a sight,
210
215
220
225
He was right lean, but he was wight;
230
He had gone bridled days nine,
For fault of food was like to tine :
Heavily in the sadle I strade,
And all the day on him I rade.
"When day was gone, and come was night,
230
Of a castle I got a sight:
A little from a noble town,
At an harber I lighted down,
The fairest bow'r I saw me by,
That ever I saw since born was I.
I lean'd me on my sadle to rest,
Bethinking me what was the best;
For I had need some me to mend,
And I was loth for to be kend:
210
138
THE HISTORY OF
I had been but a short time there,
When that a woman, sweet and fair,
Came walking from the harber green,
And at the bour she would have been ;
She stinted when she could me see,
A lady seemed she to be;
And in scarlet she was clade,
And all the weed that she on hade,
In red gold could it birn,
And rich pearles set therein.
It seem'd to me by her parage,
She was a lady of great linage:
And though that I had bled my blood,
Yet still upon my feet I stood;
And she descried me full right,
And hailsed me then as a knight.
Right as a knight she hailsed me,
And I her in the same degree.
66 Sir, she said, by mine intent,
Ye have need of better easement;
And here beside there is an hall.
A little space under the wall :
Therein is many cruel knight,
And leeches that are true of plight,
That ever man came in mister till;
Thereto the kindest lord at will;
Since I'm the first that with you met,
I would you were the better bet.
"Then said I to the lady fair,
I would not be in such repair;
But I require you, if ye might,
Of privie guesting for one night;
And a maiden me for to keep,
While I were eased with a sleep;
And some ease for mine hackney.
She said, I shall find if I may.
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2
260
265
270
276
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SIR GRAY-STEEL
139
"Then into her bow'r she me led,
It was great joy to see her bed :
She set me down, and I was fain;
And lustily turn'd she again
To her maidens, she had but two,
And both she caus'd from her to go;
The one, mine hackney to his stead,
And at his liking could him feed;
The other went with counsel soon,
As she her bade, so hath she done :
Baked fowles she brought again,
Spice and wine, bread of main;
A laver they have gotten soon ;
Warm water into it was done,
And in a silver basen
Her own hands washed mine een:
And when she saw mine hands bare,
Then waxt mine anger far the mare,
My glove was hail, my finger was tint,
She might well know it was no dint.
For Gray Steel he was of such pride,
And his sword waxed ay so wide,
Of what countrey that he was commin,
She might wit well I was o'rcommin.
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230
295
300
"She perceived that I thought shame: 305
She asked not what was my name,
Or of what countrey I was come,
Into what place, or in what room,
Or of what countrey that I were,
But eased me in all manner.
Such drink, then, as she gave me there,
Saw I never in my fare!
That so much could me so restore,
For I was vanquisht all before;
310
More weak and weary might no man be, 315
And dry'd for blood as any tree.
140
THE HISTORY OF
Her drinks they brought me soon in state
That I might speak, and answer make.
She and her maids, those ladys three,
Of all my gear they spoiled me:
Both of mine habrek and mine actoun,
Washed me syn, and laid me down ;
'With' her own hands, white as the milk,
She stopped my wounds full of silk;
And syne laid me into a bed,
That was with silken sheets spred.
"Then to the lady could I say,
No longer than against the day,
It is not my will for to lend,
For I would that no man me kend;
But I may ever more conteen,
Into such state as I have been,
It were good time to me to boun
Of the gentrice that ye have done.
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330
"Sir, then she said, against your will, 335
I cannot treat you to bide still,
But if it likes you to tarry,
Shall no man know your privity,
Nor yet myself I shal not fraine,
And though I wist, I could it lain.
Ly still and sleep with God's blessing,
I shall you waken then in due time.
"Her self, nor yet her maidens two,
That night into no bed would go ;
A plastron on her knee she laid,
And thereon love justly she plaid;
Thereto her maidens sweetly sang.
This lady sighed oft amang,
What countenance ever she made,
Some heavy thing in heart she had.
Spice they had, and noble wine,
And ever took when they had time,
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345
350
SIR GRAY-STEEL
141
And sundry times at me they sought
If that I would, or yarned ought;
And thus they put the night near by.
Then soon after great din heard I
Of bonny birds in a herbeir,
That of love sang with voice so clear
With diverse notes. Against the day,
She came to me without delay,
And brought me drink into an horn,
And since the day that I was born,
Such a good drink I never gat;
When I had drunk, she could me hap,
Within a day she came again,
Of all my gear she made me plain.
The drink that she gave me was green,
Into my wounds it might be seen;
The blood was fled when it was there,
And all was sound, before was sair.
The bloody tents away she drew,
And tented me again with new:
The tents that in my wounds yeed,
Trust ye well, they were no threed:
They were neither lake nor line ;
356
360
366
370
875
Of silk they were both good and fine :
The mistenting of my wounds,
Cost that lady twenty pounds.
Withoutten spice, salves or gries,
And other things that did me ease.
My linnen cloaths were washed clean,
The blood in them might not be seen;
A sark of silk, that was full dear,
She put on me, which I have here ;
And syne put on mine own abone,
And all my cloathing she hath undone
And all my armour less and mare,
She would not let me leave ought there:
380
385
142
THE HISTORY OF
Of mine habreke I had great dreed,
It should me hurt and cause me bleed,
The sorest wound that grieved me,
I wist not where that it might be,
But it was as sicker and sound,
As never weapon had wrought me wound.
"Then to the lady fair said I,
Either I am in fantasy,
Or else ye are the fairest may,
That ever I saw before this day;
All that ever hath wrought me wo.
She said, would God that it were so!
But I know by your buskening,
That ye have something in studying;
For your love, sir, I think it be:
But trust ye well and certainly,
As soon as love makes you agast,
Your ointments will you nothing last;
Your wounds they will both glow and gell,
Sow full sore, and be full ill;
But ye have mends, that ye may mean,
Unto your love where ye have been ;
And bid her do as I have done,
And they will soft and sober soon.
My ring, my beeds forth I dreugh,
Of most fine gold and good enough;
She would not take them of me lang,
But on her bed down them I flang:
Her maidens brought me forth a scail,
Of fine main bread and fowls hail,
With bottles full of finest wine,
And thereupon I lived syne.
Oft have I sleeped in my fare,
But short sleeps I think they were;
Evil reposed, weak and faint,
But sickness made me never grant:
:
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400
405
410
416
420
SIR GRAY-STEEL
143
Nor soreness found I never a pyle,
While I came here within a myle;
Then all my wounds did open once,
As knife had gone threw flesh and bones;
I fell down dead as any stone:
When I o'rcame, mine horse was gone,
A bed then I would had rather,
Than my weight of gold and silver.
"Now have I told you less and mare
Of all that hapned in my fare:
How I did suffer all the pain,
And how the lady sent me hame.”
Sir Gryme, a sober man and meek,
Whatever he thinks, little will speak:
Then said he to Sir Eger:
"It forethinks me that ye were there:
I bade you always hold you well,
And namely from that man Gray-Steel,
For he is called uncannand,
425
430
435
440
And spoken of in many land:
Many have proved him for to sla,
445
And all failed, and did not sa:
And now its best to make good chear,
And I am glade to have you here.
From the lady we will not lane,
That ye are now come home again ;
450
That ye were in a far countrie,
And vexed with a fell minyie."
Sir Eger wist not, nor yet Sir Gryme,
Where the lady was all the time:
The bour wherein the lady was,
Was from the hall a little space:
456
Upon her love she had great thought,
She lay waking, and sleeped nought,
And at the window had great sight;
When she perceived there was a light,
460
144
THE HISTORY OF
And longed sore to speak with him;
She trowed right well that he was come.
A scarlet mantle hath she tane,
And to the chamber is she gane ;
She heard them with a privy din,
She stood right still, and stood within,
Under the wall she stood so still,
Heard the manner that it was ill;
She had no more things for to frame,
But to her chamber past again.
So privily she is not gone,
But they perceived that there was one
They were rede and discovered :
Sir Gryme about his bed reiked,
And both the windows opened plain,
And saw the lady pass again;
With the light he looked farre to,
Perceived well that it was scho.
Sir Eger says, "Who makes that din ?"
He said, "My spaneyard would be in."
Sir Gryme ceased not, nor would blin,
While that he got a man therein,
That right well with all wounds could deal,
And was right happy for to heal :
And yet, ere day, the word was gone,
That Sir Eger was coming home,
And had mo wounds with sword and knife,
Than ever man that had his life
406
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476
480
486
Riches may make him no remead,
There is no life for him, but dead,
The Earle into his chamber went,
The Countess, and her maidens gent,
And they beheld him so deadly;
490
He spake not, whatever they say,
Nor no language to them he had,
496
But Sir Gryme all the answer made.
SIR GRAY-STEEL
145
He said, "Yestreen when he came home,
His tongue was not all from him gone;
He hath me told right all the case,
And how that matter happned was :
A swadrick in a wilderness,
Where that never is near a place,
He wist nothing into his fare,
That their linage it was all there;
And they wist all of his coming,
Thought to slay him, and take his thing;
They rose, and have against him gone,
They were ten, and he was but one :
Not one, but his own steed and he,
And yet he thought not for to flee :
With stout heart, and hardie alswa,
The field he took against all tha :
This may ye wit that he was bold,
He slew seven ere he flee would.
On horse, as he out through them yeed,
He slew then two, and they his steed:
Ere his good spear was broken in two,
Of them he slew well six and mo:
And six into the field he slew
The rest they fled, and they withdrew:
And with that he was wounded so,
N;
600
505
510
515
520
That scarcely he might ride or go.
An horse of theirs then by him stood,
Like to his own, but not so good;
Syne on that he is coming home,
And it right seven days is gone;
And though the deed he sought on him,
It is well sped to all his kin.
And for that worship he went there,
It will be told for evermare."
The Countess mourns for Sir Eger;
Her maidens mourned, and made great care ;
VOL. II.
K
525
630
146
THE HISTORY OF
Sir Pallias, his own brother,
Made more sorrow than any other:
Sir Gryme was nothing of his kin,
But he was als right wo for him
As any sister or as brother,
Eme, or yet ant, or any other:
But it was more than days three,
Or his own love came him to see :
And when she came, she was but drie :
To him she made small courtesie.
When she came to the chamber within,
Little company made to him;
Sir Eger might not one word speak,
535
540
545
Sir Gryme before the bed could sit;
And to Sir Gryme said she then :
CC
Sir, how doth your sore wounded man,
Or how hath he sped in his fare?"
Said, "Not so well as mister were:
So is it hapned as you may see,
Not one forethinks so much as ye."
The lady said, "So have I feel,
550
I might have thol'd he had done weel,
And better sped in his journay."
555
Sir Eger asked where he lay.
Then meekly said the lady free
To Sir Eger, "Now, how do ye?
I rede you be of counsel clean,
Ye will not cose, Sir, as I ween.
I think your love be in no weer,
Therefore I rede you make good chear."
Sir Eger said, "My chear well is,
But even as I may with this,
As before when better hath been,
I will not mend, suppose I mene.
Then said the Lady, "Certes, nay,
It mends not though ye do swa ;
""
560
505
SIR GRAY-STEEL
147
Fortune will not then from you wend,
Nor yet from me, though I should send
But for follie to set at wit,
And so I must then do with it."
She no more tidings did refrain,
But bouned to her chamber again.
Then Sir Gryme stood before the door,
And held the Lady on the floor,
A little while, right by the hand:
Then by his fellow could he stand,
And said to him right courteouslie,
"Sir, this the Lady telleth me,
What makes her biding to delay,
And why she goes so soon away:
She was forbidden by the leech,
And also by her father's speech;
And the first night that ye came hame,
So great a sorrow hath she tane,
That she hath been as sick as ye:
And thus his fellow comforts he.
Eleven weeks, as I heard say,
Sir Eger there in leeching lay;
And seldom came the fair Lady;
•
""
But when she came, she was right dry.
Of her drieness, als her strange fare,
Sir Gryme then said to Sir Eger,
That she durst not otherwise do,
Nor yet in presence come him to:
And on this wise, as with Sir Gryme,
So with the Lady on a time,
On his foot with her would he gang,
Then to his fellow would amang ;
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580
585
590
595
600
And then told him a fernyere's tale,
And this, while thus he wrought all hale,
And to her ladies warrand well
For he was red he should him spill,
148
THE HISTORY OF
And her will had been to him kend,
It should have letten him to mend,
But all was fained each a dele,
Yet, many said, he govern'd weel.
Then after that, upon a day,
He thought the lady to assay.
Then after mass to her he yode,
Into a chamber where she stood,
""
And from her maidens hath her tane,
And to a counsel are they gane.
And first they spake of bourding,
And then they spake of earnest thing:
He said, "Lady, if you would cover
And of a thing that ye do sover,
Belonging both to you and me?
She said, "Say on, whatever it be."
"Yonder is your knight Sir Eger,
And he hath been in travel sair
And hath met with a ferlie thing,
For fault of weapons and arming:
Armour they may be fresh and new,
And yet be false and right untrue,
And that hath made him to beguile,
Give[n] him were within a while,
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610
615
620
625
And great skaith therethrow hath he tane,
But, certes, therein he hath no shame.
030
He is a man, that is well kend,
Hath doughtie hands him to defend,
I cannot treat him for to bide,
Fra time that he may gang or ride;
But he will pass his voyage right,
To seek for battel on the knight:
This hath he made me to you tell,
But ye may treat him here to dwell,
And comfort him in all manner
With your presence and with chear.
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SIR GRAY-STEEL
149
Now sen it stands in such degree,
It longeth more to you than me:
Have ye not chosen him to your p[h]eer?
Your father it likes well but were!".
The Lady mused, and stood still,
Then after made answer him till:
"Sir Gryme, ye wot this many day
For him better I put away;
For I was of such nourishing,
I would have none for no kin' thing;
Neither for riches, nor renown,
For lands' breadth, nor provision ;
But he, that wan with his hands two:
Sir Eger was call'd one of tho;
Called the best when he came hame,
How ever he wrought, such was his name :
In company such name he gat,
How ever he did, such was his hap.
I bade him let his journey be,
Make not this travel all for me :
I said, such field he may come in,
Was as able to tyn or win.
I strake the nail upon the head,
All that he wan, ye may soon sead :
For trust ye me right well, Sir Gryme,
I wist the matter all sensyne:
For the first night that he came home,
I heard your words every each one;
Under your chamber window stood,
And heard your carping, ill and good.
I will not bid him for to bide,
Nor yet him counsel for to ride;
Neither consent I will thereto :
Of his wedding I have no do."
Sir Gryme he said, "I trow he will
But little seeking make you till:
045
650
655
630
665
670
675
150
THE HISTORY OF
And he tells in his coming hame,
That he hath sped a better name,
That is far better of degree:
You love not him, will you love me?"
This he did say into bourding,
But he was sorry for that thing:
Yet sadly in his heart he thought,
To help his fellow, if he moght;
And down he sate into that place,
And then his colour changed was:
For his fellow he was right mov'd,
Behind his back heard him reprov'd.
680
086
The knight rase up, and went his way,
Sir Eger to Sir Gryme can say:
000
Then hath he said to Sir Eger:
"Me think that it then better were,
To seek yon knight, and him expell,
That destroy'd you in battel:
But I trow well, and by your tale,
That had your weapons holden hale,
He had been either tane or slain;
But sen it is against you gane,
For him we must go make some cast,
For to cause fight him at the last.
As with his hand, he had him led,
Though ye be sleeping in your bed,
And that is sooth, so shall you see;
We shall fight him where ever he be.
You rise up in your bed full set,
And put you on your robes full meet,
And at your window stand or go;
Books of Romances shall ye read so,
The whole court will be full fain,
When they see you now up again :
The Earle himself will be full blyth,
For he thinks ye shall have to wife
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SIR GRAY-STEEL
151
Yon young lady, his daughter gent,
But I cannot tell her intent :
Of women I can never traist,
I found them fickle and never fast:
Thus shall ye govern days nine.
Then shall ye rise, when ye think time,
And put upon you all your gear,
As ye would ride, in land of wear:
And take your leave at the knights all,
And at each one, both great and small,
And at the ladies, white as lake,
To your love no countenance make;
Be of few words, and stillarie,
Of countenance see ye be slee:
I force not though that ye so do,
And then turn you again me to.
My steed brought forth, and saddled well,
I bide no more, so have I feel,
Your coat armour then shall I take,
Your basnet and your gloves of plate,
Your knife, your sword, I bid no mare;
And graith you right as you did aire,
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725
730
Your brother's spear-your own was broken; 735
Then this gear when I have gotten,
In faith, I shall no longer bide,
Nor yet shall spur my steeds side;
And though the lady come and see,
Either me turn or else to flee,
If I be in great jeopardie,
Stand ye, and look there after me:
She shall say unto others than,
Sir Eger is no discomfite man :
Yet shall she say, and others ma,
A better journey will he ta."
Sir Eger turned, and said "Nay!
These seven months though here I ly,
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THE HISTORY OF
Shall no man take that deed on hand,
While I myself may ride and stand.
I thank you much, but not for that,
Ye ween I am put far aback;
And ye trust no comfort in me
I shall revenge me, or else die.'
Sir Gryme said to him that time:
"It is not all as you do mean,
And if ye ly seven months there,
Or yet but one, or little mare,
""
Some new tidings that ye will hear ;
The Lady will get her a feer :
For Sir Olyas, I understand,
Will brook the lady and the land;
For since ye lay here, I have seen
A privy message them between ;
She hath heard all his whole intent,
And hath given him her consent:
For trust ye well," then said Sir Gryme,
"She knows the matter all sensyne:
Since the first night that ye came home,
She heard your words every each one,
And by your chamber window stood,
And heard your carping, ill and good.”
Sir Eger says,
"If it be so,
Then wot I well I must forgo
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Love-liking and man-hood all clean.”
775
The water rushed out of his een:
His head he shook, his hands he wrang,
And each hand on another dang:
Sir Gryme then said to him, “Let be,
Ye shall be helped hastily,
780
For here I vow to God of might,
That I shall ride and seek the knight,
Into what land that he in be,
I shall him slay, or else he me ;
SIR GRAY-STEEL
153
And if I chance to win the field,
And get his helm, or yet his shield,
Or any mark of him to see,
785
The lady will think it be ye:
She will say soon, and to your seel,
That she was wood, and would you well."
790
They called to him Sir Pallias,
And told him all the very case,
They show to him both all and some,
They kend full well that he would come;
The man that loves, and als is leel,
795
Is worthiest to keep counsell.
Then after that, upon a day,
Sir Gryme to Sir Eger can say,
"If I should meet with yon Gray-Steel,
I had need to be holden well:
800
And your emes sword, Sir Agam,
These seven winters can it ly:
The lady locks it in a chist,
She thinks it should not come in thrist;
Nor yet be born into the field,
805
While that her son be come to eeld:
Had we it now in borrowing,
It might make us some comforting:
We must now have it, ere we gang,
With other weapons good and strang.”
Sir Gryme is to the lady gone,
810
And said, "Sir Eger is at home,
And hath a journey tane on hand,
With a great knight of a strange land,
And his own good sword hath he broken,
And he hath not another gotten:
815
And prays you for a noble brand,
And take the charters of his land."
"Now trust ye well withoutten weer,
Sir Gryme," she said, "it is right here,
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THE HISTORY OF
Though ye be charg'd, I you assure,
It will not fail, but ay endure ;
And shall stand you into good stead,
While that ye have Gray-Steelis head:
For the first time that it was wrought,
To the king at Forres it was brought,
And seven winters he it bare;
His life-time was but little mare.
826
Then he betaught it to the queen,
And to his son for to be gi'en.
830
And with them dwelled then Sir Gryme,
Was right instant at the making,
While he had made that noble brand,
For there may nothing it gainstand.
836
He may be sure to give a strake,
For it will never bow, nor break;
Teugh as the wax, when it was wrought,
Hard like the flint, and faileth nought,
It was never won by no strength,
Nor yet put back by its own length:
840
What flesh it ever hapneth in,
Either in lyre, or yet in skin,
Whether that were shank or arm,
It shall him do wonder great harm :
There is no fault in any thing,
845
But it was in misgoverning;
For a man of evil guiding
May tine a kinrick and a king:
And I would not, for both our lands,
That it came in other men's hands."
Sir Gryme is from the lady gane,
To Vaclaw, and his leave hath tane;
And, ill-disposed with fainted chear,
Sir Eger hath put on his gear:
Within seven days and seven nights,
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855
On this same wise dealt both the knights;
SIR GRAY-STEEL
155
While on the eight day at the prime,
"Sir Eger," saith now Sir Gryme,
"Wind up, Sir, and on your feet,
And see your gear be good and meet;
Look that ye arm you, and als clean,
As any time that ye have been,
And as warlick as ever ye would,
Ride this day a battel to hold:
Into the hall make your repair,
Of countenance see ye be fair,
Then turn again, and hold you still,
And let me do that which God will:
As for my work, I have no dread,
I trust in God right well to speed."
Sir Eger sighed, and said, “Alace,”
Right well payed Sir Gryme he was,
And said, “I pray you, Sir, let be,
If ye will any help of me:
But with your tongue you may avise
The nearest gate, and where it lyes."
"I shall you tell wonder well,
That ye shall not go wrong a deal :
Ye know the way is for a while
The valley more than thirty mile,
Ye shall be four days, and than,
That ye shall see no kind of man,
Nor nothing but the fowles flyand,
Wilderness and all wasted land:
A river shal ye find at hand,
That runneth straight as any strand;
Though ye never so fast you speed,
Yet two days it shall you lead;
And then shall you see come runnand,
An water on the other hand,
For those two do both run in one;
A riding place there is not one.
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875
880
885
890
156
THE HISTORY OF
Cross the water, the first foord strand,
And hold them both on your left hand;
Then of your way you have no dread,
The salt water it will you lead :
And in the coast of that salt sand,
A great forrest on your right hand;
But yet the wilderness will last,
One day, ride ye never so fast :
Then come ye in the plainest land,
And an alley on every hand;
A fair castle then shall ye see,
Halls and bowres great plenty :
Orchards, harbers, and a fair green,
In that other a lady sheen,
That in fairness may be a flower,
And clearest of all other colour;
She is courteous, and kind of speech,
Ov'r all the rest she may be leech:
Great God, if I had with her bidden,
By this I might have gone or ridden :
My counsel she would have covered,
The which myself hath discovered.
Take ye a small token from me,
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905
910
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There may ye right well eased be;
Her own sark it is best to bear,
And then somewhat else of your gear."
Sir Gryme he said, "It may be ill
Any token to take her till ;
920
For I was loth, so God me sane,
For to be known till I came hame."
Sir Eger says, “It is no skaith,
That she have 'quaintance with us baith,
For she is full of all gentrice,
925
Into her heart hath no fancies:
Will ye behave you cunningly,
Ye may make her trow it is I-
SIR GRAY-STEEL
157
She served me with candle-light;
I came and yeed both in one night—
And make her trow that both is ane."
Sir Gryme the sark hath with him tane,
And twenty pounds in it hath he,
Beeds of gold and broches three;
"And this is over little ware,
If we were purvey'd into mare;
But all without I may not be,
Some part now ye must leave with me.”
Sir Gryme said, "How shall I knaw
The woman that I never saw?"
"I tell to you it wondrous well,
Cannot go wrong, nor miss a deal:
She is large of body and bone,
A fairer saw I never none;
With brows brent, and thereto small,
A drawing voice she speaks withall:
Betwixt her een and eke her neise
There is the greatness of a piese,
A spot of red, the lave is white;
There is none other that is her like:
And so her brows on a running,—
There is a gay ready tokening!
And the bower it stands east and west,
Thereon a weather-cock is prest;
It may be gold, it may be glass,
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I might not see whereof it was;
It might be glass, it might be steel;
But it was bright, it shined weel.”
Sir Eger past into the hall,
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And took his leave at the knights all:
Syne to the Earle kneeled on his knee,
He said, "Sir Eger, now where shape ye?"
He said, "I have meekle ado,
And little beeting gets thereto."
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THE HISTORY OF
The Countess said, “I red you bide,
For neither have you hew nor hide;
I see your countenance is good,
But ye are pale, and ye want blood;
For by your hue it may be seen,
Into such state as ye have been,
Ye will not be this many day;
Therefore, Sir knight, I will you pray,
For any haste you have to fare,
Bide still a while, let blod grow mare."
"Mine hue," he said, "let that alane:
But with yourself in faith, madam,
will not bide, so God me sane,
Farewell, while that I come again."
'He' louted, and could the Countess kiss:
The Earle then took her hand in his,
And at the lady, white as lake,
Right reverently could his leave take:
And his own love, she was therein,
Spake not to her, nor she to him:
For Sir Gryme had to him told,
How he should to the lady hold,
Yet he would not forget repreve.
From all the rest he took his leave;
But that he had something to say,
Ere than the time he went away;
But neither would he beck nor kneel,
Nor lowt, nor yet his head down heel;
But said, "Lady, what will ye mare?"
"God keep you better than he did aire!
You have left a finger into yon land,
Now I am red you leave an hand.”
Displeas'd was many lady bright,
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She gave such answer to the knight :
And so himself he thought great shame,
But answer to her made he nane.
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SIR GRAY-STEEL
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Forth at the door he past her fro,
And to his chamber could he go.
Pallias was true as the steel,
And keeped bidding wonder well,
And at the door receiv'd him in,
But none in after him might win.
Few words then was there them among:
His hand shook, said, "Tarry not long."
Sir Gryme was ready to the rade;
A squyre upon the calsay bade,
And in his hand had holding
A bold steed and well lasting,
Tyed right well with his girths two,
Pallias himself gave him mo;
About his breast he laid a band,
To make the sadle fast on stand:
Great buckle of iron to make it last;
It had great mister to be fast,
For he was red that young Sir Gryme
In his travell he should them time.
His spurrs he keeped not so well,
But his steed's sides he made them feel ;
The steed rebounded from the spurrs,
And rushed rudely through the furze.
The Lady stood, and had good sight,
To see the passing of the knight ;
She might see passing perfectly,
Whether he past in chivalrie,
Or there was any fainying,
Or in his heart discomforting :
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She perceived even, as it was,
With stout heart, and great manliness,
His spear, his shield, his helm of steel,
His steed he governed right well,
And was as fresh as any lyoun;
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He and his horse rode off the town.
i
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THE HISTORY OF
The Lady marvell'd greatumly,
That he past into such degree :
Whatever she thought, nought she said,
But on the knight small sturt she made; 1040
And to the chamber could she pass,
Where both the knights their biding was:
The doors were closed, and put to,
The lady chapped, and made undo :
He received in that young lady,
And hailsed her right courteously.
Then Pallias a cod can fang,
And in a chair he it down flang,
And made the lady preserving,
Of all easement, and down sitting:
And she said, "Nay," and walked by,
To the bed where he wont to ly:
She thought to have him lying there,
But in the bed was not Sir Eger.
The window closed to hide the light,
That she of him might get no sight;
The curtains they were all drawn in,
That on no wise they might be seen.
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She drew the curtains and stood within,
And all amazed spake to him:
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Then meened to him [of] his distress,
Heart or the head, whether it was?
And his sickness, less or mare;
And then talked of Sir Eger:
And said to him, "Where have I been,
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Where the knights passing I have seen!
And I do think, by my knowledge,
He was as like in his visage,
For to do well, and thereto speed,
As any journey that ever he yeed;
But he hath made a fair showing,
And in his heart great comforting."
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So lovingly to him she spake ;
But soon after she fell a-back,
And said, "It was no mastery,
Where three comes against a party :
But when there is a knight for knight,
They must do more to try a right
Knight for knight, and steed for steed,
Then to do well were all the need.
There is no better company,
Nor one to meet allenerly.
This tale I tell by Sir Eger,
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That he made in his travel aire,
Whereto should he seek aventures?
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In armies he hath tint his armours!"
"Not so, but he was overcome,
In bushment, lying waiting him;
And all they brake at Sir Eger:
But them then he did not fear;
But right stoutly he did them byde;
And all that hapned in that tide :
Ere any of them to him wan,
There he slew an hie-kinned man :
When he is felled on the ground,
And through the shield hath got a wound,
A north-land knight full dughty
Rescued him with company :
There was but he and other ten,
And they were twenty hie-kinned men ;
And then were twenty tane and slain,
Thus Sir Eger [was] rescued again.
They brought Sir Eger to the king
With meekle mirth and magnifying :
They proffered him for his voyage
The King's sister in marriage:
And he sighed, and would not have,
And followed always on the lave:
VOL. II.
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THE HISTORY OF
I say not, Lady, your tale to peach;
But, if I could, I would you teach,
There should no man then it unlove,
Say that it was his own reprove."
Pallias said to that Lady
But fair words, and right tenderlie.
When he had said all that he would,
The knight said with steven full bold:
"Sick that I am and wonder sore,
And for my fellow moved more,
That now is past in such degree,
And I wite none, Lady, but ye :
While I hear word of him again,
Whether he slayes or bee slain,
No more of my collation hold."
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The lady went where that she would:
But they bode in their chamber still,
At leasure and at their own will.
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Now we will let them all alone,
Carp of Sir Gryme that forth is gone.
He countered in the west-land,
Beyond the fell, the water fand,
And followed [it] as he was bidden,
And to the forrest he is ridden,
And passed it in days three,
That they said fifteen it should be;
And then he saw a tokening:
A reek did rise, and a gladning:
He saw before him on the way
A yeoman ride on an hacknay,
Entring in at the forrest side;
He call'd on him, and bade him bide :
The yeoman hoved, and stood still,
And said, “Sir, what is your will?”
He said, "Fellow, thou tell to me,
Who is the Lord of this countrie:
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SIR GRAY-STEEL
163
"}
Whether that he is old or ying,
Or who hath it in governing?
The yeoman said, "I understand
He is an Earle that owes this land:
They do call him Earle Gorius,
And hath none heir but Lillias."
"Is she a widow, then?" said he.
"She is a maiden certainlie.
Sir Alistoun, that gentle knight,
She and he else hath their troth plight:
The Earle, that heght Sir Garrentine,
Was slain by Gray-Steel on a time;
And for Sir Garrentine his head
Sir Alistoun had him at fead ;
And so he thought him to have won,
But sped as ill as others have done."
The yeoman said, "I understand
That ye are unknown in this land;
The Earle is fair-calling and free,
And there ye may well-eased be:
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There may ye have right good gaistning, 1165
If that ye will make sojourning."
The knight he said all these words syne,
"How farre is't to the castle hyne?".
"But miles three, it is no mo,
With you I shall ride of them two.”
The yeoman rode forth with the knight,
While of the castle he got sight;
Syne took his leave, and from him rade,
The knight to him great thanks he made.
He waled an inne into the town,
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Before the gate he lighted down;
And there they came to him on hie,
Great gentle men and squyarie;
And from him they took his good steed,
And to his stable could him lead,
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THE HISTORY OF
To hecks full of corn and hay,
And other horse[s] were led away.
The master [of] houshold was therein,
And he betaught them unto him,
Both his good horse and his armour,
And all that fell to his honour.
And he from him took them on hand;
And said, that he should them warrand,
And proffer'd him a squyarie,
To go with him in company.
But he said, Nay, he needed none,
But raiked forth, his way is gone;
And when he came the town without,
He looked then him round about,
Orchards, harbers, and alleys green :
The weather-cock stood fair and sheen,
The bower in same, as he me told;
He was of all his tokens bold,
He had gone right and nothing wrong,
Joyfull in heart was he among.
He thought if he might get a sight
Of the lady both fair and bright,
He would think the better to speed,
In any journey where he yeed.
He stood a while, such hap he had,
He saw the lady, and was glad,
Coming was with a damosell;
He perceived wonder well,
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It was the same lady he sought,
By all the tokens, and failed nought :
He raiked to the fair lady,
And hailsed her right courteously,
And in his visage could he mean
As he had done before her seen.
But she did know him in nothing,
Neither did he her, but faining,
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And he seemed a courteous knight,
Of any that came in her sight.
Reverently she made him state,
But quantance none other they wate:
Then hastilie he could out draw
His sark of silk; and could it shaw,
And costlie jewels alswa but miss.
(C
1220
Sir," then she said, "so have you bliss!
How fares the knight that did send this?" 1225
He sayes, "Lady, I do not lane,
""
He that it bure, brought it again.
Then blythly on him could she look,
Courteously to him could she mute,
And swore by Jesus, Heaven's king,
"I am right glad of your coming!
And certainly, by God's grace,
Have ye gotten ought at this place,
Or any thing that could you bet,
">
I would think that it were right fit."
Then sayes he, "Here was a bet,
Which I think never to forget!
Wherefore to you I make livring
Of my life, and no other thing.
Then courteously she spake to him,
And to his gaistning bade him come.
He said, "Lady, my inne is tane,
And squyers with me are mo than ane ;
I bade the ostler certainlie
To purvey both for them and me."
He would be glad, if that he might,
Have been out of the lady's sight,
For he was dreading for kenning;
He would have been out of feeling :
He could not get away so soon,
As mister was for to have done :
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THE HISTORY OF
His fellow's visage it was fair,
But he was hurt under the hair;
A courcher over it was drawn,
To let it for to be unknawn;
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An oyntment over the skin he drew,
To make the hide another hew;
He did work wisely in that case,
But in some things he was rackless.
Talking as she then by him stood,
For to see if his hands were good,
She took the glove as she could stand,
And turned them down over his hand :
Syne when she saw his hands bare,
And all his fingers standing there,
She perceived that it was not he,
And kindly carping she let be:
And dryly to him could she speak,
"Where is the knight that lay here seke ?"__
He said, "Lady, as ye may see.”
Yet did she say, "That might well be!
What farlie though he was long home!
For here such leeching there was none!
There is no leech in all the land,
Can put a finger to an hand!
The finger that he left in wed,
There is another in its stead,
As fair, as whole and as clean,
As ever it was or yet has been !-
Ye should not, sir, in a strange land
Mock, or yet be over-bourdand;
But if ye will with bourding dale,
Right cleanly then ye should them wale:
Your bourding could I well consider,
But scorn and heeding goes togider.
Yet never allowed will ye be,
Not in no good company.
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SIR GRAY-STEEL
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Sir, if that ye was hither sent,
And to scorn me in your intent,
Ye shall not be but scorn'd of me,
And ere ye pass off this countrie.'
First she was both right mild and meek,
Kind and courteous for to speak;
Then waxt she angry, and so hate,
And all into another state:
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The jewels that the knight had brought 1295
The lady set them all at nought;
Down at his feet she let them fall,
And wrathfully turned her withall.
And to her chamber bowned her to gang;
The knight his hands in her's could fang. 1300
She shoot hir hands, and bade, "Let go,”
But he to hold: she would not so:
"I pray you, lady, of your grace,
Your meekness and your soberness,
Let not your will over-gang your wit,
While ye be advised with it,
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Whether there be cause or none;
And that there be cause, I am to blame,
Hear me a point that I shall shaw,
There God to borrowe I draw,
But I shall tell you all the ground,
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The which all sooth it shall be found."
What through prayer, and als through thrate,
She stood and heard what the knight spake,
And then Sir Gryme his tale began,
And shew her forth the matter than :
"The knight that was here is my brother,
And I am elder than the other.
A journey I must take for him,
Whether that I must tine or win;
He hath a lustie love at home,
Love nor husband she would have none,

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THE HISTORY OF
But he that ever in arms wan;
And the first time that he began,
Is tint now, and that she wate,
And draws aback and makes debate;
And he loves her in such degree,
Without her love he may not be.
But he will wed her to his wife,
Or tine his honour and his life.
And I would gladly, if I might,
Be acquainted with the same knight,
And see if he would be my brother,
Send him on wed for another;
And will he not, by Heaven's king,
Then shall men carp of our parting.
And so must I now honour win,
In any land that I come in.
Or ever in arms win the gree,
I have told you the verity."
The lady stood and her bethought,
For to reprove him would she nought;
"This is a seemly knight to see,
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And carps most courteously to me.
Am I his tale for to impele?
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I wot not but it may be lele,
Then it were great reproof to me;
I shall allow it, however it be.”
This was her thought into the time,
As she told after to Sir Gryme.

t
Si, then," she said, "I can well trow,
Your tale is good, and I allow,
For such points ye would not shaw,
Nor charge your manhood for to draw.
And ye shall bide all night with me;
Will ye have twa, or will ye three:
I would ye had your pith right weel,
Ere that ye met with Sir Gray-Steel.”
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She caused a boy full soon him speed,
Where that the knight had left his steed; 1360
A piece of gold with him she send,
The knight his cost for to amend ;
A royall supper there was dight
To the lady and to the knight :
The meat and drink was not to spare,
All good easments then he had there.
Then after supper could she say,
To comfort him in his journey:
"If that ye will go to Gray-Steel,
I trow to God ye shall do weel:
And if that ye do win the gree,
It is but fortune, and not ye;
And fra fortune against him rin,
There is no more defence in him.
And there is none other the whilk,
I trow to God ye be that ilk.
If ye have hap the knight to slay,
I trow to God ye shall do swa.
There is nothing in all this land,
That shall be holden from your hand;
And, namely, that belongs to me,
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So that mine honour saved be.
He slew my brother, my father's heir,
Als mine own love, and that was mare!
And sensyne I was never aye
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Into good likeing half a day."
And when she spake of her lemman,
The water over her cheek soon ran.-
Sir Gryme beheld the lady free,
His heart wrought bold and held on hie, 1390
And trow'd if he might slay the knight,
Then might he win the lady bright.
So spake the Lady and Sir Gryme,
While that it was right good bed-time;
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THE HISTORY OF
And thus they talked, and they spake,
Syne spices and the wine they take;
And to a bed then they him brought,
For to get sleep, if that he mought:
But he thought never night so lang.
While day come that the fowles sang,
He was riseing and soon on steer;
The lady heard where she was near,
She caus'd two maidens bear him light,
And courteously did serve the knight
With baken meat and spices hate,
To strength the knight in his estate.
Carved his meat, and to him share,
While he was full, and would no mare.
When he was ready for to pass,
The lady said, that by him was,
"Sir Gryme! ah, knight of aventure!
In press think on your paramour :
I will not bid you look on me,
Think on your love, wherever she be,
And on your friends that are at hame,
And on your gasting ye have tane;
And here your supper shall be dight,-
I think ye shall be here all night.
Think not Gray-Steel, albeit he would,
Shall hinder you your trust to hold."
He said, "Lady, so God me reed,
And if you would, he shall not speed!
I have more dread he will not come,
Than I have of his mother's son."-
"Then certes," said the lady fair,
"Trust ye right well he will be there!
Trust in the field he will be seen,
By ye have ridden over the green."
She caus'd a boy out with him gang,
A wine bottle with him could fang,
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Unto the town then they both yeed,
Where that the knight had left his steed.
They found him in a good apply,
Both hay and corn and bread him by ;
The ostler he could thanking make,
And bade him more than he would take ;
The ostler saw him bown to fare,
Saddled his horse, and made him yare.
A spear that was both great and lang,
A squyer he brought it him to fang;
Women weeped sore for the knight,
When he passed out of their sight:
They trow'd that he would be in that stead,
Where many men had left their head.
Ere it was mid-morn of the day,
He came where that the place did lay,
Which was called the land of Doubt ;
A forrest lying round about:
In Roman stories who will read,
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Two miles of length and two of breadth; 1450
He saw nothing in that steed,
But great felloun down deer and reed;
He saw beside him on an hight
A fair castle with towers wight;
A deep river, both long and brade,
Was never one that over it rade,
That had not Sir Gray-Steel his leave,
That came again without repreave:
Sir Gryme he looked not to that,
But sought a foord, and that he gat.
When he was on the other side,
Then fair and hulie could he ride:
He rode the two part of the land,
And nothing found he there steerand.
He lighted on his feet, and stood,
To ease his horse and do him good:
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THE HISTORY OF
His spear he sticked, it was so lang,
His shield upon his sadle hang:
Syne drank of wine, and made good chear,
Then thought he on the lady clear:
1470
And then he would no longer bide,
But near the castle can he ride:
For he was so red that the knight
Should not comen before the night;
But yet he needed not do so,
For Gray-Steel he had watches two:
The one of them could to him ride,
And said, “Upon your field doth bide
A ventrous knight upon a steed,
And he is biding you indeed;
And hath over-ridden all the plain ;
He hath now turned him again."
Gray-Steel then said, "Let him alone !
This half-a-year hath not gone one,
But either he should fight or flee,
Or else a token leave with me."
The yeoman that the tidings brought,
Said privily, "That would be nought :
Thereon now dare I lay my life,
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1490
Ere that he flee there shall be strife."
They brought Gray-Steel then forth a steed,
Dressed him syne, and thither yeed.
Sir Gryme was standing all alone,
Counsel to take he had not one :
He heard beside him at his hand,
As it were great horsemen ridand;
He wont there had been mo than one,
Looked, and saw but him alone!
A ventrous knight full hardilie,
Came dressed soon and readily;
His gear was red as any blood,
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His horse of that same hew he stood:
SIR GRAY-STEEL
173
And fra Sir Gryme of him got sight,
He trowed well it was the knight,
Defoul'd his brother Sir Eger;
Then waxt he brim as any bare;
His spear before him could he fang,
Suppose it was both great and lang;
And called right fast at Sir Gray-Steel;
Behind of it left never a deal,
And Gray-Steel called at Sir Gryme.
As wood lyouns they wrought that time!
The horse together they have set;
They missed not, but ever met.
Sir Gryme hath stricken his enemie
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Through courch and shield right twenty ply,
Through habergeoun and actoun under,
And clave the sheild all in sunder;
And he got never such a strake,
Nor yet there might be few the make.
But he that did the dint lay on,
1520
He left no vengeance to the son;
For through the sheild he did him bare,
Through vental and through foreshare,
And so again through the actoun,
Through birnie and through habergeoun.
The tees of the sadle down yeed,
Or else he had born down his steed;
And als in two he clave his sheild,
And bure him quite out of the field.
Wide open he lay on his back,
But soon upon his feet he gat,
And drew his sword, and thought to stand,
And then Gray-Steel came at his hand.
He might perceive then well Gray-Steel,
So be Sir Gryme right wonder weel:
By his body and by his red,
And by the countenance he made,
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THE HISTORY OF
And by his course that he did run,
That lightly he might not be won.
On horse he would no more sailyit,
On foot he thought not for to failyit;
He drew his sword, and to him ran,
Sir Gryme bure him off like a man.
In old stories, he heard say,
That both in earnest and in play
It were better who might it hint,
Get the first strake, nor the last dint.
Into his youth he learned had,
Most craftily to weild his blade:
Of acward strokes he was richt slee,
Of counter-casts, both low and hie:
Sir Gryme thought not for all the haste,
The first strake in vain to waste;
An acward stroak with all his pith,
He strake him while he groaned with;
Such a great dint he hath him tane,
It prest the birnie through the bane:
The sword out through the mantle share,
Gray-Steel was wounded very sare;
And such two stroaks in all his time,
Gat he never as gave Sir Gryme.
To failie he had little thought,
He sought revenge if that he mought;
And he hath quite him with another,
That might have been that straks brother:
He then upon his shoulder bane
Such a sore dint he hath him tane;
The strake was of so great renown,
He failied force, and settled down:
On that side he had lost his brand,
Had he not kept the other hand;
Might Gray-Steel have had in that time,
And set another on Sir Gryme,
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SIR GRAY-STEEL
175
I trow he had not all that night
Come again in the lady's sight.
They strake this wise an hour and mare,
But not so fast as they did aire :
An hour and mare this wise they dang,
But never a word was them amang;
But their stiff swords, both bein and stout;
While harness dang the edges out;
Bodies they made both black and bla,
Like wood lyouns so fought they twa !
What for fighting and blood he bled,
Gray-Steel was never so hard be-sted;
And that perceivéd well Sir Gryme!
He hasted him in full good time,
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And said, "Now yield thee now, Gray-Steel,
Or thou shalt never do so weel."
Then lightly said he, "Thou shalt lie,
For to-morn thou shalt never see."
Gray-Steel was grievéd at that word;
With both his hands he hint his sword,
And all the strength that he had lee'd,
He set upon Sir Grahame his head:
He came never in such a thrist,
At both his ears the blood out brist :
He staggered on his feet, and stood,
Grievéd he was, and full of mood.
Sir Gryme then with a noble brand
1595
1600
He strake on him with both his hand
Under the gorget got a girth,
And followed fast thereon with pith,
Quite thorow the throat soon did slide,
And made a wound both deep and wide:
So wight in world was never none !
But where two meet them alone,
And depart without company,
One must win the victorie.
1605
1610
176
THE HISTORY OF
Gray-Steel unto his death thus thrawes;
He walters, and the grass updrawes ;
His armes about him could he cast,
He pulled herbes and roots fast:
A little while then lay he still,
Friends that him saw liked full ill,
And blood into his armour bright,
For so he had full many dight.
1615
1620
1625
In world there is no bale nor bliss,
Or whatsoever that it is,
But at the last it will overgang,
Suppose that many think it lang:
This tale I tell by Sir Gray-Steel,
That fortune long had led him weel;
While that he sembled with a knight,
That for his fellow came to fight.
Now hath Sir Gryme done this good deed;
He looked where he left his steed;
The steeds together have they run,
Fighting as they had first begun.
Sir Gryme raik'd to them full right;
He took them by the bridles bright,
Stabled them soon, and made them stand;
The wine bottle he took in hand,
1630
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1640
He set it to his head and drank,
And said, "The lady 'serveth thank,
For there was neither aile nor wine,
That came to me in so good time."
And then he came right soon again,
Where that the knight was lying slain;
And then his right hand off he took,
Syne in a glove of plate it shook :
The helms he might not turse them baith,
But to choose he thought no skaith ;
And so they might have gain'd him weel: 1645
The one was gold, the other steel,
SIR GRAY-STEEL
177
The better helm then he it took
The hand within the glove he shook;
The shields he knat together fast,
And over the sadle could them cast;
Syne lap upon his fair red steed,
His own into his hand could lead,
And thereon he rade fair and hulie;
And from the castle came a skry :
Men did he see both gang and rin,
To horse and weapons that might win :
Ladys weeped right wonder sair,
Rave all their courches and their hair,
(Who oft times had been blyth and glad.)
Bloody steeds when he them made:
For it was Gray-Steel his arming,
His death should be no challenging.
As then to them they spake right nought,
Few words they said, but many thought.
It was well far within the night,
And yet, for all the haste he might,
Ere that he came into the steed,
Many one said the knight was dead!
A boy came ganging to the door,
Syne turned in upon the floor,
And said, "This is the samine knight,
That rode away when day was light,
And the steed he rode on his red,
I trow that Sir Gray-Steel be dead !
For such tokens came never again,
But he was either tane or slain.
And soon they came to him again,
Great gentle men and squyarie."
Then to the ostler said the host,
"Dress well the steeds, spare not for cost,
Bed ye them well, and lay them soft;
VOL. II.
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1670
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1881
178
THE HISTORY OF
Give to them meat, that they want nought,
And what costs that ye do to tha,
I shall it double and mends ma.”
They set a chair then to the knight,
And off they took his helm so bright:
The helm of gold it was so gay,
1685
For it had been in hard assay,
And stalwart straikes on it was stricken;
With great knowledge it was written,
For doughtie hands made it to fail,
Had fourty straiks in it by tale.
An hundred straikes withoutten mo,
Was stricken in hardness also;
And they were of so great degree,
That it was wonder for to see,
How any man might strick so fast,
On weapons dure, and ever last;
1690
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Or lives could save that was then under:
Of that good knight they had great wonder!
But other things he had in thought,
What'er he thought, he spake right nought;
His journey was not brought to end,
And he was loath for to be kend.
He had rather his fellow at hame,
Had the worship and als the name.
Then to the burgess can he say,
"Good sir, one thing I would you pray,
That ye would speed one thing by you."
The burgess said, "Will ye me trow,
What ever it be you show me till,
It shall be done at your own will."
He said, "I harbered this last night
With a good lord, the gentlest knight;
This day at morn I from him yeed,
I heght, if fortune with me stood,
That I should be this night again;
1705
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1716
SIR GRAY-STEEL
179
And I would keep my tryst right fain!
Als I wot not but yon knights keen,
May stabled be where mine horse been; 1720
And they will have some watch or spy,
Where that I bide, or where I ly:
If I do ly into plain land,
And there a castle at mine hand,
Where that I may received be,
And ought but good should happen me,
It were too great reprove and shame
To be discovered by my name.
And I would fain be at the knight,
Or his daughter, the lady bright;
Of leeching craft she is right slee,
I have great need of one to me!
Into great peril am I nought,
But I am sore, and all forfought!
I pray you ye will with me gang,
Yon helm and sheild ye with you fang."
The helm and sheild he took him till,
And went the way before him still.
1725
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When they came to the bower and door,
There was no light upon the floor:
A folding boord was covered,
1735
1740
And with white cloths laid upon it:
Their supper dight, and to them brought,
The lady sat and ate right nought,
And neither would she eat or drink,
1745
But ever on the knight did think ;
Nor to her maidens would she speak,
But sat so sad as maiden meek.
A long while she sat in study;
And then she said right suddenly:
"He that supper for is dight,
He lyes full cold I trow this night!
Thestreen to chamber I him led,
1750
180
THE HISTORY OF
This night Gray-Steel has made his bed!
It is great loss that he was sent
Upon Gray-Steel for to be spent ;
For he was large of lyre and bone,
And nourishing he wanted none.
And I know well by his own tale,
That he hath wrought without counsel,
His friends they may be right unfain,
When that the word is to them gane,
That such a tinsel they should tine;
For so would I if he were mine!
As of my brother or my kine,
Or any quaintance had of him ;
Me sore forethinks that the good knight
Persued ever in my sight."
This did she say, and sighed sare,
And then sate still, and spake no mare:
The knight heard all where that he stood,
And thought the lady meaned good.
Then to the burgess can he rown,
And bade him speak in fair fashioun :
The burgess call'd and to them spake,
The maiden answered, “Who is that?”
Because he was no man of state,
She says,
"What do ye here so late?"
The burgess said, "I would be in."
The maiden said, "Ye may not win.
We close the door before the night,
And open not while day be light.
The keys unto the boord are born,
1755
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1766
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1780
We see them not till the next morn;
If ye would ought, go gang about,
1786
Or stand and shew your charge without:
To gang about there is no gate;
But first in at the Castle yate,
Syne through a wicket there withall,
SIR GRAY-STEEL
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Ere any come to the maids hall.”
The burgess knew the gate full well,
And said, "Faith now, ye damosel,
Ere I should go so far about,
I will you tell my charge without :
If ye will not let me in,
Here is a token then from him,
Which was given the samen night,
The wine bottle she gave the knight;
I will that she should understand,
I have it here into mine hand.
A thing that she then to him spake,
But he and she none should have that ;
She said, "Ye knight of aventure,
In press think on your paramour!"
The lady said, "So have I feel,
I know the token wonder well,
And if he be at inn with thee,
And likes better than come to me,
Let him alone, with Christ's blissing,
For he shall have no send of mine."
The knight was red he should her grieve,
And then he forethought without leave;
That he should on such matter mean,
That they had spoken them between.
He thought, and the fairlie he said,
And of her gaisting thanking maid.
He said, "Lady, it was so late,
And I was not kend with[in] the gate;
And for doubt I should gang aside,
This made me for to have a guide.
Fra time she heard that he was there,
Better content she was nor aire :
There was no keyes there him to let,
The door unclosed, wide open set;
And he came in right blythlie,
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1820
1825
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THE HISTORY OF
She him received right thankfullie
With right blyth chear and mouth laughand,
She took him in by the right hand,
And asked at him how he had farn?
66
Well," did he say, "and sped my yarn: 1830
To the token I have been there,
The helm and sheild that he did bear,
And his red steed of great renown,
His gilt sadle is in the town:
Another thing to mend your cheer :
His right hand glove is sent you here:
Lady, perceive now, as ye stand,
That in the glove there is an hand."
Then took she it right courteously,
Syne gave it to the maiden by:
The maiden hath perceived soon,
The glove was heavie, and not toom;
And for to look she thought reason,
Opened the glove, the hand fell down;
It dropped at the lady's foot,
The lady could upon it look;
1835
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1845
She was joyfull for the knight's dead;
The hand was griesly for to sead:
She knew that hand came from the glove,
Had slain her brother and her love.
Such old malice made her to mean;
1850
She waxed cold, and syne to teen ;
Her hew it changed pale and wan.
The knight he well perceived than,
That the lady was in distress,
And he thought ferly what it was:
He said, "Lady, why do ye so?
I thought this had been one of tho,
For ye desired for to see,
1855
And ye heght some reward to me;
1860
And I have brought them in your sight,
SIR GRAY-STEEL
183
Through grace of God and of his might!
And ever I had mind of you,
1865
The land of Doubt when I rode throw !
All that I heght have ye not dread."
"But, Sir," she said, "ye shall come speed.
It shall be holden, and well mare,
Ere that ye pass off this country fare;
Ye might have letten such go by;
What needs you to be so hasty?'
Then to the burgess can she speak;
She bade him wash, and go to meat.
The burgess said, "I will go home,
My menyie are biding each one.”
""
1870
They brought the burgess bread and wine; 1875
When he had drunk, took his leave syne;
They closed the door soon at his back,
And off the knight his gear can take.
The lady was leech, and had skill,
And spared not, but laid him till,
Both for the stang and for the stound,
And also for his bloody wound;
She handled him as tenderly,
As she had been his own lady :
With handling of the lady bright
Swat sore so then the noble knight,
That she beloved to try his will:
"Ye have my truth, now there intill ;
And in the bower while I do bide,
For any thing that may betide,
I shall be at your bidding hail,
And govern me at your counsel;
While ye be come to your estate,
Whereto will ye make now debate?
For I heght you this hinder night,
If ye had hap to slay the knight,
And force of fortune with you stood,
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1895
184
THE HISTORY OF
Then neither gold, nor yet should good,
Nor nobleness, nor yet treasures,
Or ought was mine, but it was yours.
But a fair tale it may be shown,
Another in the heart be known!
Falset is ay a fained friend,
And cometh ay at the last end!
But I trust well to Heaven's King,
I loved you above all thing.
Doubtless I may not be put back,
And in lawtie there is no lack:
And, since I know your doughty deed,
How ye have put yourself in dreed,
Through hardiness of heart and hand,
Ye hurt him so he might not stand.
The worst that ever rade or yeed,
1900
1905
1910
Through your counsel may think to speed!
Your lawtie is above all other,
1915
That ye had rather give your brother
All the worship, and als the name,
That lyes into his bed at hame."
The Lady said, "By Heaven's King,
Me marvels of your governing!
That ye should pass off this countrie,
1920
And make your 'quantance but with me.
If ye do so into this land,
My friends they would do on each hand,
And fairly wonder greatsumly,
1925
For what ferlie it were, and why,
That ye should have my love so well,
Because your brother slew Gray-Steel!—
Yea, do my counsel ere ye go,
You shall acquaint you with some mo;
1930
My father is a man of might,
Gentle and free to every knight;
When that he was in his youth age,
SIR GRAY-STEEL
185
He was a man of stout courage,
Forthy and forward in the field;
But he is now bouden with eild,
That he may not in his own feer
Busk, nor yet ride in land of weer:
But he is wise, and gentle free,
A kinder shall ye never see !
Fast and sicker of his tongue
Both to the old, and eke the young:
Fra he hath known your worthy deed,
How ye have put yourself in dreed,
How worthily that ye have won,
And ye but young, and new begun,
He will reward you, ere ye pass,
Of reason, what ye will him as':
Whether ye would have gold or land.”
1935
1040
1915
The Knight said, "Nothing but your hand.” 1959
แ
Yea, then," she says, "it may well be;
If it be so, so it likes me!
For he that hath my marriage,
Shall have my father's heritage;
An hundred pound he may well spend
Of pennie meal, each year to end;
Withoutten wards or relesies,
Great lords hold of him all their chiefs;
Earles and bishops, and als barrouns,
And many royal Borrow towns:
Yea, and I shall have such gentrice!
And work all whole at my device,
Ye put upon you all your gear,
As ye should ride in fair of weer ;
And in a chair ye set you down;
And my maidens, in their fashioun,
Shall stand, and make you comforting;
And serve you both with spice and wine :
And be you blyth, and make good chear!
1955
1960
1955
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THE HISTORY OF
""
I will go bring my father here,
And my dear mother the Countess,
And shew to them of all the case;
To me and my mother, us two,
I shall not kyth you to no mo.
Be that the Earle into the hall
Had supped, and his knights all;
They went in royalty to sing:
The Earle bethought him on a thing,
How this young lord, Sir Garrentine,
In arms that was both fresh and fine,
Was brought to dead upon a bier!
Soon after that, within a half-year,
Sir Alistoun, that gentle knight,
Who should have had the lady bright;
And fra the time he caus'd her dy,
That was both might and als manly:
For great man-hood and als nurtour,
He might have been an emperour!
He had an host in governing,
1970
1975
1980
1985
But Gray-Steel had such chance given;
In world was never none so good,
1000
Had strength that yet against him stood.-
When that came to the Earle's thought,
He left his play, and held it nought,
And in the chamber walkt a space.-
In came the Lady, fair of face,
With laughing mouth and lovesome chear:
He said, "Welcome, my daughter dear!
The comforter of all my care,
Sen he is dead that was my fare!
Mine heart is bound, and also broken,
I am full wo while I be wroken!"
The Lady said to him again,
'Sir, he that slayes, he will be slain!
1005
2000
Therefore be blyth, and make good chear, 2005
SIR GRAY-STEEL
187
For I am come with tydings here,
To comfort you, and make you glad,
That ye would passing fain have had!
A man may covet many a year
That may right hastily appear,
And he may soon have all his will;
That felloun freek, that was so fell,
He lyes low, and is right cold,
That right redoubted was and bold;
And the right ablest in his gear,
That ever rade with shield and spear!
His helm of gold, that was so bright,
It stands at my bed-side this night;
And the hand liggs upon my bed,
That hath tane many wrongous wed."
The Earl asked, "Who did the deed?
The Lady said, "So God me speed,
It is a quarter of a year,
Sen that time that a knight came here,
""
2010
2015
2020
Right sore wounded with sword and knife, 2025
Scantly was left in him his life :
Yet I perceived by his affeer,
He was a ventrous knight of weer;
And he had met with Sir Gray-Steel,
As many did, and he might feel:
When I had seen that of the Knight,
I held him in my bower all night,
Dispoyled him of all his gear,
Then the most wound that did him dear,
My stones of vertue stemmed the blood;
I made him salves both fine and good,
They softed him, and made him sleep,
And laid him down, and could him keep;
And in the dawning of the day,
He bowned him, and made his way.
Fra that he would no longer bide,
2030
2035
2040
188
THE HISTORY OF
Another salve to him I made,
That lasted him a day or two;
i
A sark of silk I gave him to :—
It is a quarter of a year,
Sen that time that the knight came here;
""
""
I heard him say, that came him fro,
That he might neither ride nor go.
The Earl said to the Lady bright,
"When heard ye tidings of the knight?
"From him thestreen there came another,
And he is the samine knight's brother,
Came raiking to me, where I stood,
And brought me tidings fair and good :
Then hastily he shew to me
Beads of gold and broches three,
The sark that I gave to the knight,
And twenty pounds of pennies bright:
Then, he said gladly if I might,
I would be quanted with the knight.
And courteously he asked tythance,
If that of him I had quantance.
And when I asked after the knight,
He said to me, by Mary bright,
He lyes at home into my bed,
Right as I were with sickness led,—
Kept in secret, and quietlie;
And I am come in this countrie,
To see if he will be my brother,
Send him one wed for another:
And will he not, by Heaven's King,
There shall men carp of our meeting!
And I have credance of the knight,
And held him in my bower all night;
And in the dawning of the day
He bowned him to his journey;
And right now is he come again,
2045
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2055
2000
2065
2070
2075
SIR GRAY-STEEL
189
And brought me word the knight is slain !
And that made me this time come here,
To comfort you, and make good chear!
Now make your quantance with the knight,
For he will ride ere day be light."
The Earle he would no longer stand,
But took the Countess by the hand;
The Lady was as white as swan,
Before them to the bowr is gane.
The Knight before the chimney stood
2030
2085
With right blyth countenance and good;
He took his helm into his hand,
Hailsed the Earl right reverand :
The Lady brought the shield to see,
The Earle then kneeled on his knee,
Thanking the God of Heaven's King,
And to the Knight attour all thing,-
"On you be worship and honour!
Of Fortune you have won the flower,
So doughtily as ye have sailyed,
And that many thereof have failyed;
Therefore to God a gift I give
Everlasting! that, while I live,
">
It shall be yours ought that is mine."
The Lady made the Knight a sygne;
The Knight kneeled full courteouslie,
And said, "Then, Lord, this young lady
I will now ask her for my wage,
And have her into marriage.
The Countess said, "Methinks it right
To give the maiden to the Knight,
For his worship and his bounty,
Give him the maid for honestie."
The Earl said, "If her own consent
Be to the knight with good intent,
Then needs not any mo witness.
2090
2005
2100
2105
110
190
THE HISTORY OF
None but the Earl and the Countess,
And two maidens, right mild of mood!
Against their wills, but for their good.
The Earle he would no longer stand,
But took his helm in his right hand :
Then he shewed it into the hall,
Into the court among them all;
And they did know it wonder weel
To be the helm of Sir Gray-Steel ;-
Keeped the forrest and the green,
And many times did it maintain.
2115
2120
A knight asked "Who hath him slain?" 2125
The Earle he said to him again,
A courteous knight hath won the field,
And brought the helm home and the shield;
Hath left them with my daughter dear,
At her own fang, in her harbeir :
And he is past in his own land,
And tane the glove and the right hand.”
They prayed all to Saint Gregory
To send the knight good harberie.
Then seven days that gentle Knight
Was lodged with the Lady bright;
And all easements he had there,
That might serve for his own welfare.
He warn'd the burgess on the morn,
Bid bring the two steeds him beforn,
And have them ready ere the day,
He would make no longer delay :
But he would pass in his own land,
2130
2135
2140
With helm and glove, shield, and the
hand.
He takes his leave with lovesome chear 2146
Syne at the Lady fair and clear,–
Farewell, my love and my liking!
I leave mine heart in your keeping!
SIR GRAY-STEEL
191
The Lady said, "Ye shall not tine,
If I have yours, ye shall have mine !"
The burges rade forth with the knight,
While he might see to ride full right,
Through all the countrey but a guide,
And left him at the forrest side.
2150
He spur'd the steeds, and did not spare, 2155
And rade out fourty miles, and mare :
While that it drew toward the night,
The passage lay out over an hight;
He would not take the fell so late,
So far he came another gate.
A burges had been at the fare,
In merchandise selling his wair,
A yeoman riding at his back,
A little boy driving his pack ;
The knight stood still, went not away:
The burges was on an hacknay,
He hails'd the knight right reverently!
Then to the burgess thus spake he :
"Wish me, good friend, if that ye can,
Where that I may get any man,
Where I may find both corn and hay,
And stables for my steeds till day;
And lodging for myself this night,
That I may have my steeds well dight;
For I have ridden fast and sare,
I dread the steeds they are the ware,
But they get meat and noble stand."
The burges said, "Here is at hand,
Will ye ride west, a little down
Under the fell, a little town.
And ye may get both wine and aile,
And all kind 'of' wealth that ye can wail ;
And service both of man and knave,
And all easements that ye would have.
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2175
2180
192
THE HISTORY OF
It draws late, and near the night,
A stranger man may ride unright;
I will pass with you when ye ride,
Good sir, myself shall be your guide!
We shall not twin while it be late,
Then shall I put you in the gate,'
"">
The burges is a man of might,
And he rade talking with the knight;
He perceived well by his feir,
He was a ventrous knight of weir
And by his helm and by his shield,
That he had fought and won the field;
He call'd the man that by him stood:
"Go! hy thee home with all thy mood,
And see that there be ready dight
A royal supper for the knight :
This is a knight of aventour,
To me it were a great honour,
In company sen we are met,
That I had him in my reset ;
For we must now wit, ere we pass,
Into what countrey that he was;
Where he was born, and what degree,
Or in what land that he would be."
The yeoman sped him to the town,
2185
2190
2195
2200
2203
And swyth he caus'd lay the pokes down; 2210
Call'd the good-wife in privilie :
"The good man pray'd you tenderlie,
To see that there be ready dight
A royal supper for the knight:
His court is but inquietie,
A gentleman he seems to be."
The good-wife says, "It shall be done,
Go! speed you to the kitchin soon."
Of cookerie she was wonder slee,
And maked all as it should be
2216
2220
;
SIR GRAY-STEEL
193
Good beef and mutton to be broo,
Dight spits, and then laid rosts too,
Both of wild fowles, and als of tame;
Of each good thing they wanted nane.
The burgess said, “I have sons fair,
Two are great clerks, and great of lare;
The eldest is a young merchand,
He is right fair, and weel farrand.”
They bade the hall soon should be dight,
And a fair fire was burning bright,
And then belyve they set up light,
To keep the coming of the knight.
As they were entered in the town,
The burgess said in fair fashoun :
“It shall not turn you to your skaith,
I have an inn may serve us baith,
Will ye vouchsafe to pass with me,
To take such a simple harberie !
We shall not twin, sir, all this night."
Greatsumly thanked him the knight :
The fairest inn in all the town,
Before the yate they lighted down ;
Two yeomen came out of the hall,
When that they heard the burgess call.
Each one of them hath tane a steed,
A boy syne to the hekney yeed ;
Then to the burgess could he say,
"Good sir, while it be near the day,
2225
2230
2235
2240
2246
Ye must these steeds both look and see,
And for to govern them and me.”
The burgess said, "It shall be done,
2250
And bad they should be stabled soon.
Dight ye them well while it be day,
And bed them soft where they do lay:
Feed them right well with hay and corn,
Make them good chear untill the morn,
VOL. II.
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194
THE HISTORY OF
And ye shall have none other meed,
But I shall quite you all your need.”
The clerks they came and bare in light,
Past to the hall before the knight,
Took off his gear, and laid it by;
The eldest brother yeed on hy,
And brought in soon a stowp of wine,
With baken meat and spices fine,
While that the supper it was dight.
The spice and wine then drank the knight,
For he had been in travel long;
Then fell a talking them among :
Then, at the burgess could he speer,
2230
2265
Whom off have ye your holding here? 2270
Whether of earle, lord, or barroun,
Of bishop, or of king with crown?"
"He is an earle that ought this town,
And holds it in possession."
The knight, he says, "Where wins his hold?”
The burgess said, "As I have [bin] told, 2276
Betwixt the forrest and the sea,
In Galias, that great countrie."
When he heard tell of Galias,
Then thought he on of Lilias,
That was ay worthy, ware and wise,
And joyned full of great gentrice.
Be that the even supper was dight,
Boords covered and set on light.
2280
Then the goodwife made the good chear, 2285
And said, "Ye are all welcome here :
I pray you take it as your own,
For of your quantance I am fain.”
When they had eaten, they drew the cleas;
The clerks they stood and said the grace; 2290
Then brought they water to the knight;
While it was bed time of the night,
SIR GRAY-STEEL
195
They carped, and drank of the wine,
They had him to a chamber syne.
Then said the knight to the burgess,
"I pray you, Sir, of your gentrice,
That ye will rise before the day,
And put me forward in the way :
If ever ye come where that I dwell,
I shall quite you of your travel !"
The burgess said, "So mot I thrive,
Although your charge were greater five,
I should be further in that I might."
Greatsumly thanked him the knight.
2296
2300
He bade the yeoman he should not sleep, 2305
For they had two steeds for to keep,
But to wake him before the day,
And put him forward in the way;
And laid the sheild upon the soar,
And then he rode the knight before;
Himself lap on upon his own.
The worst of them might well have gone
2310
For king, or bishop, or baron;
For they were steeds of great renown.
The burgess rode on his hakney,
2315
And rade before to guide the way.
Thus rade they but two miles or three,
Before it was day light to see;
And when the light of day was plain,
The burges said, "I will again ;
Now may ye ride where ever ye will,
I pray God keep you from all ill."
The knight he said, "Farewell, adieu!
Trust ye right well, I shall be true."
2320
Sir Gryme, when he saw the West-land,
And great mountains on his right hand, 2326
Both daes and raes down and red,
And harts, ay casting up their head;
i
196
THE HISTORY OF
Bucks that brayes, and harts that bells,
And hynds running into the fields
And he saw neither rich nor poor,
;
But moss, and ling, and bare wild moor.
So it was then four days and mare,
Ere he could win to Sir Eger,
Who lived into great distress,
Byding at home in longsomeness.
Then came he home within the night,
And no man got of him a sight,
Nor young, nor old, into that place,
2330
2336
While that he came to the palace :
2340
He past into the chamber than,
Sir Eger was right wonder fain ;
For nothing was into that time,
Could be more welcome than Sir Gryme.
Pallias then with little din,
2345
He privily took the steeds in,
Ere any day was dawning light.
Then said Sir Gryme unto the knight,
"Now arm you soon in right effeir: "
And he put on Sir Gryme his gear.
Sir Gryme into the bed down lay,
Then to Pallias could he say,
2350
Into the hall go ye right swyth,
And see that if the Earl be blyth."
Then he is at his bidding gane,
He went full soon, and came again ;
And said, “The Earle has gone to meat,
With lords and ladies that are sweet;
""
The Earle served us of his bread :
Sir Gryme says, "Now, it is my reid,
That ye shall pass into the hall,
And show to them their tokens all,-
And though that fair young lady
Would come, and kiss you courteously,
2365
2360
SIR GRAY-STEEL
197
Keep no kindness to her now,
1
2365
And love her as she loveth you."
The knight he went, and would not cease,-
Laid down the jewels on the dease,
Hailsit the Earle and the Countess,
And barrons, that full worthy was,
And ladies, quyet as any faine :
2370
Then courteously rose fair Winliane-
But he did hold his head on hight;
2375
She kneel'd, and would have kist the knight;
She laid her hands about his hals.-
He said, "Lady, will I be false?
For I may no ladies' mouth kiss,
Untill I come where my lady is :
I am but a simple batcheler,
And may not be to you a peer;
We may then choose, and let all go,
To win a friend, and tine a fo :—-
I will not say all that I think,
2380
As ye have brew'd, so shall ye drink.".
And then she would no longer pine,
2385
And to the chamber to Sir Gryme;
But she said, “My lord, Sir Eger,
Is none in world to me so dear,
At me he is grieved greatly,
And I wot not wherefore nor why:
He was never christned with salt
2390
That could on me set any fault,
In open or in privitie,
But that I tarryed cruellie,
And that I was not in grief nor spite;
2395
But lawfully I may that quite,
Whether he would in church or queer."
The Lady wept, and made ill chear.
Sir Gryme he said, "Let be, Madam,
For he tells in his coming hame,
2100
198
THE HISTORY OF
That he had spyed a lady gent,
A brighter bride, with browes brent,
That is as great of kin and blood;
And als for riches, by the Rood,
She is of lordship and of land;
For ought that I can understand,
She is the best for his behove;
He sets but lightly of your love!
2405
Your foolish words have made him turn;
I think no marvel that ye murn;
2410
And [now] either come in reverence
Before the court in his presence,
While he forgive you heartfully,
Or else leave off, and let him be,
And take him as your fellon fo,
Syne love another, and let him go."
Sir Eger came into that time,
And found the Lady with Sir Gryme:
And he said forth right hastily,
2415
The words that griev'd him greatsumlie: 2420
"The swiftest hound that ever was made,
May run so far into a stade,
Will suffer, ere he come to lake,
A simple hound the game to take :
I say this by you now, Sir Gryme,
Ye were full wise to wite your time;
And I have, for the Lady's love,
Suffered the shame and great reprove,
And been in journeys her to please,
And ye have bidden at home in ease,
Will brook her now, and her ladies two,
Wherefore mine heart is wonder wo;
And, when your marriage is made,
Then would ye go into that stade.
I pray you, for your courtesie,
That ye would ride in towns with me;
2425
2430
2435
SIR GRAY-STEEL
199
A lady I shall show you than,
Is gaining for a greater man.
The Lady waxed wo and pale,
When that she heard him tell that tale; 2140
And that perceived wonder well,
Pallias and her damesell.
They took the Lady, led her away—
Sir Gryme to Sir Eger could say :
"Sir! let be your light language,
Yon lady is of high barnage,
And great of kin and heritage,
And all mastrie of her linage;
And lowlie she makes you entreat,
And ye bear you again too great :
Yet I do counsel you to bow,
And love the Lady that loveth you.”
The Knight lay still, and spake no more:
The Lady sighed, and sowned sore
Into the bower upon her bed;
Pallias then he him forth sped,
And said to him, "Yon Lady clear
Is like to buy your love full dear :
She is in soun ay sen she went;
Ye have great sin if she be spent:
Go, comfort her for Christ his sake,
And mean that ye should be her make."
Sir Gryme he said, "Not all this night,
Come shall he in the Lady's sight;
For, when he was most in disease,
She would do nothing him to please.
Her words hath grieved him fare more
Nor hurt, nor harm, nor any sore."
¶ Soon after that, upon a day,
Sir Gryme to Sir Eger could say,
2445
2450
2455
2460
2466
2470
"Pass on the morn as ye were wont,
Unto the forrest for to hunt;
200
THE HISTORY OF
And if ye may get any bread,
Pallias he shall your hounds lead:
This hundred winter saw ye none
From hunting get such welcome home."
And in the dawning of the day,
He bowned him in right array,
With twenty mo then I can tell,
And caught a kid before the fell.
He sought the forrest far and near,
Brake at an hart, and slew a deer,
And a great hart with many [a] tynd,
A dae, a buck, and so an hynd:
But good Sir Gryme at home could bide,
Past to the Lady the samine tyd:
He said, "Right many works, Madam,
Do serve good thanks, and yet gets nane,
And so I do, both late and air,
Betwixt you now and Sir Eger:
Thestreen he said, that he would ride,
And I have treated him to byde;
But neither can I tell how lang,
Nor yet how soon, that he will gang;
And either buy his love this day,
2475
2180
2486
2.100
2195
Or else let him alone for ay:
Go, warn the ladyes white as lake,
To make some work now for your sake,
And als ye charge them of the town,
That they meet in procession
Fairlie and in good fashioun.
Then meet him at his lighting down,
And I shall come, and stand you by,
Give to my counsel tenderly ;
And mend you all, if that I may,
I shall what I can do or say.'
""
She met him at his lighting down
Before the whole procession,
2500
2506
SIR GRAY-STEEL
201
She kneeled low down upon her knee;
Then said Sir Gryme full courteously,
"This Lady, that is white as lake,
Hath made great work, Sir, for your sake,
And courteously forgive her clear,
This hundred winters saw ye neir;
Nor shall ye see such procession,
Betwixt the castle and the town."
2510
2515
2520
2525
Into his armes soon he her caught;
And trow ye well that was soon fought:
For both their hearts they were so light,
As ever falcon was of flight.
Then to the Prieur of the town,
A worthy man of great renown :
"Where ever I travel, air or late,
I wrought wisely, not as a blate:
For we will now no longer sin.".
The Earle he called on Sir Gryme
And other barrons great of might,-
"Pass on your way all with the knight,
And maidens with the lady bright."
Be it was twelve hours of the night,
They married them in rich array ;
And for twelve days they made a cry-
They cryed a banquet for to stand,
With the great gentles of the land,
All would come to that seneyorie,
And knights to honour that lady ;
And all that liked, far and near,
To eat and drink, and make good chear;
To comfort them, and make them glad,
Minstrels they play'd as they them bade. 2540
¶ Soon after that, upon a day,
Sir Gryme could to Sir Eger say,
“I thought I had a little thing,
To purpose if I might it bring:
2530
2535
202
THE HISTORY OF
We shall be fellowes as for ay."
Sir Eger said, "It shall be swa;
For here I vow to God of might,
I shall never come in that sight,
Nor ye too low, nor I too hie,
But ye shall be as good as me;
Where ever ye eat, or where ye ly,
For all kind thing that ever may be ;
And well arrayed in all kind of thing,
To make good service for a king."
Sir Gryme said, “I have made a band
To pass again into yon land,
And I may not but perceiving.
Would ye say to your lady ying,
That ye live here in lasting pain,
While ye go to yon land again?
Soon after that, then, Sir Eger
Said to Winliane, the lady clear,
"Madame! I am under a vow,
My counsel I must take of you;
Me think I live in lasting pain,
While I go to yon land again.
Sir, then, she says, "There is no need
Ye put yourself in such a dread,
Send ye Sir Pallias your brother,
Ye love him better than another;
He shall have gold enough to spend,
And men of armes him to defend ;
He is an hardie man and wight."
Sir Eger said, "He is too light,
He loves too well to sit at wine,
That man's travel is eith to tine.
But, if ye would that I should bide,
Go, treat Sir Gryme for me to ride :
If he will pass into that land,
And take my charge upon his hand.”
2545
2550
2555
2560
2565
2370
2575
2580
SIR GRAY-STEEL
203
And she would bide no longer syne,
But sent a squire to Sir Gryme :
"My Lord hath made a sober band,
To pass again into yon land;
2585
2590
In the countrey he slew the knight,
But though a man be never so wight,
He should not pass in perils ay,
And I should fain he bade away."
Sir Gryme then said, "Get me a knight,
And fifty squires both bold and wight,
And I shall pass in that countrey,
And make him of all charges free.”
They gave a knight, that heght Sir Hew,
An hardie man, both wise and true;
Then the fourth day they made them bown,
They took their leave, and left the town.
2596
2000
Through the West-land full right they rade,
And at the burgess inn they bade,
Before where they took herberie
With all their court and company.
He received them right reverendly;
But they knew not that it was he:
He said, "Sir burgess, where are ye bown?
The burgess said, "Unto this town;
And als he said, I have an hall,
2605
Both wine and ale to serve you all."
The knight he said, "Ken ye not me?"
The burgess said, "So mot I the,
I saw you not before this night,
But that you seem a courteous knight."
"Once I caus'd you travel right late,
And came my errand in your gate.
I shall it quite, and all your meeds,
And for the stabling of the steeds."
Then knew the burgess it was he,
And kneeled down upon his knee;
2610
2015
204
THE HISTORY OF
And swore by Jesus, Heaven's King,
"I am right glad of your coming
With such a court and company,
And right so will my lady be."
"See that ye make this court good chear;
Let no man wit that we are here,
Not for a finger of mine hand,
That ever ye saw me in this land."
He past to his wife from the knight,
And bade her soon a supper dight :
He says, "There is come to this town
A pretty court, and lighted down;
Of them there is but knights two,
And fifty squires, and no mo:
A little boy upon a steed;
But in no country that I ride,
Saw I never in land or sea
A more cleanlier companie:
In all Gallias is not such ten,
As they be fiftie gentle-men.
The knight, that is their master-man,
In all the haste I may or can,
Bade me that I should come to you,
And tell, that ye might right well trow,
That this is he, the samine knight,
That rode home by the day was light;
When that I stabled the steeds tway,
And then I guided him the way:
He says, That he will be your guest,
When he hath put his court to rest.
She said, "Speed thee with all thy meed,
To comfort them, and make them glad;
And chamber them as they should be."
They brought the knight on privilie,
Where he met with the lady clear:
He said, "My soveraign and my dear,
2620
2625
2030
2635
2040
2645
2650
SIR GRAY-STEEL
205
How fare ye sen I went you fro?
Well, Sir," she said; "Have ye done so?
And your two maidens, myld of mood?
(They becked low, and by him stood,)
And if I live a year to end,
To your marriage I shall you mend,
And fourty pound shall be the least,
For your good will and your request."
They covered boords all of new,
Brought spiced meats of noble hew,
All dainties into dishes dight,
To the lady and to the knight.
Thus sate the lady and the knight,
While that ten hours was of the night,
Sitting at their collation :
2655
2€60
2665
Then to a chamber are they bown,
Whereas she made the knight to ly;
Her self went in a chamber by.
2070
And on the morn, at service time,
The burgess came to see Sir Gryme;
Said, "Graith you, Sir, and make you bown,
To go to service in the town!
The Earle is come unto service,
And all his houshold, more and less ;
The Countess, that is much of might,
And fair Lillias, the lady bright."
Sir Gryme met him upon the street,
And fiftie squyers upon their feet,
Kneeling right low upon their knee,
Which was a seemly sight to see;
Hailsed then the Countess clear
And other ladies fair of feir.
So did Sir Hew the gentle knight,
The Countess, and her maidens bright.
The ladies, that were white as lake,
Kissed the squyers all for his sake.
·
}
2075
2060
2086
206
THE HISTORY OF
The Earle called upon a knight,
Bade see the dinner should be dight
For all his court and company,
For I will bring them all with me.
Then after service went to meat;
And as soon as the Earle was set,
And the Countess that is much of might,
Then sate Lillias, the lady bright;
I wot they marshal'd her full right
With Sir Gryme that noble knight;
Sir Hew upon the other side,
With him a lady of much pride.
Thus they were altogether set,
2590
2696
2700
Even at the board to eat their meat.
The Earle was served in his state,
With cup and piece of golden plate;
And all was silver, dish and spoon ;
2706
The emperor or pope of Rome
Might have rung in such royaltie
This same day in their mangerie.
Then twentie days, the knight caus'd cry,
Into that land that he should ly,
2710
If any would in peace or weer
To come in plain, and prove his gear,
They should find him there ready bown,
And fiftie squyers in the town;
Or yet a knight to bear a tale,
To just, if any would assail.
Then wrote Sir Gryme to Sir Eger,
The burges him the letter bare;
He bade him he would pass the fell,
And in no countrey he should dwell,
Nor rest him in no kind of realm,
While he came in the land of Bealm.
Fra Sir Eger heard of Sir Gryme,
Was like a lord in such a fine;
2716
2720
SIR GRAY-STEEL
207
Soon in haste he caus'd be dight
An hundred men in armes full bright;
And of them there was but knights two,
And landed men many of tho :
2725
There was no yeomen men but ten,
For all the rest were landed men.
2730
The burges, then, that was their guide,
For all the haste that he could ride,
It was late ere he lighted down
On the first night in his own town,
Rested them well while the morn,
2736
And fed their horses with bread and corn;
And then upon another day,
Dyned ere they would pass away:
Through the ryot then that they made,
And the long time they there bade;
That night they went to the Garrace,
And harber'd in another place,
Right late upon the water down,
Twelve myles it is by west the town.
The burgess he had an inne there,
And made them all right well to fare.
And by ten hours was of the day,
2740
2746
To Garrace town upon a way,
Sir Gryme was bowning to a play,
And all his men in good array,
2750
With helm and shield, and spear in hand,
Upon a gentle steed steerand,
And fifty squyers bold and wight:
Then said the burgess to the knight,
"Yon are men, Sir, of your countrie,
Riding adventures for to see;
They govern them in good manner,
2756
And have done, ay, sen they came here."
Sir Eger came into such feir,
And was so glittring in his gear;
2760
208
THE HISTORY OF
1
Came ne'r none such in that realm,
As was the gentle-men of Bealm.
And fra Sir Eger got a sight
Of Lillias, the lady bright,
He lighted down, and left his steed,
And to her on his feet he yeed,
And hailsed her right reverently;
And he knew not the Earle was by;
And that perceived well Sir Gryme :
To Sir Eger he past that time.
"While I be quick, or yet be dead,
Either for friendship or for fead,
Our company shall be as true,
As first when we began of new."
Then sent he forth on every hand
His messengers to warn the land,
That all should semble far and near,
Bishops, abbots, both monk and freir;
There was then, at his lighting down,
Four hundred in procession,
That were men of religion,
Singing for him devotion.
2766
2770
2775
2780
¶ When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Sir Eger loved him by-lave,
And said, “In faith, so God me save,
2736
I am too ill to be your knave,
And that was for his doughty deed :
For when I was into most need,
With that great campion Gray-Steel
Both sore vanquisht and wounded-ill;
He armed me then with such gear,
And caus'd me gang in fained feir,
To take my leave into the hall;
Then past I forth before them all;
2790
And when he bade me keep mine hand, 2796
I had rather than all your land,
SIR GRAY-STEEL
209
He might had fortune to long age,
For he was still in full courage.
Your words they grieved me so sare,
They brought me in sorrow and care,
Behoved me for to ly down:
But he was bold, and ready bown!
He past stoutly on aventour,
And wan me worship and honour,
And slew Gray-Steel for all his might.
Syn privily, upon a night,
2800
2305
He brought me home both helm and hand,
Which wan me you and all your land;
Wherefore it shall example be,
To all that shall come after me,
Both poor and rich, I let you wit,
That I all company shall quit ;
It shall go with him to the eird,
That he hath won with knife and sword,
The honour he shall never tine,
He was so good in governing!
I make it known to good and ill,
It was Sir Gryme that slew Gray-Steel!"-
Then said Winliane the lady this,
2810
2815
"Then, he shall have away the prise,
The worship it is with him gane;
2320
Now may I live in lasting pain !
I should never have made you band,
Ye should never have had mine hand,
And ye should never have been mine,
Had I kend it had been Sir Gryme!"
Thus she was so set all to ill,
As wanton women change their will:
Amongst thousands there is not one
Can govern them but wit of none.
Into her hand she took a book,
And to God's mercy she her took,
VOL. II.
O
2825
2830
210
SIR GRAY-STEEL
And left the fair lordship of Bealm,
And thought to live upon her seam.
¶ Now, Sir Eger thought, upon a time, 2835
Upon himself and on Sir Gryme:
He bowned him with shield and spear
On God his foes to fight in weer.
To Rome he went the ready gate,
And was assalyed by the Pape;
Then to the Rhodes he took his way,
And there was captain years tway :
He discomfeit a set battel;-
Thirty thousand were told by tale,
For twenty thousand dyed there.
A better man than Sir Eger,
Was not counted that day to live,
So good in fight, by other sithe,
Then he discomfeit in years tway ;
By that Winliane was laid in clay.
He took his leave, and passed hame,
Lillias had [no] husband tane;
And so they lived at good concord; 1
Of her lands she made him Lord,
And he made her Lady of his ;
2840
2845
2850
2855
A bishop made a band of bliss,
And wedded them both with a ring:
I pray to Jesus, Heaven's King
To grant them grace, and good to spend,
And love ay while their latter end!
2860
1 Old copy reads:-
'Lilias had husband tane,
And they lived at so good concord.'
But it is evident that Sir Eger married her, after the death
of the other lady, on his return from the Crusades.
Finis.

The History of a Lord and his
HIS
Three Sons.
THIS
delectable little history" is taken from a copy
which the Editor has, said to be " Newly corrected for
the use of Schools," and printed in the year 1708; compared
with another three years earlier in date, formerly in the
possession of Archibald Constable, Esq., and now in the
library at Britwell. There are previous editions to either of
these, namely, one printed at Glasgow in 1695 in the Huth
Collection, from George Daniel's Library, and another from
the Edinburgh press, 1698, both, like those of 1705 and
1708, in small 8vo.
The reader will observe that several allusions are made
here to what the author says, although no author's name is
mentioned. But there can be no difficulty in tracing its
resemblance to the latter portion of the favourite story of
Fortunatus, which has been naturalised in most languages,
and was probably of a Scandinavian origin. It was first
made known to the English reader by Thomas Churchyard,
a noted and very voluminous writer in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, who professes to have translated it from the
Dutch,-probably the High-Dutch or German. In some
parts, however, the story approaches nearer to the tale of
Jonathas, of which Browne, 2 the English Pastoral Poet, has
introduced, in his "Shepherd's Pipe," 1614, Occleve's beau-
tiful version of the tale of "King Darius' Legacy to his three
Sons," from the "Gesta Romanorum." 3
From whatever source the anonymous writer may have
derived his version of the " History of a Lord and his Three
1 Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, Edin. 1814.
2 Browne's Works, by Hazlitt, ii. 178-191.
3 Douce's Illustrations of Shakespeare, vol. ii. p. 390.
Warton's English Poetry, edit. Hazlitt, i. 276–277.
211
212
HISTORY OF A LORD
Sons," it is quite evident that he has exhibited no great skill
in his adaptation of this popular story "for the use of
Schools;" but there are so few compositions of this kind
known, as to make it worthy of preservation, notwithstand-
ing its slender claims in point of merit.
The following is the title-page of the edition above men-
tioned: 1
A
DELECTABLE
LITTLE
HISTORY
IN METRE:
Of a Lord and his three Sons, containing his
Latter will and Legacy to them upon his
death-bed, and what befel them after his
death, especially the midmost& the youngest.
Revised, Corrected, and Amended for the use
of Schools.
Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.
He gotten has all Commendation
Who profite hath with pleasure mixt in one.
Edinburgh, Printed in the Year 1705.
1 This edition is in 16m0, pp. 24, printed in a very small
letter. The other copy, which is almost a literal reprint,
retaining all the errors, and adding a few others, extends to
pp. 36. The only difference in the title-page is the last line,
that reads,
"
Edinburgh, Reprinted in the year 1708.”
AND HIS THREE SONS 213
a Delectable little History of a Lord and his three
Sons in metre.

H
EAR Auditors a noble tale,
This writing shews it wondrous well:
And as mine Author doth record,
Upon a time there was a Lord
Of high renoun and of degree,
Had no bairns but only Sons three.
This noble Lord of high parentage,
Throw cruel sickness he died of age;
And th' end of his life nearhand by,
This Lord on death-bed could he ly;
This noble Lord withouten mair
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10
Said, "Fetch to me my Son and Heir."
Who came to him right hastilie,
And hailsit him right reverentlie;
He said, "Dear Father! how do ye?"
15
"What man of craft thinks thou to be?"
The Child answered his Father till,
"What ye command I shall fulfil;
And here I make a most great vow,
That to your bidding I shall bow."
The Lord answered his Son theretil,
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My broad bennison I leave thee still,
And all my lands after my days."
The Lord unto his Son he says,
With heart and mouth to him did say,
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"A rig I will not put away:
Be meek and good, and on the poor do rew,
And to the King see thou be ever true;
Devout to God, with true humilitie,
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And without doubt the great God will defend thee
Keep honour, faith, and thy lawtie,
And my broad bennison I leave thee:
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HISTORY OF A LORD
Strive thou thy life for to amend,
God will give thee a blessed end.
Thy mid-most brother thou send to me, 35
That I may counsel him trulie."
The mid-most Brother was nearhand by,
Came to his Father right speedily,
And hailsit him right reverentlie :
He said, "Father! how now do ye?"
He said, "My Son, as pleases God,-
For here I have not long abode."
"What have ye left me that ye will give?
How think ye, Father, that I should live?
I am your Son as well as he,
Ye might have left some part to me."
His Father said, "I'le not permit
Thee of my lands to brook a bit;
Thy eldest brother shall them brook,
I would he thee in service took:
Serve him with all the craft thou can;
He shall thee hold a gentleman,
Both in horse, cloathing, and in gear."
The Son said, "Not I, here I do swear!
Serve him, Wherefore? or yet for Why?
He is your Son and so am I.
I'll not serve him though he were wood;
Fellow right fain is wondrous good!
At him I think nothing to crave,
My part of land I think to have,
And all that will take part with me,
Either in part or privitie."
The Lord answer'd, "Thou ne're was wise,
Thou mayst not come to such a prise ;
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Strive not to that thou has no right,
And to debate thou hast no might;
Yet, Son, I think thee not to tine;
Take thou that Purse, both good and fine,
AND HIS THREE SONS
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It hath a vertue I let thee wit,
As oft thou puts thy hand in it,
A ducat of gold thou shalt find there,
Take forth and thou shalt spend the mair;
Then thou may be a man of might."
The young man leugh, and went out right,
And of the purse he was right fain.
When he his brother meets on the plain;
He says,
"Brother! thou stays too long,
Go thou in time for fear of wrong;
For I have here into mine hand,
That's worth an Earldom of land.
What our Father had far or near,
All is disponed, both land and gear."
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The youngest said, "I care not by.
My Father's life rather had I
Nor all the land, and gear alswa,
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Betwixt the Heaven and Earth this day."
"Sore sick is he, and wondrous woe,
That thou art thus so far him fro."
"God grant me his benison ere he die.”
He ran to him right hastilie,
And hailsit him right reverentlie;
And said, "Father! how do ye?"
(C
Right sick and feeble, and like to die;
My death draws near, as thou may see."
He says, "My Son, draw near and hear,
Give me thy heart, my Son so dear!
The same blessing I leave to thee
That Christ left unto mild Marie.
Son! I can leave thee no more here,
All is disponed, both land and gear.
What man of craft thinks thou to be?"
"A clerk to learn till that I die:
I you beseech, my Father, in haste,
My eldest brother you would request
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To find me books, and also claise,
That I may learn my God to please."
The Lord answered him right until;
"My eldest son shall that fulfil;
For I perceive well by thy face,
That thou art born to meikle grace.
But, Son, I think thee not to tyne,
Take thou that Mantle good and fine :
It's better to thee than gold or land;
The vertue none does understand;
Cast it about thee when ever thou will,
And thir words say the Mantle until,
'God, and my Mantle, and my wish,
If I were in the place, wherever it is;
Wherever thou wishes for to be,
Thou shalt be there right speedilie ;
Were it a thousand miles and mair,
Into a clap thou shalt be there :
Pass with my blessing, I leave thee it,-
To God I recommend my sp'rit."
>
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¶ When he was dead and laid in bear, 125
Of his Sons guiding you shall hear.
The eldest was a noble Lord,
Keeped his Lands in good concord:
The youngest Son keeped the school:
The mid-most Brother play'd the fool;
The Purse made him so high and nice,
He set his Brother at little price;
He grew so proud and wanton than,
That he misknew both God and man:
He had more men at his command,
Nor had the Lord that aught the land;
He was so wanton of gold and treasure,
Defiled women above all measure.
While it fell once upon a day,
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In uncouth land he would assay
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AND HIS THREE SONS
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Fair women for pleasure to fang:
In his countrie he thought so lang.
No stay for him, he made travail,
That he saw ships drest for to sail;
Syne went to sail with his mengie,
Till he came to a far countrie.
They sail'd the day, they sail'd the night,
Till of a land they got a sight,
The whilk was called fair Portugal;
There they landed withouten fail,
And all his mengie at his back,
Ready him service for to mak.
The King he had a daughter fair,
Had no more bairns, she was his heir;
He marvell'd who durst be so bold,
That in his countrie enter would,
Withouten seeking any leave!
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The whilk thing did the King much grieve:
"I will pass to him, (says he,) and speir,
Why they are come, I will require :
If they be noble men of blood,
They will give me an answer good."
Yet at that time he did not pass,
But charged another that readier was,
Bade his Daughter go on her way,
Bring him sure word what ever they say.
She passed quickly thorow the street,
And with the young man could she meet :
He halsit her right reverentlie,
Syne kneeled low down on his knee,
And said, "Princess, I you beseek,
As ye are maiden mild and meek,
That ye would grant me and my men
Here to remain nine weeks or ten ;
Mine own goods here onlie to spend,
Till we see farder, ere we wend;
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And afterward you service make
With heart and hand, if you will take."
She says, "Right welcome shall ye be
Both to my Father and to me:
Pass throw the countrie as ye think best,
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And spend your goods while they may last."
She called a Squire of great renown,-
((
Go, convoy them out throw the town ;'
And swa departed she and he,
Both blyth and glad as they might be,
Swa long as they bade in the town.
When it was time, they made them bown,
Spendand and wastand verie fast :
Till so it chanced at the last,
The King himself great marvel had,
That coinzie show him if he wad,
Where that he got that kind of gold,
That such like was not on the mold;
He spended so both late and air
His gold that was pleasant and fair.
Ilk piece thereof he had in hand
Did weigh two duckats, I understand.
The King himself was not so fed,
Nor yet so courtlie-like becled,
As was that man of great renown,
While he remained in the town.
And yet I never saw his maik,
For all his gold was of one straik;
He got none of it, I understand,
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195.
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Sen he came first into this land;
Where could he get that kind of gold,
That he spends so upon the mold?
Sen he came here what he has spended:
And what he has it is not ended."
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Right so anone the Lady fair,
Who was the King's daughter and heir,
AND HIS THREE SONS
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She trow'd he was some prince or king
Was now come to her in wooing:
He was but a bairnlie young man,
That could not speak his own erran'.
She went to him right hastilie,
Requested him right reverentlie,
He would come in her Father's yett,
That better traitment he might get,
And in his companie bring not ane;
So blyth he was of that tydane:
He came in haste at her command,
Syne reverentlie she did demand.
When he came there, within the yett,
The King's daughter then with him met;
He kneeled low down on his knee,
And gave great thanks to the Ladie:
Likeways the Ladie thanks him gave;
Syne asked at him what he would have?
((
My asking here is not as now,
My mind therefore I will tell you,
Wherefore and why that I came here,
That matter and purpose I shall clear.
Ask on, Madam, what is your will?
To do your pleasure I shall fulfill,
Saving my honour and my life,
To fight with spear, with sword, or knife,
In credit, wealth, or yet favour,
All shall be whole at your pleasure."
When speech was ended, as you may see,
She took him up right reverentlie,
And said to him right secretlie,
"Sir, will you stay a little with me,
Till that you drink, and drink again ;
Swa long as we do here remain,
It shall you not at all displease.
Sit down beside, it will you ease:
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Where love has its habitation,
Betwixt two it breeds consolation."
She cryed for wine, and to him drank;
He said, "Madam, here I you thank.”
[She] caused serve him with dainty cheer,
And said, "Sir, ye are welcome here;"
Then quietlie she to him said,
Whereof himself was no ways glad :
Saying to him, "Me thinks ye be,
Who now is come to this countrie
Me for to woe, or for to geck,
In your own errand cannot speak,
For as long here as ye have spended,
I marvel, that your gold's not ended."
He says, "Ladic, I am no king,
Nor have great lands in governing;
But if you will grant me my asking,
I will give you a precious thing,
The virtue thereof no man does ken
From this part to the World's en':
Wilt thou my true love for ever be,
And make a vow but to love me,
And be my dear while that I live,
Nor yet my person for to grieve,
The vertue of this I shall declare,
Where that I got this gold and mair;
And how that I may daily spend;
And how this gold will never mak end."
Quoth she, "Dear,
Dear, welcome mot ye be !
Sua long as your gold lasts trulic,
I shall be yours, ye shall be mine,
More dearer than Prince Florentine:
I swear to you my plight trulie,
And ever shall till that I die ;
Sua that ye bear the like to me,
That I shall do right faithfullie ;
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AND HIS THREE SONS
22I
And if you keep your privitic,
Your perfect truth plight unto me,
You your intent shall have of me,
Sua ye observe it honestlie."
And so thir two gave other their hand
To this agreement true to stand;
Both faith and truth to her did give,
Syne kissed her with her own leave.
At length the Purse shewed with his hand,
Said to her, "Will you understand,
This samine Purse, I let you wit,
As oft as you put your hand in it,
A duckat of gold you shall find there,
Take forth, and ye shall find the mair."
The Ladie perceived that it was swa,
The Purse to her soon can she ta,
They kissed other a good space there,
What other pleasures they had mair!
That he chanced upon a sleep,
The Ladie perceived, and had good keep,
And privilie she past away,
Let[tand] him ly till it was day.
While it was day, and after [n]one,
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[He] wakened belyve and made great moan,
None with him but himself alone,
Right sad in heart, and woe-begone;
And he left there the Ladie gent,
Then to his lodging soon he went;
While on the morn, in the morning,
Sorrow and care in his sojourning,
He looked about, and astonisht stood,
And marvelled as he were wood,
Saying to himself. "What have I done?
The great God knows that is aboon !"
Sua he perceived the Purse away;
Says, "Woe is me and harmsay !
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HISTORY OF A LORD
Alas! alas! what shall I do?
Or what art shall I turn me to?
Sent back his boy her to seek,
Beseekand the Ladie, both mild and meek,
To send him his Purse bedeen,
That he left in her chamber yestreen.
Sua soon then as the boy came nie,
He kneeled low down on his knee,
And says, “Ladie, God mot you save,
Of you I must good answer have:
My master has sent me you till,
Beseekand you of your good will,
Of your good will and charitie,
A good answer ye grant to me."
"Wherein shall I thee answer give?
Or if thou says ought me to grieve?
Say, what it is thou comes to crave?
Or what is here that thou would have?"
"Send to my Master his Purse bedeen,
That he left in your chamber yestreen.
The Lady did start, the Lady lap,
And ilk hand on another did clap:
"Swithe hy thee, traitor, out of my sight;
Command thy Master, in all his might,
That he pack out of this countrie,
Or I vow he's be hanged hie:
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I had rather hang him on a pin,
Or he come near my chamber within
I shall gar hang him on a knag,
If he speak either of purse or bag.”
The boy in hast sped him away,
Sped him right soon, made no delay;
His message from 1 the ladie said,
Whereof his Master was not glad,
1 Old copy reads master to.
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AND HIS THREE SONS
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Commanded his master for to wend;
Syne charged him and all his men
To pass in hast off that countrie,
Or else he would be hanged hie;
And since that he was charged so
Of that his master was full wo.
Little spending was left himsell,
Right as the storie doth us tell.
Thus in a morning forth fure he,
While he came to a far countrie;
Of his own life began to irk,
For he could neither beg nor work,
On no ways could he beg nor steal,
Though he was poor, he was right leil.
So it fell on a dangerous year,
That meat and drink, and all was dear :
He was so hungr'd, and put to pyne,
That he was fain for to keep swyne;
In all the land, as I heard tell,
There was but very little vittel.
He kept the swine, I leave him still,
And of the youngest speak we will,
Who kept the school, a noble clerk;
And of him farder we will carp.
He was a goodly man and wise,
It chanced he did get the prise,
The Pope of Rome he hapened to be:
The Cardinals wrote to ilk countrie,
Charging them all on Good-friday,
At mid-night for to watch and pray,
And send to Rome the holiest man,
That the Lord God best may or can ;
That God would to the chapter send
On Good-friday, or it did end.
Both doors and windows closed fast,
Syne home incontinent they past,
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HISTORY OF A LORD
And sealed the locks with their own hand,
And gave the keys to the Lord of the land.
The Clerk was blyth when he got wit,
His bony Mantle he hint to it:
""
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Says, "God, and my Mantle and my Wish, 395
If I were in the place, where ever it is,
In Rome's seat if I were set:
Soon was he there withouten let,
Into their seat when he came in,
He hint his Mantle then fra him,
And syne sat down upon his knee,
And to the great God prayed he.
Soon after meat on Good-friday.
Lords, Barons, came without delay,
And opened the chapter with a gin
Into the seat where he came in ;
They said, a Clerk was there sittand,
On both his knees ful fast prayand,
They thanked God both less and mair,
So holy a Clerk who sent them there,
Who was sent by the Holy Sp'rit
For to be Pope he was most meet!
Syne with that word they gave him doom,
And crowned him the Pope of Rome;
And all the bells of Rome they rang,
Priests and Friers all they sang,
So daily ilk ane with a shout,
They bore him all the town about,
And set him down upon his seat :
All men of him had great conceit,
Now Pope of Rome we leave him still,
And of the mid-most speak we will,
When that he came within the town,
To enter in he was most bown;
He told his Brother both less and mair,
Spoiled of all he was most bair,
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AND HIS THREE SONS
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His Brother was from far countrie,
He marvel'd of him to hear and see,
Into the woods among his faes,
Has left him neither gold nor clais
The Procession was charged him to meet,
With all solemnities compleat,
With honour great and good intent,
They were all readie incontinent :
Past throw the whole parts of the street,
The Pope's brother there to meet.
As soon as he his brother saw,
Great pleasure was among them a';
Syne took his Brother by the hand,
So did they all at his command :
Syne said, "Brother, welcome to me.
Ye shall want neither meat nor fee;
And a new cloathing ye shall take,
My master of household I shall you make ;
And I avow to my ending,
I shall you love aboon all thing."
He says, "Dear Brother, God you reward,
Now have you made me lord and laird,
A lord of office ye have me made;
And likeways promist fair lands braid.”
He had not been a moneth there,
While he thought on his Ladie fair.
And thought to win the Purse again,
And to the Ladie do no pain,
That his Purse fra him had tane.
Unto the Pope he said again,
((
Now, Brother dear, I you intreat,
Grant me an asking, I think meet.
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Then answer'd his Brother right reverentlie,
"Ask on, my Brother, what ever it be.”
Says, “Brother, lend me thy Mantle fine,
I swear to you, I'le not it tyne,
VOL. II.
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HISTORY OF A LORD
But bring't again after this day,
I no ways shall put it away."
The Pope answer'd with drearie chear,
"I had rather give you, my brother dear,
A million of gold, alse much of land,
Nor lend my Mantle out of my hand.
Yet, as I have said, it shall be swa,
I no ways will it hold thee fra,
Now keep it well, my Brother dear."
With that the Pope made drearie chear,
And frae his brother turn'd his back:
Syne took his leave, and no more spak.
His Brother had his Mantle in hand,
Cast it about him where he did stand:
Said, "God, and my Mantle and my wish,
If I were in the place where ever it is,
Wherever she be, that Ladie free,
That took that noble Purse from me."
Than be these words came in his thought,
He was into the chamber brought.
She was into her bed sleepand,
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And he upon the foot standand :
Laid down his Mantle and his wish,
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Then he began the Ladie to kiss ;
First to kiss, and then to clap,
And quietly in the bed he crap.
The Ladie wakened with a cry,
Says,
"Who is this that lies me by?
I pray you, tell me the manner,
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How came you in ?-who brought you here?
Your asking then, what ever it be,
Ye shall have it of me trulie."
He says,
t
My Mantle and my wish,
If I were in the place, where ever it is,
Where I desire or think to be,
There will I be right hastilie."
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AND HIS THREE SONS
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She said, "Sweet Sir, for Charitie,
As you would do anything for me,
Now wish me and your Mantle anone
Into yon place of Marble stone:
That we may play together there.'
And certainly withoutten mair,
""
Be that same word came in his thought,
They were both in the yle soon brought,
Unto a green place, where they lay;
And unto him there can she say,-
""
Lay down your head upon my knee,
That I may look a little wee.'
He needed no ways more bidding,
But suddenly fell on sleeping;
Upon her knee lay down his head-
Of his Mantle he took no dread,
The Lady well perceived that,-
Quickly she rose, and the Mantle gat :
The Mantle she took deliverlie,
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And wished herself right shortlie
Into her chamber, and that anone,
And in the yle left him alone,
Sleepand there like a drunken sow;
Both Purse and Mantle wants he now!
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But at the last then wakened he,-
He mist the Mantle and the Ladie;
Ye may well wit his heart was sair,
When he mourned, and made great care.
"My Purse and Mantle is now both gone,
And in this yland left alone:
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No creature is left with me,
Nor none to bear me companie;
Nor who will any meat me give:
Alas! Alas! how shall I live?"
Much was the care and dool he made
He rave the hair out of his head.
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He stayed not there well days three,
Till he saw ships upon the sea:
They sailed right so nearhand by,
While they did hear his voice and cry.
Syne saw him on a craig standand,
A man would fain be at the land,
Cryand to them, that they might see,
Help for his sake that dyed on Tree;
Said, "It was pitie for to see
A man distrest, whatever he be:
Upon yon craig mourning full sair,
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Right sad in heart, what would you mair?”
The ship came to the craig nearhand,
Their language could he not understand:
He knew them not, nor yet they him,
Yet willingly they took him in.
He signed to them, that he would gang,
Showing to them that he thought lang,
He would fain been at Rome again;
But with them he dought not remain ;
He wanted money, he thought great shame,
He thought he was so lang fra hame :
With their cock-boat put him to land,
Where he might see on every hand.
He passed to a part near by,
For meat and drink if he might try,
Yeid to a wood with heart full sair,
Pleasand and wholsome was the air ;
He swouned sorrowfully in that stead,
That he for hunger was almost dead.
He cry'd upon our Ladie dear,
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That hunger and thrist strack him so near.
He looked a little nearhand by,
A tree of apples he could espy ;
Right blyth and glad he was of that sight,
He took his fill, even as he might,
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}
And stepped a space beside the tree,
And said they were good companie.
Syne ate his fill of that fair fruit,
For him to gang it was no buit:
Because the apples that he did eat,
He fand them taking and right sweet:
A smell they had above measure,
Might please a king or emperour: 1
As well a dame as mighty queen :
Was never fairer seen with eyne:
"I may take apples now with me,
For hunger I think not to die."
He pulled the apples and ate so fast,
And filled himself, till at the last
He was as lipper as Lazarus,
Or any in the world I wis:
His head ov'r spread with byles black,
That none might ken a word he spak.
Right wisely then perceived he,
And saw fair pears upon a tree:
He pull'd the pears but any baid,
Right gladly ate ere he further gaid:
Sua leper he was, he would have been
For to have gotten medicine:
The pears he eat, the storie does say,
Whilk put the leprosie clean away;
He was as clean, the storie says this,
As anie into the world I wis.
With him he carried of apples threescore,
Of them surelie he took no more;
And twice as many of the pears he took,
That he took with him, he none forsook;
1 Old copy reads :—
'Might pleas'd a king or emperour,
As well for dames as mighty queens.'
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HISTORY OF A LORD
And if apples made leperous,
The pears healed most precious :
Of both the sorts with him he had,
All men were welcome, buy who wad.
Thir apples, that the man on fell,
Brought him great good, I shall you tell;
The apples he carried him about,
A strange vertue they had but doubt :
He carried these apples as he did pass,
And took them where the Ladie was.
Upon a time to the kirk he came,
Where he saw many a Ladie and Dame:
And as he sat in the kirk-yeard,
There came about him such a guard,
To buy these apples pleasant and fair :
And manie people he saw there.
Unto the kirk syne could he pass,
Bade still, and saw where the Ladie was,-
That Purse and Mantle frae him had tane;
He thought to do the Ladie much pain :
Thus thinking there as he could gang,
To bring the Ladie into such thrang;
Saying unto himself alone,
But kind of fair words spake he none.
He wist not to whom his moan to make,
He went to kirk door a seat to take;
And at the door he sat down,
Where the Ladie went readie bown:
He knew right well she would be there,
Where that she used to make repair.
The apples were seemlie to be seen,
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Men did not see such with their een;
There gathered about him a great meingie,
They wondred meikle the apples to see:
"How sell ye the apples?" they bad him tell,
"For ten ducats the piece I sell.
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AND HIS THREE SONS
231
Please you to buy I will take money;
Stand by if ye will not buy any,
Do not stand here my market to spill:
I bid none buy but these that will.”
In the mean time the Ladie was command
Unto the kirk with maidens in a band:
640
645
650
She strangely marvelled at the repair she saw,
And hither-ward then she began to draw :
A maiden answered, "It I shall you tell,
A daft fellow it is has apples to sell;
They are verie fair and comelie to see,
Ten duckats the piece for them seeks he."
The people around call'd him daft man,
As for an apple to seek that price than,
It cannot be but they have a vertue,
The apples have a right pleasant shew.
Then forward to the market the Ladie can gang,
To see the apples she thought great lang;
Some of them bought she, it was her pleasure,
To look and to view she took great leasure.
None of them she prev'd till morn afternoon,
And for that cause she sped her home soon,
And when she came into her Father's hall,
Syne after her maidens shortly did call,
(6
Bring hither the apples ye bought to me,
For they are fair and seemly to see."
653
660
She ate of them three, and thought them right dulce,
Till she was as leper as Lazarus ;
Her head overspread with byles black,
606
670
That none might hear a word she spak :
Syne looked in a glass and saw her self so,
Out of her right wits she was like to go,
Waily and the hour that ever she was born,
She saw her self so, Alas! I'm forlorn."
Be that her Father came in right at noon,
And cal'd for his Daughter to come to him soon,
232
HISTORY OF A LORD
Then a maiden answered meekly and spak,
""
675
680
"Your daughter is vexed with uglie byles black;
I cannot tell you how it fell the case:
Be that the blood shot into his face.
Her Father came soon without any baid,
Received his daughter into his arms braid:
Right sore he grat for his daughters skaith ;
For she to him comfort and joy brought baith,
He now does say, "Alas! full woe is me,
Upon my daughter this sad sight for to see."
She said to her Father "My heart is full wo.
Now what shall I do? or where shall I go
The King then said, "Good Lords, of grace
Cause shortlie to proclaim in everie place,
If any there be that her heal might,
My daughter shall him marrie outright."
Then to this counsel the Lords camen hy,
Both great and small, and that hastilie.
? "
Throw all Portugal both up and down,
Proclaimed through land, eik borrowtown.
The gentleman could well the matter speir,
Right blyth he was these tydings for to hear;
Yet he thought again the Ladie to beguile,
Both Purse and Mantle to get with a wyle.
Pepared cloths right seemlie to be seen,
Syne call'd himself Doctor of medicine:
This Lord he rode unto the borrowtoun,
At the best lodging there he lighted down,
After the hosteler incontinent speirit,
Both horse and man after him then requirit,
(6
""
685
690
695
700
705
Spare not for cost, although no Lord I be,
What ever my count is shall be pay'd surelie,'
They were right glad the tidings that he spake,
Yea, man and horse did both him service make,
So past his time compleat three days there.
The hosteler said to him, "Sir, what will ye fare?”
709
AND HIS THREE SONS 233
"A Doctor of medicine I'm ready at command,
There's none in Christendom I say this day livand,
Can heal diseases that I will take in hand,
And thereon I will lay my life in paund."
The hosteler said, "Of Leprosie have ye skill?” 715
"Yes, I can heal it, and that right wonder well;"
Then was he right blyth of that certaintie;
So was there one past from his companie,
And than anone they went and told the King,
That such a man in his bounds was living
A fine doctor, the best in all this land,-
No finer is as we now understand,
The King was glad, and his daughter also,
Commands the Porter unto him for to go,
Who made no stay, but came incontinent.
"Let me see now where is the Patient,
That I should heal, and also take the cure,
That shall I do by God's grace, be ye sure,
Take ye no fear, since I have tane in hand;
God be my guide, he is my sure warrand :
Let no dreadure enter into your heart,
I shall her heal before I do depart,
Or lose my life, before that I do go,
What I have said, if that it be not so."
When that he came, he saw the Ladie stand,
"This lipperness will I now take in hand,
Mend her sickness, in truth I take no fear;
Because I know the form and the manner
To heal her person both without and in,
And likeways als what fashion to begin,
If ye will keep your promise unto me."
"What I have said in faith and truth to be;
What I have sworn I will keep very well,
What I have said shall testifie my seal;
Nor shall deny the thing that I have said."
Whereof the doctor was both blyth and glad.
720
725
730
735
740
745
Dor M
234
HISTORY OF A LORD
The company rejoyced all about,
Fra she heard that she should be maid hail but doubt,
The King's daughter rejoiced greatsumly,
Before them came and hails'd the company.
Then she before her Father lighted down,
And unto God made her devotion.
That same command she vowed to fulfill,
Without faining or deceit thereintil;
750
760
"Get up right soon, and rise up off your knee, 755
Make true confession both to God and me,
And if that you make your confession leil,
I promise here to make you sound and well."
So she shew forth, and her confession said:
The Purse and Mantle no ways she opened,
And so these two she keeped still in mind;
Reveal'd them not, but kept herself in pine,
Caus'd her grow worse into her leprosie.
She said, "Alas! alas! and wo is me,
Now I am worse than ever I was before,
Full wo is me, and wo is me therefore."
The Doctor answer'd, saying, "I have no might
To help you now, you have not told the right,
I am right sure some things ye have forget,
Hid in your heart, to tell you will not set;
Out of the world far better I had been,
To kyth my craft, and ye no ways made clean."
The King said, "Daughter, likes thou to be hail?
I thee request make thy confession leal,
765
770
And here, I pray thee by the great God abone, 776
Without dissimulance make thy confession;
A lipper woman again shall never be,
Nor ever vext with such infirmitie.
When I am dead he's be King after me.
Please thou him wed, and married to him be, 780
If thou desires, it lyes into thy heart,
That he and thou in love be afterwart:
Mau
AND HIS THREE SONS
235
786
790
He to be King, and thou the Queen also,
From bail to bliss ye may together go.”
The Daughter said, "Remain, and now bide still,
And my confession I shall declare you till:
Now, Lord of Heav'n, thou knows I did receive
A Purse and Mantle, that wrongously I have,
Whilk I took fra a young man sickerlie,
Who was then once familiar with me;
In marble yle I left him mourning sore,
Pennance for him I dree'd the same therefore ;
This is the cause that I do wish for him
Health to my body both without and within."
The Doctor says, "Thir twa ye cast you fra ; 795
And see that ye forsake the same alswa,
And beseek God while ye are on your knee :
The Purse and Mantle ye render unto me."
She said, "Sir, I beseek with all my will
The Purse and Mantle you freely take you till." 800
The gentleman was blyth, I understand,
Receiv'd them both, and took them in his hand,
Then past aside a little the Ladie him fra,
And said these words, before he past away:
"Now God and my Mantle and my wish,
If I were in the place wherever it is.”
805
810
Be this was said, incontinent he was there,
And left the Ladie into great dool and care,
Wailyand the time that she was ever born
Into this wretched life, thus for to be forlorn.
"Thus leave I now the lady sick and sair,
And to return to Rome I now will fare,
And shew my Brother of my great craft and skill,
The truth to see, and als to know my will:
How I have done, and what way I have wrought, 815
The Purse and Mantle how I again have brought;
Of my coming he will be wondrous blyth,
And als be glad, I pray God make me thrive."
236
HISTORY OF A LORD
>>
He would not bide, but went to him right soon,
He said, "Brother, ye're welcome here to Rome!" 820
"I have gotten my Purse and Mantle again,'
Brother, (he said,) of that I am right fain.
She that deceived me, both meek and mild,
Is lipper sick, and I have her beguil'd."
"Fy, now," he says, "that will our conscience
grieve,
825
Keep God's command, and help her for to live :
If thow has any skill, throw help of God and man,
Help thow the Ladie with all the craft thou can.
Be not unkind, but help with all thy might,
Do her the good thou can, both day and night: 830
If she were whole, and seemly to be seen,
Great commendation bears thow where she has
been.
835
840
Right shortlie go and help her out of pain;
Shew love to her who can thee love again :
Do not deny, but grant when thou art here,
And for her sake see that thou to me swear,
Thou shalt do right, and not thy conscience grieve,
But trulie help, and I will thee believe;
Thou's be her husband, syne wed her with a ring;
And after that unto thy bed her bring :
Syne as a Prince live at thy own liking,
It may befal thereafter thow be King!
To that effect he hath writ most hastily,
And for to pray the King especiallie,
Sayand, "My brother is a worthy gentleman,
Of medicine full well the craft he can ;
All sorts of sickness we hear that he can heal;
He leprosie can cure withoutten fail :
We hear ye have a daughter wise and fair,
No moe ye have, we know she is thy heir:
I am inform'd for my brother she is meet,
Betwixt them both would ye with band compleat,
845
850
AND HIS THREE SONS
237
866
860
866
Great pitie is that ought should now her ail,
I would she were relieved and made hail.
If that ye please he wed her with a ring,
And after that in Portugal be King."
The letter then to Portugal went right soon:
If this matter betwixt them might be done,
And to conclude, amongst them make a bond,
The cause and why, how the matter should stand;
With their consents, and yours that it might be,
'Twixt Pope and King this was made sickerlie.
Syne send his brother with letters of parchment,
That written was within to stand content.
So at that time the letters to him gave,
Saying to him, "My blessing mot ye have:
Go on the way, thou take thir men with thee,
Forsooth, they are a goodlie companie
With thee to fare in ship as ye may sail,
Till that thou come to land in Portugal.
I give thee here a million for to spend,
Although thou sail'd unto the world's end.
When thou art come into the King's palace,
Show my commission and thanks unto his Grace,
Syne come again to Rome, and show to me
With thy messsge, what the King said to thee.
If his daughter thou heal of her disease,
The samine done, my self it shall well please."
Sua the Lady was brought from care to bliss,
And after that she ay remained his :
Syne married her with joy and comforting,
So he gave her rich rubies in a ring;
In midst of it a great jewel there was,
870
$75
880
Shined more bright than glittering was the glass;
The price of it I heard men right tell,
Was worth half the kingdom of Portugal:
Rich was the jewel, if richer there might be:
The like I hear was not in no countrie,
885
238 HISTORY OF A LORD, ETC.
For preciousness and vertue that it had,
It was so fine, that she thereof was glad,
Content she was to do all his bidding,
And him obey'd and pleased in all thing;
With earls, lords, knights, barons comforting;
What wisht she more, she had much rejoycing.
The nobles all that dwelt in her countrie,
Were all obedient to her Majestic,
Ready to do her service and pleasure,
What she would have of gold and rich treasure ;
Brought to her Grace abundance of plentie,
Of rich jewels and wonders for to see.
They gave her one that was most worthy all,
The light of it shined on every wall.
For why it was a thing most precious,
Shining within like rubies radious,
And so without, as many one might see,
A vertue had, all marvelled what it could be,
In such a jewel that all men marvel had,
Of what sickness it healed, lass or lad.
So to be short, in this my tale I tell,
890
896
000
906
The samine was, the book shows wondrous well, 010
Thir two were married, lived in joy and bliss,
In earthly pleasure, no farder could they wish.
They had delights and pleasures manifold,
In earthly things with pleasure as they would.
Of children I hear none was them between,
They wanted not that might them intertain ;
At length deccast, no farder can I tell,
But I hope that they in Heaven do dwell.
916
Finis.

THIS
Roswall and Lillian.
HIS pleasant history was the last of the Metrical
Romances that retained their popularity in Scotland;
and the circumstance of its being chanted in the streets of
Edinburgh is still within recollection. Since that period it
has become familiar to the public from an elegant analysis ¹
by one of the most accomplished editors of early poetical
literature, Mr. G. Ellis.
1
This tale is not known to be extant in manuscript 2 in its
present form, although the story and plot closely resemble
those of the ancient fabliau of the “Lord of Lorn," extant
in Bishop Percy's celebrated Folio volume written in the
reign of Charles II.; and the carliest printed copy, which
appears to be an amplified Scotish version of an Elizabethan
English original, is that from which the following publication
is taken.
1 Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol. iii.
p. 382-393.
2 See Hazlitt's "Tales and Legends," 1892, p. 385.
8 This point is not very important, inasmuch as the Folio
MS. chiefly consists of transcripts, often very negligent and
illiterate, from printed texts. A ballad of the "Lord of
Lorn" was printed in 1580.
4 It was purchased in 1813 for the Advocates' Library at
the Roxburghe sale, and when we add that it produced the
sum of nine guineas, the reader will have some idea of the
value attached to perhaps the only existing copy of an im-
pression evidently published for the ancient fraternity of
'flying stationers." The original is a small 8vo bl. 1. and
contains 14 leaves, corresponding to this reprint; in which
the only variation consists in having the lines numbered for
239
240
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
The style of this Romance, says Mr. Ellis in reference to
a later copy, apparently printed at Newcastle about 1775,¹
"has perhaps been modernised, and the tale seems to have
been awkwardly and carelessly abridged, unless we suppose
it to have been printed from a mutilated and imperfect
manuscript. There is, I think, no internal evidence to
justify our ascribing its original to an earlier period than
the middle of the 16th century." This observation may
apply with greater force to the copy from which Mr. Ellis
formed his abstract than to the present, in which the story
has evidently suffered less than the language:-besides, its
composition must be referred to a still earlier age than that
which he specifies, as it might be difficult to prove that any
tale of a similar description belonged to a period so recent
as the sixteenth century. If the present copy had exhibited
a less modernised and corrupted text, it might have been
curious to trace the change which took place in the course
of the half century that intervened between the publication
of these two editions.
Of the common stall-copies that have escaped destruction,
the latest we have met with is entitled-"The pleasant
history and love adventures of Roswal and Lillian, with
their love song, &c.," Edinburgh, printed in the year 1785,
p. 24. It has this proemium,—
"Here doth begin a worthy and a noble tale
Of Roswal and Lillian withoutten fail,"
and contains in all 411 lines. Like other pieces of tradi-
tionary poetry, it has suffered, in passing among the people,
progressive degradation; but as time went on, instead of
being apparently dilated, as in the edition of 1663 (we have
the facility of reference. Another edition was printed in the
year 1679, as appears from the MS. Catalogue of that curious
collector, Robert Mylne, whose books were disposed of by
auction after his death, which took place in the year 1749,
at the patriarchal age of 104.
1 But many impressions issued in the course of the last
century from the printing offices there, as well as those at
Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Belfast. The copy used by Ellis
consisted of only 426 lines, instead of 846, as in the text of
1663.
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 241
not seen that of 1679), it underwent curtailment, in order,
perhaps, to fall within the compass of a duodecimo sheet.
It may indeed have been taken from a previous edition, not
more accurate, and in fact comes nearer to the lines quoted
by Mr. Ellis than the corresponding ones in the older copy.
Thus 1. 16 reads-
"
Wight Hannibal nor Gandifer."
Instead of visiting the three lords in prison to provide them
with their dinner, it is said that
"The jaylor to the prison cam
To give the lords their morning dram.”
But it is unnecessary to point out variations so palpably
absurd and corrupted. The concluding lines, several of
which do not appear in the following copy, may serve as a
sufficient specimen of the whole; and the reader may begin
the comparison at 1. 833. They are literally transcribed :-
"Fair Lillian bare him bairns five,
VOL. II.
The fairest that might live in life:
The eldest son was king of Belam,
The second son of Naples realm.
For therefore was made the king,
Right after his father's days ending,
The third son was made Pope of Rome,
And then ancn when this was done,
The eldest daughter such was her chance
She married the great Daphin of France.
The second married the prince of Pole,
I pray to God the death might thole,
To bring us to his lasting glore,
Which shall endure for evermore.
When these things were ended done,
Roswal past to his mother soon,
His father long time before was dead,
But his mother of him was glad.
So Roswal and Lillian sheen,
Liv'd many years in good liking.
I pray to Jesus, heaven's King,
To grant us heaven to our ending,
Of them I have no more to say,
God send them rest untill doom's day."
Q
242 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
'Roswal and Lillian, their love song,' commencing-
Of Naples, fam'd for maidens fair,
Bright Lillian was the grace;
Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream
Reflect a fairer face,"
is nothing less than an awkward transformation of Tickell's
well-known and justly admired ballad of "Colin and Lucy.
"
The text of 1663 is evidently very corrupt, and some pas-
sages seem to defy emendation.

A PLEASANT
HISTORY
OF
Rofwall and Lillian.
DECLARING
The occasion of Rofwall his removing
from his Native Kingdom, to the
Kingdom of Bealm, and what befell
him in his journey from his Steward:
The entertainment he met with from
an aged Wife: His Education at
School; With his fortunate admiſſion
to be fervant to Lillian the Kings only
Daughter, with whom she fell deeply
in love. The reward of the three Lords
by whom he attained the honour of the
three dayes Jufting before the Marriage
of the Steward, who was knowen to be
a Traitor and therefore justly executed;
with the renewed wished-for Marriage
betwixt Rofwall and Lillian: His
thankfull remembrance of his friends;
the number of his children, and their
good fortune, all worthy reading.
EDINBURGH,
Printed by I. H. Anno 1663.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂ
ÌÂÂÂÂ
244 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
The History of Roswall and Lillian.
OW will ye list a little space,

N
And I shall send you to solace :
You to solace, and be blyth,
Hearken, ye shall hear belyve,
A tale that is of veritie,
If ye will hearken unto me.
In Naples lived there a King,
Had all the lands in Governing.
Who had a Lady fair and young,
Whose name was called Lillian :
This Lady pleasant was and fair,
Bare him a Son, which was his Heir,
Whose name was called Roswall:
Of fairer heard I never tell;
Οτ
10
Princes to him could not compare,
15
Ulisses nor Grandifer,
Achilles nor Troylus,
Nor yet his Father Priamus :
The Knight that kept the Parent well,1
Was not so fair as Roswall.
There lived into that Countrie,
Worthy noble Lords three,
That to the King had done treason,
Therefore he put them in prison;
And there he held them many a day,
Till they were aged quite away,
Aged and quite o'ergrown with hair,
While of their lives they did despair,
That they knew of no remedie,
But looked after death daily;
So it befell upon a day
The young Prince he went to play,
Him to play and to solace,
And so it happened in that case,
1 ? Æneas.
20
215
30
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 245
Toward the Prison he is gone,
To hear thir Lords making their moan,
He sate down and a little staid,
To hearken what thir Lords said:
They said, Dear God, have mind of us,
Even for the sake of dear Jesus
Who bought us with his precious blood,
And for us dyed on the rood,
To help us, if thy will it be,
And of this Prison make us free.
35
40
The Young Prince did hear their moan, 45
He heard their mourning and their groan :
Then to his Chamber he is gone,
Heavy in heart, as sad as stone;
He sate down and did foresee,
How best thir Lords might helped be,
And so he thought upon a wyle
The King how he might best beguile;
A custome then had the Jaylors,
Who keeped ay the Prisoners,
After the doors all locked were,
Unto the King the keyes to bear.
The King used them to lay
Under his bed-head privily.
The Prince soon perceiving had,
Where the King the keyes laid :
50
55
60
And on a night he watch did keep
Till that the King was fallen asleep :
He took the keyes full privilie,
And to the Prison gone is he,
Who did deliver thir Lords three,
65
Bade them passe home to their Countrie;
And then they swore by sweet Jesus,
If ever ye mister help of us,
We shall you help into your need;
Glad was he having done the deed.
70
246 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
The keyes laid under his Fathers head,
And went and slept as he were dead.
The King rose and eke the Queen,
The Principal, and Lords bedeen;
They went to messe and then to dine,
The Jaylors all did come in syne,
Asked from the King the keyes,
Which to deliver did him please:
Then to the Prison they went in fear,
To give the Lords their dinner there:
But when they came all were away,
They knew not what to do nor say.
The Prisoners away were gone,
How, or what way known to none.
The King was then so dollorous,
76
80
85
That the three Lords were scaped thus:
He sayes, O Lord, how may this be
That thir Prisoners hath been made free?
Under my bed-head lay the keyes,
None knew thereof, as God me ease,
And here I make a solemn vow,
90
Before you all my Lords now,
Who ere he be hath done the deed,
He shall be hang'd without remeed :
Or else so soon as I him see,
My own two hands his bane shall be.
It was reported through the Town,
That the young Prince the deed had done;
The word throughout the Pallace ran,
Which made the King a grieved man,
When he the vow considered
And that his Son had done the deed.
The Queen then far more grieved was :
She mourn'd and weeped with her face.
And quickly to the King went she,
Who, kneeling down upon her knee,
96
100
106
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 247
Thus said, for him that sits on hie,
Let your Sons fault forgiven be:
That may not be, Madam, he said,
For I a faithfull vow have made,
That as soon as I may him see,
My own two hands his bane shall be;
Therefore I pray you, day and night,
To keep him well out of my sight,
Till I send him to some Countrie,
Where he may safely keeped be.
And then in haste down sate the King,
Wrote letters without tarrying,
To send his Son to the King of Bealm,1
For to remain in that Realm.
Still to continue with the King,
Till he sent for his home-coming,
Letters in haste then soon wrote he,
Desiring the King especiallie,
For to receive his own dear son,
Which for most trust was sent to him.
His furnishing was made ready,
110
115
120
125
And he got gold in great plenty.
The King's Steward, a stalward Knight,
Was made to keep him day and night,
And so his servant for to be,
To keep him well in that Countrie e;
The Queen did look to the Steward,
And said, my love, my joy, my heart,
130
1 Here, on the title, and elsewhere, Bealm is the form
employed, and in "National Tales and Legends," 1892, it
was inconsiderately altered to Beaune; but Bohemia is, no
doubt, the realm intended, although there is no geographical
fitness in one more than in the other. Naples is mentioned
as the home of Lillian and the seat of her father's govern-
ment. The allusion in line 50 to the "Noble French
Queen" seems to have no special significance. The King
of Bane occurs in line 819.
248 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
Sir Steward, now I do thee pray,
To keep my Son both night and day,
And serve him both by foot and hand,
And thou shalt have both gold and land,
Or yet of any other thing
That thou'lt seek from me or the King.
He said, Madam, that may not be,
But I will serve him tenderlie.
She sayes, my fair Son Roswall,
136
140
Hearken what I to thee will tell,
When thou dost come to that Country,
146
Carry thy self right honestly,
Be Courteous, gent, kind and free,
And use ay in good companie :
And if thou needest ought to spend,
Send word to me, I shall the send.
He took his leave then of the Queen,
And of her Ladies all bedeen :
Great mourning and great care they made
When that out of the Town they rade,
The Gracious God mot be his guide.
So on a time as they did ride,
150
165
Side for side, hand for hand rode they,
None other saw they in the way,
Only they two in companie,
Came to a River fair to see:
The Prince then said unto the Knight,
My counsell is that here we light :
For in this place I thirst so sore,
That further can I ride no more,
Till of this water I get my fill:
Wot ye how I may win theretill;
The Knight leapt down deliverlie,
And drank the water busilie :
He bade him light and drink also
His fill ere he should further go :
100
165
170
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 249
And on his belly, as he lay down
To drink the water ready bown,
The false Knight took him by the feet,
And vow'd to throw him in the deep,
Unlesse that he did swear an oath,
That he the Gold and letters both
Should unto him resign gladly,
And his servant become truly,
To serve him well both day and night.
This oath he made to the false Knight:
He the Master, and he the Knave;
He gave to him what he would crave.
And then anone withoutten stay
They mounted both and went their way,
While they came to the Land of Bealm,
And had past much of that Realm.
The Kings Pallace when they came near,
Roswall made sorry chear:
For the Knight did him forbid,
Further with him for to ride;
He would see servants in the Town,
Abundance of all fashion.
176
180
185
190
Away he rode then with his gold,
Leaving poor Roswall on the mold,
With not a penny in's companie
To buy his dinner, though he should die.
So to the Town in hy he rode,
And in the Kings Pallace abode.
In his heart was great rejoycing,
Presented his letters to the King;
He read his letters hastily,
And said, Sir, welcome mot ye be;
Ye shall to me be leve and dear,
So long as ye will tarry here.
Now in the Court we let him dwell,
And we will speak of Roswall.
195
200
205
250 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
Roswall was mourning on the mold,
Wanting his letters and his gold:
He sayes, alace, and woe is me,
For lack of food, I'm like to die!
O that my Mother knew my skaith,
My Father and my Mother baith :
For now I wot not what to do,
Nor what hand to turn me to :
Neither know I how to call me,
But I'm Dissawar what e'er befall me,
As then he making was his moan,
Beside none but himself alone,
He lookt a little, and did espy
A little house, none else hard by ;
To himself he sayes quickly,
To yonder house I will me hy,
And ask some vittals for this night,
And harbour while the day be light:
He stepped forth right sturdily,
And to the little house went he;
He knockt a little at the door,
And then went in upon the floor.
He found no creature therein,
Neither to make noise nor din,
But a silly and aged wife,
In chastity had led her life :
He sayes, Dame, for Saint July,
This night let me have harbury,
And als some vittals till the morn,
For him that was in Bethlehem born;
She sayes, to such meat as I have
Ye're welcome, part thereof receive,
She set him down, and gave him meat,
Even of the best that she could get,
And prayed him to make good chear,
For you are very welcome here;
210
216
220
225
230
235
240
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 251
I know you are of far Countrie,
For ye are seemly for to see.
Tell me your name in charitie,
And do not it deny to me:
He sayes, Dissawar they call me,
So was I call'd in my Countrie:
She sayes, Dissawar, wo is me,
That is a poor name verilie.
Yet Dissawar you shall not be,
For good help you shall have of me :
I have a son, no children mo,
Who each day to the School doth go:
If ye will bide still here with me,
To him full welcome will ye be;
And daily you and he together
215
250
255
May go to School and learn each other;
He sayes, good Dame, God you foryield,
For here I get of you good bield.
260
As he and she was thus talkand,
In comes her son even at her hand:
Good Dame, he sayes, my mother dear,
Who's this that ye have gotten here,
This is a Clark of far Countrie,
235
Would fain go to the School with thee?
He sayes, dear welcome mot he be,
For I have got good companie.
And then they past to their supper,
For his sake had the better chear.
Then Dissawar fair of face
After supper said the grace.
And quickly to their beds went they,
And sleeped till it was near day,
And then the morn right airly rose,
And put upon them all their cloaths,
They went to School right hastilie,
By that time they could day-light see.
270
275
252 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
Into the School the Master came,
And asked Dissawar his name:
He sayes, Dissawar they call me,
So was I cal'd in my Countrie.
The Master said, now, Dissawar,
Thou shalt want neither meat nor laire :
When ever thou needest, come to me,
And I shall make you good supplie.
Great skill of learning before he had
Into the Country where he was bred.
He had not been a moneth there,
Into the School even little maire,
But the Steward unto the King
Of Dissawar had perceiving:
He did set well his Courtesie,
His nature and his great beautie;
Into his heart he greatly thought
In service to have him, if he mought.
The Steward to the Wife is gone,
And sayes, God save you, fair Madam,
Where got ye this child so fair,
That to this Lodging makes repair?
Sir, they do call him Dissawar,
And ay hes done since he came here;
He is my joy, he is my heart,
For he and I shall never part;
He sayes, Madam, that may not be,
He must go to the Court with me.
She sayes, Sir, its against my will,
280
285
290
295
300
203
If ye will let him here stay still.
The Steward took Dissawar fair of face,
And brought him to the King's Grace.
310
He had not been a moneth there
Into service or little maire,
But he was lov'd of old and young,
As he had been a Prince or King.
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
253
The King he had a Daughter fair,
And no moe bairns: she was his Heir.
She was by name call'd Lillian,
Of fairer forsooth I read of nane:
Not the Noble French Queen,
Nor yet the Lady Pelicane,
Nor yet Helen that fair Ladie,
Nor yet the true Phillippie,
Nor yet the Lady Christaline
Was not so fair as Lillian.
This lusty Lady Lillian
Choos'd him to be her Chamberlane,
Of which the Steward was full wo,
That he so soon should part him fro:
Yet would not say nay to Lillian,
Of which the Lady was right fain,
And entred him in her service,
For he was both leill, true and wise:
He brake her bread, and made good chear,
Filled the cup, the wine that bare :
She took such comfort then of him,
She lov'd him better nor all her kin.
Aside she call'd him on a day,
And thus unto him she did say,
Now tell me, Dissawar, for charitie,
Into what Country born was ye?
He said: I'm of a far Countrie,
My father a man of low degree:
I cannot trust, said she, by the rood,
But you are come of noble blood :
For I know by your courtesie
And by your wonder fair bodie,
That ye are come of noble blood,
This is my reason, by the rood.
Madam, by that ye may well ken,
That I am come of sober men.
315
320
325
330
335
340
345
350
254 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
Dissawar, my little flower,
I wish thou were my paramour :
God sen I had thee to be King,
That I might wed you with a Ring.
In her arms she did him imbrace,
And kist him thrice into that place.
He kneeled down upon his knee,
And thanked that Lady heartilie :
He said, Lady, God you foreyeeld.
That ye should love so poor a child;
And I now, Lady, while I die,
Love you again most heartilie.
355
360
Within his heart he was right glad
And he did think mair than he said.
Soon after that this Lady fair
365
Said anone to Dissawar :
Dissawar, I do you pray,
Cast that name from you away;
Call you Hector or Oliver,
Ye are so fair without compare:
Call your self Sir Porteous,
Or else the worthy Amadas;
Call you the noble Perdiccas,
1
Who was of fair and comely face;
Because that I love you so well,
Let your name be Sir Lawnfal,
Or great Florent of Albanie,
My heart, if ye bear love to me;
Or call you Lancelot du Lake,
For your dearest true loves sake ;
370
375
380
1 The writer may have borrowed this name, which does
not otherwise occur in the roll of chivalry, from an early
Scotish tract entitled "The Porteous of Noblenes," 1508,
where the word is evidently derived from the portasse or
portesse, the Roman breviary.
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 255
Call you the Knight of Arms green,
For the Love of your Lady sheen :
He sayes, Dissawar they must call me,
While afterward I more do see.
If ye will have no other name,
Call you a Squire to the King,
385
Or to his daughter Chamberlan,
For love of his daughter Lillian.
She laugh'd, and once or twice him kist,
And to her Ladies then she past,
390
And Dissawar was very glad,
For the joy he of the Lady had.
So it befell upon a day,
His Father to his Mother did say,
I think right long for to hear tell
Of my fair son Roswall:
I think so long I cannot sleep,
With that the Queen began to weep,
Who said, good Sir, for charitie,
Let some be sent him for to see:
It is long since he from us went,
Perchance his Gold is now all spent.
As the King his Father was to send,
There came Messengers even at hand
With letters from that noble King,
Which made him glad in every thing.
But they beguiled were both, so
That none of them the case did know:
The King had written on this manner,
Desiring his Son to his Daughter.
The King his Father was right glad,
That such a marriage should be made;
Therefore he every way consented,
Even as the King by writ had sent it;
An answer to him he did send,
When he the wedding would intend,
395
400
405
410
415
256
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
That he might send Lords of that Countrie
To bear witnesse to that marriage free.
The Messengers went home again,
And told their King what they had done; 420
And then anone without delay
Appointed was the Marriage day :
Who sent word to the noble King,
And he without more tarrying
Sent to solemnize that day,
425
An Earle and lusty Lords tway.
With them went two lusty Knights,
And many a gallant Squire wight.
The King of Bealm caus'd make a cry,
Three dayes before the marriage day,
To come and Just a course of weir
Before me and my Queen full dear,
To see who best will undertake,
To Just then for his Ladies sake.
But when to Lillian it was told,
Wit ye well her heart was cold;
For she lov'd none but Dissawar.
Who went and told him lesse and mair,
Said, at yon Justing you must be,
For to Just for your Ladie
And if ye will not Just for me,
Just for your Love where ere she be.
He saith, Lady, by my good fay,
I nere was bred with such a play,
For I had rather be at hunting,
Then singing, dancing, or at Justing:
Yet I shall stand by you, Lady,
To see who bears away the gree.
And so they parted on that night :
And on the morn when it was light,
Dissawar got up his way,
Went to the Forrest be it was day,
430
435
440
445
450
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 257
His hounds leading into his hand,
Full well triping at his command.
And when he came to the Forrest,
He looked East, and looked West,
He looked over the bents brown,
Where he saw neither house nor town,
The Myrle and Mavese shouted shrile,
The Sun blinked on every hill;
In his heart he had great rejoycing
Of the birds full sweet singing:
He looked down upon the spray,
When it was nine hours of the day,
And saw a little space him fra
A Knight coming, with him no mae,
Riding on a milk-white steed,
And all milk-white was his weed,
To Dissawar he came ridand,
And lighted down even at his hand,
And said anone, my full sweet thing,
I must be drest in your cloathing:
Take you my armour and my steed,
And dresse you all into my weed:
And to yon Justing you must faire,
To win you praise and honour mair:
When ye have done come ye to me,
Of Vennisoun ye shall have plentie.
Then Dissawar armed him quickly :
The Knight him helped that stood by :
He stoutly lap upon his steed,
And ran [by] Launches through the Mied,
Till he came to the Justing-place,
He saw his Mistress face to face,
And he saw many Ladies gay,
And many Lords in rich array,
And he saw many a lustie Knight,
Justing before him in his sight
VOL. II.
R
455
460
465
470
476
480
485
258 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
He rade unto the Justing place,
Where Knights encountred face to face,
And many sadles toom'd he there,
Both of knights and many a Squyer:
All men wondred what he was,
That of Justing had such praise:
The Ladies heart was wonder sair
And said, alace for Dissawar.
Why would he not tarry with me,
This Noble justing for to see?
And when the Justing was near done,
Then he beheld the Steward soon,
His heels turn upward there he made,
All that him saw were sore afraid.
Then he unto the Forrest ran,
As light as ever did a man :
490
495
500
The King cry'd with voice on hie,
505
Go take yon Knight, bring him to me,
And whoso brings him to my hand,
Shall have an Earldome of land:
But all for nought, it was in vain,
For to the woods he rode again,
Delivered his Armour and his steed,
And drest himself in his own weed:
510
The Lord had taken him Vennisoun,
And homeward with them made he bown,
As for help desired none he,
615
Presented them to his Ladie.
She sayes, now wherefore, Dissawar,
Beguil'd ye me in this manner?
He answered, my Lady dear,
Why say ye that unto me here?
Wherefore shall I come to Justing?
I have no skill of such a thing.
She sayes, a Knight with a white steed,
And all milk-white was his weed,
620
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 259
He hath born away the gree,
Of him is spoken great plentie :
And if ye bide the morn with me,
Ye peradventure shall him see.
I shall do so, said he, Madam,
The morn I will not pass from hame.
Then Lillian to her Ladies went,
Past to their supper incontinent :
And on the morn right timously
He did rise up be he might see,
And forth unto the Forrest went,
After the night was fully spent.
When that he came to those woods green,
The place where he before had been:
Under the shadow of a tree
He laid him down right privatlie.
The birds did sing with pleasant voice,
He thought himself in Paradice,
And to bear part, for joy sang he
Even for the love of his Ladie,
How she lov'd him her Paramour,
And she of all the world the flower:
For pleasure of the weather fair,
So clear and pleasant was the air,
His heart was light as leaf on tree,
When that he thought on his Lady.
He looked then over an hill,
And saw a Knight coming him till,
Having a red shield and a red spear,
And all red shined his gear.
To Dissawar he came full soon,
And at his hand he lighted down,
And said, Sir, take this horse of mine,
And all my Armour good and fine :
To the Justing in haste ride ye,
The gracious God your guide be!
525
600
535
640
546
550
655
530
260 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
And soon to him he reacht a Spear
Which he did take withoutten fear,
He then did ride forth merrilie,
And soon his Ladie can he see,
And she was cloathed all in white,
To look on her was great delight :
He made the Lady full gay halsing,
And then he went to the Justing;
And if he Justed well before,
Better that day by fifteen score.
He hunted the Knights here and there,
Even as the hound doth hunt the Hare,
And many Knights he bare to ground,
And some of them got their deeds-wound.
Of the Steward he got a sight,
And on his arse he made him light,
And then unto the Forrest ran,
566
670
676
As light as ever did a man.
The King cryed with voice on hie :
Go take yon Knight, bring him to me,
580
And whoso brings him to my hand
Shall have an Earldome of land.
But all for nought: it was in vain,
For to the Woods he rade again.
When he came there the Knight he leugh, 685
Have I not Vennisoun enough?
Ye have been at the field all day,
And I at hunting and at play,
Then Dissawar gave him his steed,
His shield, his armour, and his weed :
690
His steed was all of apple gray,
None better was, I dare well say.
Then Dissawar went home quickly,
With a white Hind to his Lady.
When he came home, as I heard tell,
She greatly did at him marvell,
595
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 261
That he came not to the Justing :
Lady, grive not at such a thing.
She sayes, a Knight with a gray steed,
And all red shined his weed,
600
This day hath born away the gree,
Of him is spoken great plentie:
And I have ever in my thought
That it was you the deed hath wrought.
I pray, Madam, trust no such thing,
For I no skill have of Justing.
She says: the-morn go not away,
Because it is the hindmost day :
But Dissawar full soon the morn
Got up and blew his hunting horn,
And went into the Forrest soon
With hounds and raches of renown,
And there he had great comforting
Of all the birds full sweet singing,
And then he looked up full swyth,
He saw a sight which made him blyth:
A Knight upon a stalward Steed,
And glittring Gold was all his weed:
His shield was red, his armour green,
Ov'r all the land it might be seen.
To Dissawar he came full soon,
And at his hand he lighted down,
And said, Sir, take this horse of mine,
And all my armour good and fine:
To the Justing in haste ride ye,
The Gracious God your guide be!
And even so soon as he came there,
He saw his Lady that was so fair:
And all the weed that she did wear,
In glittring red gold did appear,
He at his Lady did cast a Ring,
Then past he on to the Justing:
605
610
615
620
625
630
262 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
He rade among them with such force,
That he dang down both man and horse:
Out through the field when that he ran, 635
At each stroak he dang down a man.
Sir Roland and Sir Oliver
In their Justing made no such steir,
When he beheld the Steward than,
645
He dang him down both horse and man; 640
Both horse and man on the ground lay,
And of his ribs were broken tway.
Then to the Forrest he rade full soon,
When that the Justing was all done;
As swift as Falcon of his flight,
Upon a bird when he doth light.
The King cryed with voice full shrill :
Go take yon Knight, bring him me till :
And whoso brings him to me here,
Shall have my land and daughter dear,
But all for nought, it was in vain,
For to the woods he rade again,
Delivered his armour and his Steed,
And drest himself in his own weed.
He thanked him right reverently;
Then came the other two Knights in hy.
The same two Knights we spake of aire,
Who said, O blessed Master dear,
From prison you delivered us,
Wherefore mot thank you sweet Jesus,
And this is also most certain,
We promised to you again,
If ever you help of us did need,
We should perform the same with speed.
The-morn the marriage should be
Of the Steward who beguiled thee;
650
655
660
665
But therefore do thou nothing fear,
The Brides bed he shall not come near.
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 263
They took their leave withoutten mair,
And he went to his Lady fair.
And when that they were coming home
From the Justing every one,
He went unto his Lady gent,
Saluting her incontinent.
Are ye, Dissawar, welcome to me,
That so oft hath beguiled me?
But yet I must forgive you soon
Of all that ever you have done,
She sayes, a Knight with a stalward steed,
And glittering gold was all his weed,
This day hath born away the gree
Of all the Justing dayes three.
If to my Father the truth ye tell,
That it was you Justed so well:
Then dare I surely take in hand,
He'll give you me and all the land.
The-morn the marriage should be
Betwixt yon young Prince and me:
But here I make a solemn vow,
I never shall have man but you:
Therefore I heartily do you pray,
The-morn that ye go not away.
I shall do that, my Lady bright,
I shall not go out of your sight.
Then she the morn right airly rose,
And put upon her all her cloaths,
Unto the King then is she gone,
Who kneeled on her knees full soon.
Then said he, Lillian, what would ye?
Declare your mind now unto me:
If it be lawfull ye require,
I shall it grant at your desire.
Grant me my asking for Christ's sake,
That is a Prince to be my maik.
670
675
680
685
690
095
700
264 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
Ask on, he sayes, how that may be,
I have devised one for thee.
She sayes, they call him Dissawar,
I ask no more at you, Father.
That asking, I to tell thee plain,
Is not befitting for thy train :
For he is but a Batcheller,
For ought that I do know or hear :
We know of none he is become,
But this man is a great Kings son;
Therefore ye shall let such things be,
For it becomes not you nor me,
That we the Kings son should forbear,
And match you with a Batcheller :
To me it were a great defame,
And alse to you a very shame :
Therefore I counsell you forbear,
And wed yon Prince withoutten peer.
And then she past the Kirk untill,
And married him sore against his will;
And when the marriage was done,
She past unto her chamber soon,
And mourned there till dinner time,
That she was brought to hall to dine:
The King was set and eke the Queen,
The said Prince and Lillian sheen ;
Then every Lord and gentle knight
Marched with a Lady bright :
The Courses came abundantlie,
With bread and wine in great plenty,
At mid'st of dinner as they sat,
In came three Lords at the gate:
They did salute the King and Queen,
And eke fair Lady Lillian sheen:
705
710
715
720
725
730
735
But the Bride-groom that sate near by,
To him they made no courtesie.
740
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 265
The King thereat great marvell had,
That they to him no reverence made :
And said, Why do you not resign
Homage to your Prince and King?
They said, By Him that us dear bought, 745
Into the hall we see him nought;
Then all the hall they looked round,
At last him in a chamber found;
And then they kneeled down in hy,
Saluting him reverently,
And by the hand they have him tane.
Then marvelled in hall ilk ane :
The King wondered and eke the Queen ;
But blyth was Lady Lillian.
They did enquire how it befell,
750
755
So he the manner did them tell,
How that he thought him for to drown,
And in the River cast him down :
And how his gold from him took he,
And letters, to let him go free :
760
How he made him an oath to take,
Which will turn to his shame and lake,
That I a servant so should be
To him my Father sent with me:
The which he could not well deny,
But granted all right hastily.
Then Roswall told unto the King
All the manner of the Justing,
And shewed to him that it was he,
Who won the Justing dayes three.
And then they took the Steward soon,
And hanged him high after noon.
Then to the Kirk they passed there,
And married him and Lillian fair.
There is no tongue on earth can tell
The joy that then had Roswall:
765
770
775
266 ROSWALL AND LILLIAN
And wit ye well if he was fain,
Fainer was Lady Lillian.
For blyther was not Meledas,
When as she married Claudias,
Nor Belsant that most pleasant flower,
When she got Roland to paramour,
As was this Lady Lillian:
In heart she was right wonder fain.
780
They ate the spice, and drank the wine,
And past into their dancing syne :
The King danced with the Queen,
785
Then Roswall and Lillian sheen :
Every Lord and gentle Knight
Danced with a Lady bright:
They danced there till supper time,
So past unto their supper syne :
There was no Knight, the truth to tell,
That at his supper fure so well :
When that the supper ended was,
A Bishop rose and said the grace,
And syne they past to the dancing,
The Minstrels play'd with pleasant spring;
Roswall danced with the Queen,
The King himself with Lillian :
Then every Lord and gentle Knight
Danced with a Lady bright,
The Minstrels played with good will,
Till they had danced all their fill:
They ate the spice, and drank the wine,
Unto their beds they passed syne.
Roswall and Lillian glad
First are they gone unto their bed:
But what they did I cannot say,
I wot they sleeped not till day.
The Bridal lasted twenty dayes,
With dancing, carols, and many playes,
790
795
800
805
810
ROSWALL AND LILLIAN 267
With justing and with Tornament.
Then for the old wife he sent,
And to the King the manner told,
How she did in her house him hold,
And sent him to school with her son,
And how the Master treated him:
How the Steward did him perceive,
And from the wife did him receive,
And loved him even as his son,
In service to remain with him.
The King did marvell much again
To hear thir tidings so certain.
Then Roswall rewarded soon
All that ever him good had done:
First he gave to the old wife
Gold that lasted all her life,
And then without delay anone
He made a Bishop of her son:
The Master that did him instruct
His own Chapland he did him make.
Roswall and Lillian free
Had five bairns sickerlie,
Three sons and two daughters dear
Right fair they were withoutten peer :
The eldest son was King of Bealm
The second fell to Naples Realm,
The third son King of Bane was made,
When that the King thereof was dead;
The eldest daughter fell a chance,
Married the Daulphin of France;
The second on the Prince of Pail.
We pray to him that vanquisht hell,
And for us dyed on a tree,
To grant us heaven: Amen, say ye.
Finis.
815
820
825
830
835
840
845

AT
The Promine to King James
1
the Sext.
the time when the Editor was engaged in collecting the
poetical works of the author of "The Cherrie and the
Slae," he was not aware of the existence of this "Promine"
otherwise than from the notice given of its title by our typo-
graphical historians; 2 and from observing that in the sale
of Mr. West's highly curious and valuable Library, in the
year 1773, a copy of it was sold in a lot of "Fragments of
old English and Scottish verse." After many fruitless in-
quiries, it appeared that this identical copy was in the pos-
session of Francis Douce, Esq., who, with great politeness,
allowed a transcript to be made for the present publication.³
The author of this poem was Sir Patrick Hume of Polwart,
the antagonist of Montgomery in the well-known "Flyting,'
which they are said to have carried on "in friendly emula-
tion," and eldest son of a gentleman of both his names.
Among “The names of the XXV. gentlemen pensioneris
appointit to attend on the Kingis Majestie at all tymes of
his ryding and passing to the feildis," xvij. of Maij. 1580,
we find our author mentioned as "The young Laird of
Polwart." We are told that he was in great favour with
King James VI., who appointed him Master of his House-
hold, 1591; one of the gentlemen of his bed-chamber; and
Warden of the Marches. This last office was suppressed
upon the union of the crowns in 1603. He died 15th June
1609.4 His brother, Alexander Hume, Minister of Logie, is
known as the author of some beautiful descriptive poems
contained in a volume which nearly rivals the present tract
in rarity, as well as of other works.
5
1 Poems of Alexander Montgomery, with Biographical
Notices by David Irving, 8vo, 1821.
2 Ames, p. 585. Herbert, p. 1501.
3 It is now in the Bodleian. 4 Crawford's Peerage, p. 313.
5 Hymns or Sacred Songs, 4to, 1599.
208
The Promine,
I
Contening the maner,
place, and time, of the maist Elluster King James
the Sext his first passing to the feildis: directit
to his hienes: Be P. H. familiar ser-
uitour to his Maiestie.

VER
BVM
DEI
VERITAS
mrЛ]||
INCET
E Imprentit at Edin-
burgh be Johne Ros, for Henrie Charteris. 1580
Cum Priuilegio Regali,
R
270
THE PROMINE TO
The Epistill.

Reuerend Rois, and maist redowtit
Roy,
O peirles Prince, and Perll superlatiue;
Our hope, our helth, our help, and
warldlie Joy,
Comfort to Scotland Indefinitiue:
Cleir lamp of licht aboue all that dois liue;
Patrone of prudence, precious and perfite;
Gem of Ingine, to quhome God lykis to giue
Gracis far ma nor I can think or write.
5
Thocht ouir all quhair thy famous louing
springis
In reputatioun and greit reuerence;
Thocht thy renoun out throch al Europe ringis,
As flowand fountane full of sapience,
To offer this git to thine Excellence,
For feir of fault, I wald haue bene effrayit,
Gif I had not be sure experience
Thy gracious gudenes prouin and assayit.
10
16
For this respect, maist cūning courtes King,
As I desire and wischis eirnestlie
To pleis and serue gour grace in euerie thing,
Swa I beseik gour mightie Maiestie,
For to accept this mater, made be me
To glaid our grace, conforme to Intentioun
20
Of Clerkis commending, mirth with honestie,
As Comedeis, and sic uther Inuentioun.
KING JAMES THE SEXT 271
Schir, reid thairfoir, and mak me to reiois; 25
I hecht your hienes helping Goddis grace,
That I sall pen sum Poetrie or prois,
Mair profitabill, gif I get time and space:
And sen your wit all verteweis dois Imbrace,
Schortlie I sweir, bot gif gour grace allow it,
That I sall curs my cairfull catiue cace,
Sine quite this quair, and neuer sall awow it.
¶ To tak this peice in proper patronage,
Jour Prencelie prudence will me not deny;
Than gif thay speir, the Author to alledge
Quha wrait the veirs, I sall say it was I;
And sall not fussie men geuin to Inuy,
Bot quhen thay lak, or lauchis at my letter,
Bauldlie sall say in geuing the defy,
Upon the subiect se quha can do better.
T Finis.
30
35
40
¶ zour Graces humbill seruand to command,
I P. H. with faithful hart and hand.
¶ The Promine.
¶ On the xij. day at fiue houris before none
1500 seuentie nyne in Iune.
Go
OLDIN Titan with burning bemis bricht,
Be kindlie cours an[d] reuolutioun,
Appeirandlie to the Astrologues sicht,
Was in the first-degre of Cancer wone;
Or neir hand by, in his Ecliptyk rone,
45
272
THE PROMINE TO
Against the force quhilk daylie had him rent,
Be the first Mobillis weltering violent.
¶ Sa in his Solstice glemand gloriouslie,
Throw nature of his proper motioun,
That Pompous Planeit, placit properlie
In that North Signe, of richt ascensioun,
Quhair Juppiter hes exaltatioun,
Did with his bemis on bankis and brayis beit,
The frutes to foster with his hailsum heit,
And flowand Phæbe, Lady of the seyis,
Not retrograd, reuoluing in hir ring,
Beheld the west with fixit face and eyis
In Joyfull June, quhen the xij. day did spring
Befoir the furthcome of that cumlie King:
Quhilk as the Sone out of the cloudes gray
Fra Snawdoun Castell did discend that day,
With manlike maneris, maikles to behald,
With Princelie port and visage glorious,
With gentill gesture, wordis wise and cald,
In taikning of the maist victtorious,
Richt gaylie garnist with giftis gracious,
Quhais heuinlie hauingis stonischit the Air,
As efterward I purpois to declair.
50
66
60
65
70
At his first furthcome on the Gowane hillis,
To write how euerie circumstance befell,
Quhat beir began of Hagbutis, bowis, and Billis,
Quhat din of daggis, with clink of mony bell
At Falcounis fair, war tedious to tell:
For to be schort, I schaw not how the steidis
On bridillis bait, quhil famie mouthis bleidis. 76
KING JAMES THE SEXT 273
¶ git wald my Muse Inspire me with the spreit
Of Poetrie, and pairt of Eloquence,
To schaw the maner, I esteme it meit,
How euerie thing maid haill obedience
Unto his Royal hie Magnificence,
Reiosit swa, with suddand semelie sicht
Of that leidsterne and luifsum lamp of licht.
¶ His Princelie presence superexcellent,
As lemand Lanterne maist delectabill,
Did euerie leuing creature content;
And to thingis senceles semit amiabill,
Quhais Celsitude was sa acceptabill,
That in their kind Ilk thing did obseruance,
His heich honour and worschip to auance.
¶ I mene not onlie thingis Inferiall,
That subiect ar unto corruptioun ;
Bot also celeste and Superiall,
Quhais substance is but alteratioun ;
80
85
90
As fair Phebus, or utherwayis the Sone,
Quhilk is composit of na Element,
95
That day brak up in his bricht birneist Tent.
And schew his radious visage rubicound,
Quhilk all the day lay hid unto the howr,
That his grace Ischit furth upon the ground;
Thairefter did on eirth his presence powr,
Excluding than all signes of the schowr,
Sa glaid he was to se his gudlie grace,
And -
-
1 the phisiome of his face.
100
¶ Sine in the praises of that Prince preclair
Spred furth his Purpour springis aureat,
Into sic sort to purifie the Air,
1 Two words in this line are illegible.
105
VOL. II.
S
274
THE PROMINE TO
Quhill all the skyis skaillit violat ;
The Hemispheir become Illuminat
Upon the eirth, be heuinlie Influence,
Distelland dewis on vapouris sweit as sence. 110
¶ The ground ouirgiltand all with goldin glemis,
Quhill throw his michtie operatiounis,
Furth of fresche fludes, bet with buriall bemis,
Rais sappie subtil exhalatiounis,
Quhais potent pithie Inspiratiounis.
Makis treis, frutis, and flouris for to spreid,
Nicelie enamaling mony mirthfull meid.
¶ Thā fair dame Flora glaiding gardings gay,
Syilit with schaddow of the blumand bewis,
Hir minglit Mantill meiklie did display;
Richt curiouslie, ouircleithand all the clewis,
With flouris of ane hundreth heuinlie hewis,
Quhair besilie the bummand honie Beis,
Tuik nurischement on natures tapestreis.
115
120
126
¶ Thair micht be sene the dewie perllis round,
Reuest the Rosis, and the Lilleis quhite;
Into dulce humouris herbis did abound
Bathing the bony Daseis of delite :
With ane sweit liquour on the leiffis lite,
Comforting all the fragrant freklit flouris
130
That spreidis in Maii, throw hailsum balmis
schouris.
135
¶ Obedientlie begouth than to unfald
The beiraris bricht, thair flouris to his eis,
Quhen thay his potent presence did behald,
Sa tender twistis trimling on the treis,
His prudent hie precellence for to pleis.
Thair Cristall croppis me thocht thay did Incline
In signe of homage to that Prince deuine.
KING JAMES THE SEXT
275
¶Into the Park did properlie appeir,
Richt trimlie trottand into trowpis and twais,
The wilde quhite cullourit Ky and falow deir,
With brawland bowkis, bendand ouir the brais,
The flingand Fownis, followand dune dais ;
Sa curage causit beistis mak besines
His Maiestie muifand to merines.
¶ Bot to behald it was ane perfite Joy,
And as ane eirdlie plesand Paradice :
To heir and se, thair at the Kingis conuoy,
The Merle and Maweis, chāgeing notes nice;
The Kiddis skippand, with Rais throw the rice,
Quhair birdis blyithlie on the branches sang,
With sic ane reird, quhill all the Rokkis rang.
140
145
151
155
¶ Swa schortlie throw sic heuinlie harmoneis,
Become richt coy, heiring the fowlis sing,
Baith Eolus, and Neptune God of seis,
Behalding fast the cumming of that King;
Quhilk was sa welcum unto euerie thing;
Quhat misteris mair, the Goldspinkis was sa glaid,
Cald thai haif spokin, doutles thai had said:
¶ Welcum, maist maikles Mirrour and A per
se,
With euerie princelie prerogatiue possest;
Welcum worschip, vertew, and honestie;
Welcum in warld the wise and worthiest ;
Welcum blist birth, as bountifull and best;
Welcum but peir, the maist Imperiall King
That is, or was, or in the warld sall ring.
Thow Salomon secund in sapience,
Ane Job in Justice, Jonit with pietie,
Perfitelie pleneist with all abstinence,
160
165
276
THE PROMINE TO
Discreitlie mixt with Magnanimitie,
Meik, mercifull, kind but Inconstancie,
To all gude men luifing and liberall:
In the thair wantis na wit Heroicall,
170
¶ Thy liuelie licht, o leidar Laureat!
All Christiane men may cleirlie knaw and se, 175
Dois glance as gyde, lyifis to Illuminat,
Instructing Kingis, and thair Nobilitie,
Be gude exampill, for to follow the,
As worthiest, but feinge to confes,
Next under God the hall eirth to posses.
Thow onlie may be callit verteous,
In quhome na vertew is deficient :
Indewit with the giftis plenteous
180
Of bodie, mind, and fortoun, to the lent;
Thairfoir Ze Knichtis and Clerkis with ane
cōsent,
185
And pynit pure men, from all panis relaxt
Salute your Souerane, sweit King James the saxt.
For vicious folk, with filthie faultis defylit,
Into his Court sall haue na praise nor place.
And gredie godles men sall be begylit,
Gif thay presume for to obtene his grace.
All fengeit flatteraris sall ay fle his face;
And as the snaw meltis from the Sone away,
Sa from his sicht the wickit sall decay.
130
196
¶ Quhairfoir now, Scotland, sing with ane accord
Baith greit and small, of Ilk stait and degre,
Perpetuall praise and thankis to the Lord,
That hes gow geuin sa gude ane King as he :
gow to mantene in eis and Equitie.
Wald God his dayis for euer might Indure,
Swa of all seill but sorrow war ze sure.
200
KING JAMES THE SEXT 277
¶ God grant his grace the Euerlasting gloir,
Long life, gude helth, praise and prosperitie:
Baith worschip, welth, and weilfair euermoir,
And of his fois the vailgeand victorie;
With heuinlie, eirthlie, full felicitie :
And that in him (God) be ay glorifeit,
Luifit, honourd, feird, and euer sanctifeit.
Finis.
205
L'ENVOY.
¶ Thir wordis few the Authour dois reheirs
Into this maner, speikand to his veirs.
My bony bill, of barbour language breuit,
Gif thow be euill, thow will be wors repreuit, 210
Be witles, vaine, enuyous Ignorantis,
Quhilk to speik euill, and do na gude thame
hantis.
For sum will say, thy febill Eloquence
Is euill cullourit but Intelligence.
215
Sum will say this, sum utheris will say that,
And pairt will speik in deid, and wait not quhat.
Syne sum seditious craftie knaifis Inding,
Will say, perhaps, thow dois but fleiche the King.
Thus, gif thow heir fals knaifis calumniat the,
I pray the baith to say and sweir thay le!
Schaw to sic fuillis, quhair euer that thow fairis,
Thy mening gude, and honester than thairis.
Gif, for all this, they ceis not to maling,
Than say thow art ressauit of the King
Unto quhais serene Celsitude I send the:
Thay ar ouir pert, syne gif thay vilipend the:
220
225
278 PROMINE TO KING JAMES
git of ane thing greitly thow may reiois
In Burgh, or land, quhair euer that thow gois,
All men of knawledge and Clerkis will cōmend
the,
And honest folkis will euir mair defend the.
230
Fin de L'enuoy.
Finis.

Ane Godlie Dreame, Compylit in
ΤΗ
Scotish Meter.
"
HE author of this poem, in what appears to have been
the earliest impression, is said to be M. M. Gentle-
woman in Culros,"-but in all the subsequent editions she
is designated "Eliz. Melvil, Lady Culros Yonger;" and
in a volume of poems by Alexander Hume (" Hymnes and
Sacred Songs," 1599), which is dedicated to her, she is styled
the faithfvll and vertvovs Ladie, Elizabeth Mal-vill, Ladie
Cumrie." To reconcile these apparent discrepancies, it may
be stated that this lady was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir
James Melvill of Halhill, the writer of a most interesting
volume of Memoirs of his own times; and that, by her
marriage with John Colvill, eldest son of Alexander, Com-
mendator of Culros (who during his father's life had the
designation of Colvill of Wester-Cumbrie), she received the
honorary title, first of "Lady Cumrie," and subsequently of
"Lady Culros." She is supposed to have survived her
husband, who in the year 1640, not long before his death,
succeeded to the peerage; but who did not assume the
1 Samuel Colvill, the author of The Whigg's Supplica-
tion," or "The Scots Hudibras," is usually spoken of as her
son;—if so, he unquestionably did not inherit much of
her pious and godly spirit, as his imitation of Butler may
evince. The allusion which he makes to Lady Culross's
Dream,
"Which sundry drunken Asses flout,
Not seeing the Jewel within the clout,'
"
is neither conceived nor expressed in a very decorous man-
ner; to say nothing of the words he has put in the mouth
of "John Cockburn" in the Preface to the said poem.
279
280 ANE GODLIE DREAME
title, although the succession of the Lords Colvile of Culross
was carried on by his immediate descendants.
An extract from the dedication of Alexander Hume's
Poems to our fair authoress may not be unsuitable, as
commending her virtuous dispositions, as well as poetical
talents, by one who is himself entitled to no inconsiderable
distinction amongst the writers of his time. It is dated 16th
of February 1598. "Hauing (he says) composed in my
youth, a few songes in verse to the glorie of God, seeing the
custome of men is to dedicate their workes to their fauorites
and patrones: shall it not be lawful to me also, after the
maner of men, to present vnto you (a faithfull and beloued
ladie) a part of my little labours? And sa meikle the rather,
because I know ye delite in poesie yourselfe, and as I
vnfainedly confes, excelles any of your sexe in that art, that
euer I hard within this nation. I have seene your com-
positiones so copious, so pregnant, so spirituall, that I
doubt not but it is the gift of God in you. Finally, because
so little a worke as this is, requires a short epistle, I take
my leaue, not doubting but my good meaning shall be
fauorablie accepted. Continue (good ladie and sister) in
that godlie course which ye have begun: let nothing be
done vpon ostentation. Loue your husband: haue a
modest care of your familie, and let your cheefe care be
casten vpon the Lord Iesus, who will recompense vs at
his comming."
The reader will have an opportunity, from the "Godly
Dream," to judge whether Hume has over-rated her poetical
talents. We might almost suppose the poem to have sug-
gested some passages in that inimitable work of fiction the
Pilgrim's Progress," in which the author has succeeded
so admirably in sustaining his allegory, and in giving life
and character to his abstract personifications. It is un-
certain if any other of her verses are preserved, except the
following Sonnet,¹ addressed to Mr. John Welch in the
year 1605 or 1606, when confined in the Castle of Blackness,
with some other Presbyterian ministers, on the charge of
high treason, but in reality for thwarting King James in
his notions of the royal prerogative :-
1 Wodrow's MSS. (Advocates' Library), 4to, vol, xxix.
Rob. iii. 6.
1
ANE GODLIE DREAME
281
"My dear Brother, with courage bear the crosse,
Joy shall be joyned with all thy sorrow here ;
High is thy hope; disdain this earthly drosse!
Once shall you see the wished day appear.
Now it is dark, thy sky cannot be clear,
After the clouds, it shall be calm anone,
Wait on his will whoes blood hath bought ye dear,
Extoll his name, tho' outward joyes be gone.
Look to the Lord, thou art not left alone,
Since he is there, quhat pleasure canst thou take !—
He is at hand, and hears thy heavy moan,
End out thy faught, and suffer for his sake!
A sight most bright thy soul shall shortly see,
When store of glore thy rich reward shall be."
"
"
"
Mr. John Livingston, in his MS. account of Eminent
Professors in Scotland," mentions Lady Culross as famous
for her piety, and for her Dream anent her spiritual con-
dition, which she put in verse, and was by others published;
and he says,
Of all that ever I saw, she was most un-
wearied in religious exercises; and the more she attained
in access to God, therein she hungered the more; of
which he adduces an instance that came under his own
observation, at Shots, in the year 1630. There is no doubt
that the "Godly Dream" was long popular among the Scotish
Presbyterians;- a circumstance which might have obtained
for it a more favourable regard than it has yet experienced.
But when writers who have treated of the early Scotish
Poets are so ungallant as to dismiss a poem of considerable
beauty and imagination as either unworthy of a single
passing remark, or as being a "nonsensical religious rhap-
sody" which "should be consigned to oblivion,"―surely
this is to be considered either as prejudice on their part, or
the want of taste and discernment, so essential in giving a
just estimate of the character and genius of our poetical
writers.
Dr. Armstrong, in his Essays, has alluded to the "Godly
Dream" in such a manner as if he recollected having heard
it sung by the peasants to some plaintive air. In referring
to "Scottish tunes," as feelingly expressive of the pas-
sions," he says, Who was it that threw out those dreadful
wild expressions of distraction and melancholy in Lady
""
282 ANE GODLIE DREAME
Culross's Dream?-an old composition, now I am afraid
lost, perhaps because it was almost too terrible for the
ear."1
Mr. Pinkerton thought otherwise. He observes
that "this composition is neither lost, nor is it too terrible
for the ear. On the contrary, a child might hear it repeated
in a winter night without the smallest emotion. The
dreadful and melancholy of this production are solely of
the religious kind, and may have been deeply affecting to
the enthusiastic at the period in which it was written." 2
•
In proof of the estimation in which this poem was held,
it may be mentioned that it continued to be reprinted so
late as 1737. The earliest edition is that printed in the
year 1603, consisting of ten leaves in 4to, bl. letter, the
text of which has been chiefly adopted in this republication.3
The following is a copy of the title-page, which in the ori-
ginal has a border and the woodcut device of the printer.
It was republished in 1606, 1620, 1644, 1680, 1686, 1692,
1698 (bis), 1727, and 1737. The Scotish idiom and ortho-
graphy have been very much changed in all the impressions
after 1603.4 There are no doubt other editions which have
escaped the Editor's notice.
1 Miscellanies, by John Armstrong, M.D., vol. ii. p. 234.
2 Select Scotish Ballads, vol. i. p. xxxvii.
3 The stanzas are not numbered, and the Saxon letter z
is made use of instead of y consonant, as in this reprint.
• At the end of nearly all the editions of "The Godly
Dream" is a poem added which begins, "Away vain world,
bewitcher of my heart" (likewise printed with the air in the
Aberdeen Cantus), but which has now been printed amongst
the Poems of Alexander Montgomery, author of the "Cherrie
and the Slae," 1821.


ANE GODLIE
DREAME, COMPYLIT IN
Scottish Meter be M.M. Gentel-
vvoman in Culros, at the re-
queist of her freindes.
Introite per angustam portam, nam lata est
via quæ ducit ad interitum.
EDINBVRGH
PRINTED BE ROBERT
CHARTERIS. 1603.
284
ANE GODLIE DREAME
Ane Godlie Dreame, Compylit in Scotish Meter, be
M. M. Gentelwoman in Culros, at the Requeist
of her Freinds.
I.

PON ane day as I did mourne full soir,
With sindrie things quhairwith my
saull was greifit,
My greif increasit, and grew moir and
moir,
My comfort fled, and could not be releifit;
With heavines my heart was sae mischeifit,
I loathit my lyfe, I could not eit nor drink;
I micht not speik, nor luik to nane that leifit,
But musit alone, and divers things did think.
II.
The wretchit warld did sa molest my mynde,
I thocht upon this fals and iron age;
And how our harts war sa to vice inclynde,
That Sathan seimit maist feirfullie to rage.
Nathing in earth my sorrow could asswage!
I felt my sin maist stranglie to incres;
I grefit my Spreit, that wont to be my pledge;
My saull was drownit into maist deip distres.
5
10
16
III.
All merynes did aggravate my paine,
And earthlie joyes did still incres my wo:
In companie I na wayes could remaine,
Bot fled resort, and so alone did go.
My sillie soull was tossit to and fro
With sindrie thochts, quhilk troublit me full soir;
I preisit to pray, bot sichs overset me so,
I could do nocht bot sich, and say no moir.
20
ANE GODLIE DREAME
285
IV.
The twinkling teares aboundantlie ran down,
My heart was easit quhen I had mournit my fill ;
Than I began my lamentatioun,
And said, “O Lord! how lang is it thy will
That thy puir Sancts sall be afflictit still?
Allace! how lang sall subtill Sathan rage?
Mak haist, O Lord! thy promeis to fulfill;
Mak haist to end our painefull pilgramage.
V.
"Thy sillie Sancts are tossit to and fro,
Awalk, O Lord! quhy sleipest thou sa lang?
We have na strenth agains our cruell fo,
25
30.
35
In sichs and sobbis now changit is our sang :
The warld prevails, our enemies ar strang,
The wickit rage, bot we are puir and waik :
O shaw thy self! with speid revenge our wrang,
Mak short thir days, even for thy chosen's saik. 40
VI.
"Lord Jesus cum and saif thy awin Elect,
For Sathan seiks our simpill sauls to slay;
The wickit warld dois stranglie us infect,
Most monsterous sinnes increasses day be day:
Our luif grows cauld, our zeill is worne away,
Our faith is faillit, and we ar lyke to fall;
The Lyon roares to catch us as his pray,
Mak haist, O Lord! befoir wee perish all.
VII.
45
"Thir ar the dayes, that thow sa lang foretald
Sould cum befoir this wretchit world sould end; 50
Now vice abounds, and charitie growes cald,
And evin thine owne most stronglie dois offend :
286 ANE GODLIE DREAME
The Devill prevaillis, his forces he dois bend,
Gif it could be, to wraik thy children deir;
Bot wee ar thine, thairfor sum succour send,
Resave our saullis, we irk to wander heir.
VIII.
"Quhat can wee do? wee cloggit ar with sin,
In filthie vyce our sensles saules ar drownit;
Thocht wee resolve, we nevir can begin
55
60
To mend our lyfes, bot sin dois still abound.
Quhen will thou cum? quhen sall thy trumpet
sound?
Quhen sall wee sie that grit and glorious day?
O save us, Lord! out of this pit profound,
And reif us from this loathsum lump of clay!
IX.
66
"Thou knaws our hearts, thou seis our haill desyre,
Our secret thochts thay ar not hid fra thee;
Thocht we offend, thou knawis we stranglie tyre
To beir this wecht; our spreit wald faine be free.
Allace! O Lord! quhat pleasour can it be
To leif in sinne, that sair dois presse us downe? 70
O give us wings, that wee aloft may flie,
And end the fecht, that we may weir the crowne !"
X.
75
Befoir the Lord, quhen I had thus complainit,
My mynde grew calme, my heart was at great rest;
Thocht I was faint from fuid yet I refrainit,
And went to bed, becaus I thocht it best :
With heavines my spreit was sa apprest
I fell on sleip, and sa againe me thocht
I maid my mone, and than my greif increst,
And from the Lord with teares I succour socht.
80
ANE GODLIE DREAME
287
XI.
"Lord Jesus cum, said I, and end my grief!
My spreit is vexit, the captive wald be frie
All vice abounds, O send us sum releif!
I loath to live, I wishe desolvit to be:
My spreit dois lang, and thristeth after thee,
As thristie ground requyres ane shoure of raine ;
My heart is dry, as fruitles barren tree
I feill my selfe, how can I heir remaine!”
85
XII.
With sichs and sobs as I did so lament,
Into my Dreame I thocht thair did appeir
90
Ane sicht maist sweit, quhilk made me weill con-
tent:
Ane Angell bricht, with visage schyning cleir,
With luifing luiks, and with ane smyling cheir :
He askit mee, "Quhy art thou thus sa sad?
Quhy grones thou so? quhat dois thou duyning
heir
With cairfull cryes, in this thy bailfull bed?
95
XIII.
"I heir thy sichs, I sie thy twinkling teares,
Thou seimes to be in sum perplexitie :
Quhat means thy mones? quhat is the thing thou
feares?
Quhom wald thou have? in quhat place wald thou
be?
Fainte not sa fast in thy adversitie,
100
Mourne not sa sair, sen mourning may not mend;
Lift up thy heart, declair thy greif to mee,
Perchance thy paine brings pleasure in the end."
288 ANE GODLIE DREAME
XIV.
I sicht againe, and said, "Allace for wo!
My greif is greit, I can it not declair;
Into this earth I wander to and fro,
Ane pilgrime puir, consumit with siching sair:
My sinnes, allace! increases mair and mair;
I loath my lyfe, I irk to wander heir;
I long for Heaven, my heritage is thair,
I long to live with my Redeimer deir."
XV.
"Is this the caus? said he, ryse up anone,
And follow mee, and I sall be thy gyde:
And from thy sighes leif off thy heavie mone,
Refraine from teares, and cast thy cair asyde ;
Trust in my strenth, and in my word confyde,
And thou sall have thy heavie hearts desyre:
Ryse up with speid, I may not lang abyde,
Greit diligence this matter dois requyre.”
XVI.
My Saull rejoysit to heir his words sa sweit,
I luikit up and saw his face maist fair
His countenance revivit my wearie Spreit,
Incontinent I cuist asyde my cair;
100
110
116
120
125
With humbill heart, I prayit him to declair,
"Quhat was his name?" He answerit me againe,
"I am thy God for quhom thou sicht sa sair,
I now am cummit; thy teares ar not in vaine.
XVII.
"I am the way, I am the treuth and lyfe,
I am thy spous that brings thee store of grace; 130
I am thy luif quhom thou wald faine embrace,
I am thy joy, I am thy rest and peace;
ANE GODLIE DREAME
289
Ryse up, anone, and follow efter mee,
I sall thee leid into thy dwelling place,
The land of rest, thou langs sa sair to sie;
I am thy Lord, that sone sall end thy race."
135
XVIII.
With joyfull heart I thankit him againe,
“Reddie am I, said I, and weill content
To follow thee, for heir I leive in paine ;
O wretch unworth! my dayes ar vainlie spent. 140
Nocht ane is just, bot all ar fearcelie bent
To rin to vyce, I have na force to stand;
My sinnes increase, quhilk maks me sair lament,
Mak haist, O Lord! I lang to sie that land."
((
XIX.
145
Thy haist is greit, he answerit me againe,
Thou thinks thee thair, thou art transportit so;
That pleasant place must purchaist be with paine,
The way is strait, and thou hes far to go!
Art thou content to wander to and fro,
Throw greit deserts, throw water, and throw fyre? 150
Throw thornes, and breirs, and monie dangers mo,
Quhat says thou now? Thy febill flesh will tyre."
XX.
"Allace! said I, howbeit my flesh be waik,
My spreit is strang and willing for to flie;
O leif mee nocht, bot for thy mercies saik,
Performe thy word, or els for duill I die!
I feir no paine, sence I sould walk with thee;
The way is lang, yit bring me throw at last."
"Thou answeirs weill, I am content, said hee,
To be thy guyde, bot sie thou grip me fast.”
VOL. II.
T
155
160
290
ANE GODLIE DREAME
XXI.
Than up I rais and maid na mair delay,
My febill arme about his arme I cast:
He went befoir and still did guyde the way,
Thocht I was waik my spreit did follow fast.
Throw mos and myres, throw ditches deip we
past,
165
Throw pricking thornes, throw water and throw
fyre;
Throw dreidfull dennes, quhilk made my heart
agast:
Hee buir mee up quhen I begouth to tyre.
XXII.
Sumtyme wee clam on craigie montanes hie,
And sumtymes staid on uglie brayes of sand;
They war sa stay that wonder was to sie,
Bot quhen I feirit, hee held mee by the hand :
Throw thick and thin, throw sea and eik be land,
Throw greit deserts wee wanderit on our way ;
Quhen I was waik, and had no force to stand,
Yit with ane luik hee did refresh mee ay.
170
175
XXIII.
Throw waters greit wee war compellit to wyde,
Quhilk war sa deip that I was lyke to drowne;
Sumtyme I sank, bot yit my gracious gyde
Did draw me out half deid, and in ane sowne. 180
In woods maist wyld, and far fra anie towne,
Wee thristit throw, the breirs together stak ;
I was sa waik their strength did ding me downe,
That I was forcit for feir to flie aback.
ANE GODLIE DREAME 291
((
XXIV.
Curage, said hee, thou art mid gait and mair,
Thou may not tyre, nor turne aback againe; 185
Hald fast thy grip, on mee cast all thy cair,
Assay thy strength, thou sall not fecht in vaine;
I tauld thee first, that thou sould suffer paine,
The neirer heaven, the harder is the way:
Lift up thy heart, and let thy hope remaine, 100
Sence I am guyde, thou sall not go astray.”
XXV.
195
Fordwart wee past on narrow brigs of trie
Over waters greit, that hiddeouslie did roir :
Thair lay belaw, that feirfull was to sie,
Maist uglie beists, that gapit to devoir.
My heid grew licht, and troublit wonderous soir,
My heart did feir, my feit began to slyde;
Bot quhan I cryit, hee heard mee ever moir,
And held mee up, O blissit be my guyde!
XXVI.
Wearie I was, and thocht to sit at rest,
200
Bot hee said, "Na: thou may not sit nor stand;
Hald on thy course, and thou sall find it best,
Gif thou desyris to sie that pleasant land."
Thocht I was waik, I rais at his command,
And held him fast; at lenth he leit me sie
That pleasant place, quhilk semit to be at hand.
"Tak curage now, for thou art neir," said hee.
XXVII.
I luikit up unto that Castell fair,
205
Glistring lyke gold, and schyning silver bricht :
The staitlie toures did mount above the air,
Thay blindit mee, thay cuist sa greit ane licht.
210
292
ANE GODLIE DREAME
My heart was glaid to sie that joyfull sicht,
My voyage than I thocht was not in vaine.
I him besocht to guyde mee thair aricht,
With manie vowes never to tyre againe.
215
XXVIII.
"Thocht thou be neir, the way is wonderous hard,
Said hee againe, thairfoir thou mon be stout;
Fainte not for feir, for cowarts ar debard-
That hes na heart to go thair voyage out:
Pluck up thy heart, and grip me fast about,
Out throw yon trance together we maun go:
The gait is law, remember for to lout,
Gif this war past, wee have not manie mo."
"
220
XXIX.
I held him fast as he did gif command,
And throw that trance together than wee went ; 225
Quhairin the middis grit pricks of iron did stand,
Quhairwith my feit was all betorne and rent.
"Tak curage now, said hee, and bee content
To suffer this; the pleasour cums at last.”
I answerit nocht, bot ran incontinent
Out over them all, and so the paine was past.
230
XXX.
Quhen this was done, my heart did dance for joy,
I was sa neir, I thocht my voyage endit;
I ran befoir and socht not his convoy,
Nor speirit the way, becaus I thocht I kend it ; 235
On staitlie steps maist stoutlie I ascendit,
Without his help, I thocht to enter thair ;
Hee followit fast, and was richt sair offendit,
And haistelie did draw mee down the stair.
ANE GODLIE DREAME 293
XXXI.
"Quhat haist, said he, quhy ran thou so befoir? 240
Without my help, thinks thou to clim so hie?
Cum down againe, thou yit mon suffer moir,
Gif thou desyres that dwelling place to sie:
This staitlie stair is not maid for thee,
Hald thou that course, thow sall be thrust aback.”
"Allace! said I, lang wandering weireit mee,
Quhilk maid me rin, the neirest way to tak.”
XXXII.
Than hee began to comfort mee againe,
244
And said, "My friend, thou mon not enter thair:
Lift up thy heart, thou yit mon suffer paine,
The last assault, perforce, it mon be sair,
This godlie way, althocht it seems sa fair,
It is to hie, thou cannot clim so stay;
Bot luik belaw beneath that staitlie stair,
And thou sall sie ane uther kynde of way."
XXXIII.
I lukit down, and saw ane pit most black,
Most full of smock, and flaming fyre most fell;
That uglie sicht maid mee to flie aback,
I feirit to heir so many shout and yell:
I him besocht that he the treuth wald tell.
"Is this, said I, the Papists purging place,
Quhair they affirme that sillie saulles do dwell,
To purge thair sin, befoir they rest in peace?"
XXXIV.
250
256
260
"The braine of man maist warlie did invent 264
That purging place, hee answerit mee againe ;
For gredines, together they consent
To say, that saulles in torment mon remaine,
294
ANE GODLIE DREAME
Till gold and gudes releif them of thair paine:
O spytfull spreits that did the same begin:
O blindit beists! your thochts ar all in vaine,
My blude alone did saif thy saull from sin."
270
XXXV.
275
"This Pit is Hell, quhairthrow thou now mon go,
Thair is thy way that leids thee to the land :
Now play the man, thou neids not trimbill so,
For I sall help, and hald thee be the hand."
"Allace! said I, I have na force to stand,
For feir I faint to sie that uglie sight;
How can I cum among that bailfull band?
O help mee now, I have na force nor micht!
280
XXXVI.
"Oft have I heard, that thay that enters thair,
In this greit golfe, sall never cum againe.”
66
Curage! said hee, have I not bocht thee deir?
My precious blude it was nocht shed in vaine :
I saw this place, my saull did taist this paine,
Or ever I went into my Father's gloir:
Throw mon thou go, bot thou sall not remaine,
Thow neids not feir, for I sall go befoir."
286
XXXVII.
"I am content to do thy haill command,"
Said I againe, and did him fast imbrace:
Then lovinglie he held mee be the hand,
And in wee went into that feirfull place.
“Hald fast thy grip, said hee; in anie cace
Let mee not slip, quhat ever thou sall sie :
Dreid not the deith, but stoutlie forwart preìs,
For Deith nor Hell sall never vanquish thee."
290
296
ANE GODLIE DREAME
295
XXXVIII.
His words sa sweit did cheir my heavie hairt;
Incontinent I cuist my cair asyde.
Curage! said hee, play not ane cowart's pairt,
Thocht thou be waik, yet in my strenth confyde.” 300
I thocht me blist to have sa gude ane guyde,
Thocht I was waik, I knew that he was strang :
Under his wings I thocht mee for to hyde,
Gif anie thair sould preis to do me wrang.
XXXIX.
Into that Pit, quhen I did enter in,
I saw ane sicht quhilk maid my heart agast;
Puir damnit saullis, tormentit sair for sin,
In flaming fyre, war frying wonder fast;
And uglie spreits; and as we throcht them past,
My heart grew faint, and I begouth to tyre.
Or I was war, ane gripit mee at last,
And held mee heich above ane flaming fyre:
XL.
305
310
316
The fyre was greit, the heit did peirs me sair,
My faith grew waik, my grip was wonderous small;
I trimbellit fast, my feir grew mair and mair,
My hands did shaik, that I him held withall :
At lenth thay lousit, than thay begouth to fall,
I cryit, “O Lord!" and caucht them fast againe ;
"Lord Jesus cum, and red mee out of thrall.”
(6
Curage! said he, now thou art past the paine.” 320
XLI.
With this greit feir, I stackerit and awoke,
Crying, “O Lord! Lord Jesus cum againe.”
Bot efter this no kynde of rest I tuke,
I preisit to sleip, bot that was all in vaine,
296 ANE GODLIE DREAME
I wald have dreamit of pleasur after paine,
Becaus I knaw, I sall it finde at last :
325
God grant my guyde may still with mee remaine!
It is to cum that I beleifit was past.
XLII.
This is ane Dreame, and yit I thocht it best
To wryte the same, and keip it still in mynde; 330
Becaus I knew, thair was na earthlie rest
Preparit for us, that hes our hearts inclynde
To seik the Lord, we mon be purgde and fynde :
Our drois is greit, the fyre mon try us sair;
Bot yit our God is mercifull and kynde,
Hee sall remaine and help us ever mair.
XLIII.
The way to Heaven, I sie is wonderous hard,
My Dreame declairs, that we have far to go;
Wee mon be stout, for cowards are debarde,
Our flesh on force mon suffer paine and wo.
Thir grivelie gaits, and many dangers mo
Awaits for us, wee can not leive in rest;
Bot let us learne, sence we ar wairnit so,
To cleave to Christ, for he can help us best.
XLIV.
O sillie saullis with paines sa sair opprest,
335
310
315
That love the Lord, and lang for Heaven sa hie ;
Chainge not your mynde, for ye have chosen the
best,
Prepair your selves, for troblit mon ye be ;
Faint not for feir in your adversitie,
Althocht that ye lang luiking be for lyfe;
Suffer ane quhile, and ye sall shortlie sie
The Land of rest, quhen endit is your strife.
360
ANE GODLIE DREAME
297
XLV.
305
In wildernes, ye mon be tryit a quhile,
Yit fordwart preis, and never flie aback :
Lyke pilgrimes puir, and strangers in exyle,
Throw fair and foull your journey ye mon tak.
The Devill, the Warld, and all that they can mak,
Will send their force to stop you in your way;
Your flesh will faint, and sumtyme will grow slak,
Yit clim to Christ, and hee sall help you ay.
XLVI.
The thornie cairs of this deceitfull lyfe
360
Will rent your heart, and mak your saull to bleid ;
Your flesh and spreit will be at deidlie stryfe,
Your cruel foe will hald yow still in dreid,
And draw you down; yit ryse againe with speid; 365
And thocht ye fall, yit ly not loytring still;
Bot call on Christ, to help you in your neid,
Quha will nocht faill his promeis to fulfill.
XLVII.
In floudes of wo quhen ye ar lyke to drowne,
Yit clim to Christ, and grip him wonder fast ; 970
And thocht ye sink, and in the deip fall downe,
Yit cry aloud, and hee will heir at last.
Dreid nocht the death, nor be not sair agast,
Thocht all the eirth against yow sould conspyre ;
Christ is your guyde, and quhen your paine is past,
Ye sall have joy above your hearts desyre.
XLVIII.
Thocht in this earth ye sall exaltit be,
Feir sall be left to humbill your withall;
For gif ye clim on tops of montaines hie,
The heicher up the nearer is your fall :
376
380
298 ANE GODLIE DREAME
Your honie sweit shall mixit be with gall,
Your short delyte sall end with paine and greif;
Yit trust in God, for his assistance call,
And he sall help and send you sum relief.
XLIX.
386
Thocht waters greit do compas yow about
Thocht tirannes freat, thocht lyouns rage and roir;
Defy them all, and feir not to win out,
Your guyde is neir to help yow ever moir.
Thocht prick of iron do prick yow wonderous soir,
As noysum lusts that seik your saul to slay ; 390
Yit cry on Christ, and hee sall go befoir,
The neirer Heaven, the harder is the way.
L.
396
Rin out your race, ye mon not faint nor tyre,
Nor sit, nor stand, nor turne back againe;
Gif ye desyne to have your hearts desyre,
Preis fordwart still, althocht it be with paine :
Na rest for yow sa lang as ye remaine
Ane pilgrim puir, into thy loathsum lyfe :
Fecht on your faucht, it sall nocht be in vaine,
Your riche rewarde is worth ane gritter stryfe, 400
LI.
Gif efter teires ye leif ane quhyle in joy,
And get ane taist of that Eternal gloir,
Be nocht secure, nor slip nocht your convoy,
For gif ye do ye sall repent it soir :
He knawes the way, and he mon go befoir:
Clim ye alane, ye sall nocht mis ane fall;
Your humblit flesh it mon be troublit moir,
Gif ye forget upon your guyde to call.
406
ANE GODLIE DREAME
299
LII.
Gif Christ be gaine, althocht ye seime to flie
With golden wings above the firmament ;
Come down againe, ye sall nocht better be,
That pride of yours ye sall richt sair repent:
Than hald him fast, with humbill heart ay bent
To follow him, althocht throw Hell and Death;
He went befoir, his saull was torne and rent,
For your deserts hee felt his Father's wraith.
LIII.
410
415
420
Thocht in the end ye suffer torments fell,
Clim fast to him, that felt the same befoir;
The way to Heaven mon be throw Death and Hell;
The last assault will troubill yow full soir;
The Lyoun than maist cruellie will roir,
His tyme is short, his forces hee will bend;
The gritter stryfe, the gritter is your gloir,
Your paine is short, your joy sall never end.
LIV.
Rejoyce in God, let nocht your curage faill,
Ye chosin Sancts that ar afflictit heir;
Thocht Sathan rage, hee never sall prevaill,
Fecht to the end, and stoutlie perseveir.
Your God is trew, your bluid is to him deir,
425
Feir nocht the way, sence Christ is your convoy, 430
Quhen clouds ar past the weather will grow cleir,
Ye saw in teares, bot ye sall reap in joy.
LV.
Baith Deith and Hell hes lost thair cruell sting,
Your Captaine Christ hes maid them all to yeild ;
Lift up your hearts, and praises to him sing, 435
Triumph for joy, your enemies ar keilde:
300
ANE GODLIE DREAME
The Lord of Hostis, that is your strenth and sheild,
The Serpents heid hes stoutlie trampit downe;
Trust in his strenth, pass fordwart in the feild,
Overcum in fecht, and ye sall weare the Crowne.
LVI.
441
The King of kings, gif he be on our syde,
Wee neid nocht feir quhat dar agains us stand;
Into the feild may wee nocht baldie byde,
Quhen hee sall help us, with his michtie hand,
Quha sits abone, and reules baith sea and land, 445
Quha with his breath doth mak the hilles to shaik?—
The hostes of Heaven ar armit at his command
To fecht the feild, quhen wee appeir maist waik.
LVII.
Pluck up your heart, ye are nocht left alone,
The Lambe of God sall leid yow in the way;
The Lord of Hostes that rings on royall throne,
Against your foes your baner will display.
The Angels bright sall stand in gude array
To hald yow up, ye neid not fear to fall;
Your enemies sall flie, and be your pray,
Ye sall triumphe, and they sall perish all.
450
456
LVIII.
The joy of Heaven is worth ane moments paine,
Tak curage than, lift up your hearts on hie;
To judge the eirth quhen Christ sall cum againe,
Above the cloudes ye sall exaltit be:
The Throne of joy and trew felicitie
Await for yow, quhen finishit is your fecht ;
Suffer ane quhyle, and ye sall shortlie sie
Ane gloir maist grit, and infinite of wecht.
460
ANE GODLIE DREAME
301
LIX.
Prepair your selfes, be valiant men of weir,
And thrust with force out throw the narrow way;
Hald on thy course and shrink not back for feir,
Chryst is your guyde, ye sall nocht go astray;
The tyme is neare, be sober, watch and pray,
Hee seis your teares, and he hes laid in stoir
Ane riche rewarde, quhilk in that joyfull day
Ye shall resave, and ring for ever moir.
465
470
LX.
Now to the King that creat all of nocht,
"
And Lord of Lords, that reules baith land and sie,
That saifit our saullis, and with his blude us bocht,
And vanquisht Death, triumphant on the trie;
Unto the grit and glorious Trinitie,
That saifis the puir, and dois his awin defend ;
Be Laud and Gloir, Honour and Majestie,
Power and Praise, Amen, Warld without end.
476
480
Finis.

The Lovers Duarrel; or Rosamond
"THE
of Scotland.
HE Lovers quarrel: or Cupids Triumph: being the
pleasant history of Fair Rosamond of Scotland.
Being daughter to the lord Arundel, whose love was ob-
tained by the valour of Tommy Pots: who conquered the
lord Phenix, and wounded him, and after obtained her to
be his wife. Being very delightful to read." London,
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke,
1677, 12mo, black letter, twelve leaves, including one of
woodcuts before title.
There are other early impressions, as well as later, of
which a sufficient account may be found in Hazlitt's "Biblio-
graphical Collections" or Handbook." It is, or at least
was, common as a penny history. The subject is one which
would necessarily be very popular. Besides the copies in book
form, there is one in the British Museum printed on a broad-
sheet and dated in coeval MS. May 29, 1657, with Richard
Th...
as the signature of the writer, the rest of the name
being lost. This entirely differs from that here given, as will
be presently perceived, and is entitled: "The Two Constant
Lovers in Scotland," &c. See Hazlitt's "Bibliographical
Collections and Notes," 1st Series, p. 267. No Scotish im-
pression has been found; but there are occasional glimpses
of Scoticisms retained, perhaps from editions no longer
known, 1
The present performance may, perhaps, be classed with
"The Chyld of Bristow " and "The Squyr of Lowe Degre."
1 See Halliwell's "Notices of Popular English Histories,"
p. 17-18.
302
THE LOVERS QUARREL
303
The scene is laid in Scotland, and it reads like a Border
legend. In the editions of 1657 and 1677, the language is
scarcely more ancient, for the most part, than that of the
period when it was published; but no doubt it was a
modernised version or rifacimento by a not very skilful
or scrupulous hand. In some of the Chapmen's editions
the title was altered to Tommy Potts, or the Lovers'
Quarrel."
"The Lovers Quarrel" has participated in the general fate
of popular stories, in the annexation, after a certain interval,
of a Second Part, narrating the subsequent history of the
hero and heroine. It is difficult to tell exactly when this
sequel was incorporated with the original tale; but it
appears in an impression which was formerly in Mr. Halli-
well's Collection, and which was published at Newcastle
about 1760. It is there entitled, "The Lovers' Loyalty; or
the Happy Pair, giving an account of the happy lives of
Tommy Potts (now Lord Arundel) ¹ and the Fair Rosamond,
his charming bride, who loved and lived in peace and unity
all their days. The Second Book.”
1
1 ? Arrandale. But all the names of persons and places
in this poem are fictitious. Lord Phenix, Harvy's-town,
Gilforth-Green, Strawberry-Castle, &c., are, as the late Mr.
David Laing remarked to the present Editor, unknown to
Scotish history and topography. So with lord Arundel or
Arrandale,
304
THE LOVERS QUARREL
¶ The Lovers Duarrel or Cupids Triumph. Being
the Pleasant History of fair Rosamond of Scot-
land. This may be sung to the tune of Floras
Farewel.¹
F all the Lords in Scotland fair,
And Ladies that been so bright of

blee,
There is a noble Lady among them all,
And report of her you shall hear
by me.¹
For of her beauty she is bright,
And of her colour very fair,
She's Daughter to Lord Arundel,
Approv'd his parand and his heir.
Ile see this bride, Lord Phenix said,
That Lady of so bright a blee,
And if I like her countenance well,
The heir of all my lands she'st be.
But when he came the Lady before,
Before this comely Maid came he,
O, God thee save, thou Lady sweet,
My heir apparand thou shalt be.
1 In the edition of 1657 it is said to be set
new tune."
2 The copy of 1657 opens thus:—
"In Scotland there are Ladis fair,
5
10
15
to a pleasant
there's Ladis of Honour & high degree,
Hey down, down a down, derry:
But one excels above all the rest,
And the Earl of Arundel's daughter is she.
With hey down, derry down,
hey derry down derry."
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 305
Leave of your suit (the Lady said),
As you are a Lord of high degree,
You may have Ladies enough at home,
And I have a Lord in mine own Country;
For I have a Lover true of mine own,
A Serving-man of low degree,
One Tommy pots it is his name,
My first love and last that ever shall be.
If that Tom pots [it] is his name,
I do ken him right verily,
I am able to spend forty pounds a Week,
Where he is not able to spend pounds three.
God give you good of your gold, she said,
And ever God give you good of your fee,
Tom pots was the first love that ever I had,
And I do mean him the last to be.
With that Lord phenix sore was mov'd,
Towards the Lady did he threat,
He told her father, and so it was prov'd,
How his Daughters mind was set.
O Daughter dear, thou art my own,
The heir of all my lands to be,
Thou shalt be bride to the Lord Phenix,
If that thou mean to be heir to me.
O father dear, I am your own,
And at your command I needs must be,
But bind my body to whom you please,
My heart, Tom pots, shall go with thee.
Alas! the Lady her fondnesse must leave,
And all her fond¹ wooing lay aside,
1 Copy of 1677, foolish.
20
25
30
35
10
45
VOL. II.
U
306
THE LOVERS QUARREL
1
Ye time is come her friends hath appointed,
That she must be Lord Phenix¹ bride.
With that the Lady began to weep,
She knew not well then what to say,
How she might Lord Phenix deny,
And escape from Marriage quite away.
She cal'd unto her little Foot-page,
:
Saying I can trust none but thee,
Go carry Tom Pots this Letter fair,
And bid him on Gilforth-green meet me :
For I must marry against my mind,
Or in faith well prov'd it shall be ;
And tell to him I am loving and kind,
And do wish him this Wedding to see.
But see that thou note his countenance well,
And his colour, and shew it to me;
And go thy way, and hie 2 thee again,
And forty shillings I will give thee.
For if he smile now with his lips,
50
55
60
65
His stomach will give him to laugh at the heart,
Then may I seek another true Love,
For of Tom Pots small is my part.
But if he blush now in his face,
Then in his heart he will sorry be,
Then to his vow he hath some grace,
And false to him I will never be.
Away this lacky boy he ran,
And a full speed forsooth went he,
1 In ed. 1657, Lord Fenix and lord William Fenix.
2 Old copy, high.
70
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 307
Till he came to Strawberry ¹-Castle,
And there Tom Pots came he to see.
He gave him the Letter in his hand ;
Before that he began to read,
He told him plainly by word of mouth,
76
His love was forc'd to be Lord Phenix bride. 80
When he look'd on the Letter fair,
The salt tears blemishèd his eye,
Sayes: I cannot read this Letter fair,
Nor never a word do 2 see or spy.
My little boy, be to me true;
Here is five merks I will give thee,
And all these words I must peruse,
And tell my Lady this from me :
Now 3 in faith, said Tommy, she is my own,
As all hereafter shall understand,
Lord Phoenix shall not have her night nor day,
Unless he win her with his own hand.
On Gilforth¹-Green I will her meet;
And if she love me, bid her for me pray,
For there I'le lose my life so sweet,
Or else her Wedding I mean to stay.
The boy took his leave of Tommy o' the Potts,
Fearing that he had staid too late ;
The Lady did wait of his comming,
85
90
95
And met him five miles out of the gate : 100
1 Strayberry-Utterson's copy.
2 Old ed. has to.
3 Here the ed. of 1677 follows more closely that of 1657,
which exhibits, however, superior readings, adopted above
and elsewhere.
4 Ed. 1677, Guildford.
308
THE LOVERS QUARREL
O bonny boy, thou art but young,
It gives me at heart thou'l mock and scorn ;
Ile not believe thee what my love hath said,
Unlesse thou on this book be sworn.
Now by this book, the boy did say,
And Jesus Christ be as true to me,
Tom pots could not read the Letter fair,
If he should have been hang'd at gallo-tree.
He said in faith you are his own,
As all hereafter shall understand;
105
110
Lord Phenix shal not have you by night nor day,
Unless he win you with his own hand.
For on Gilforth-green he will you meet,
And if you love him, you must for him pray,
And there he'l lose his life so sweet,
Or else the Wedding he will stay,
If this be true, my little boy,
Forty Shillings I did thee promise,
These tidings which thou tellest to me,
Here is ten pounds I will give thee.
My Maidens all, the Lady said,
That ever wish me well to prove,
Now let us all kneel down and pray,
That Tommy pots may win his love.
If it be his fortune the better to win,
As I pray to Christ in Trinity,
Ile mak him the flower of all his kin,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.
116
120
125
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 309
¶ The Second Part.
LETS leave talking of the boy,
That with his gay lady is turned home, 130
Now let us talk of Tommy o' the Potts,
And how to his Master he is gone,
When Tommy came his master before,
He kneeled down upon his Knee,
What news? what news? thou Tommy o' the
Potts,
Thou art so full of courtesie?
135
What tydings, what tydings, thou Tommy o'
the Potts,
Thou art so full of courtesie?
Thou hast slain some of thy fellows fair,
Or wrought to me some villany.
I have slain none of my fellows fair,
Nor wrought to you no villany,
But I have a love in Scotland fair,
And I fear I shall lose her with poverty.
O Christ you save, dear master, he said,
And Christ you save and see!
140
145
For God's love, master, come read me this letter,
Which my true love hath sent to me.
His master took this letter in hand,
And looked on it with his eye,
In faith, I am fain, my man, he said,
As thou hast a lady so true to thee.
For thou'st have forty pounds a week,
In gold and silver thou shalt row,
150
1 The copy of 1657 varies here very much from the later
Forty pounds a week," perhaps meant pounds
texts.
Scots.
310
THE LOVERS QUARREL
And Harvy Town I will give thee,
As long as thou intend'st to wooe.
Thou'st have forty of thy fellows fair,
And forty horses to go with thee,
Forty of the best Spears I have,
And I myself in thy company.
Now Christ reward you, dear master, he said,
For the goodwill you bear to me;
But if Jesus Christ stand on my side,
My own hands shall set her free.
155
160
God be with you, master, said Tommy o' th' Potts,
Now Jesus Christ you save and see ;
If ever I come alive again,
Staid the Wedding it shall be.
O god be your speed, thou Tommy o' th' Potts,
Thou art well proved for a man,
See never a drop of blood thou spil,
Nor confound yonder Gentleman.¹
166
170
See that some truce with him you take,
And appoint a place of liberty;
Let him provide him as well as he can,
As well provided thou shalt be.
175
But when he came to Gilforth-green,
And there had walkt a little aside,
There he was ware of Lord Phenix come,
And Lady Rosamond his bride.
180
Away by the bride then Tommy o' th' Potts went,
But never a word to her did say,
Till that he came Lord Phenix before,
He gave him the right time of the day.
1 Old eds. have yonder Gentleman confound.
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 311
O welcome, welcome, thou Tommy o' th' Potts,
Thou serving-man of low degree,
How doth thy Lord and Master at home,
And all the Ladies in that countrey?
My Lord and Master is in good health,
I trust, since that I did him see;
Will you walk with me to an out-side,
Two or three words to talk with me?
186
190
You are a noble man, said Tom,
And born a Lord in Scotland free,
You may have ladies enough at home,
And never take my Love from me.
Away, away, thou Tommy o' th' Potts,
Thou serving-man, stand thou aside;
It is not a serving-man this day,
That can hinder me of my bride.
If I be a Serving-man, said Tom,
And you a Lord of high degree,
A spear or two with you I'le run,
Before I'le lose her cowardly.
Appoint a place, I will thee meet,
Appoint a place of liberty,
For there I'le lose my life so sweet,
Or else my Lady I'le set free.
195
200
206
On Gilforth-green I will thee meet,
No man nor boy shall come with me,
As I am a man, said Tommy o' th' Potts,
I'le have as few in my company.
210
312
THE LOVERS QUARREL
And thus staid the marriage was,
The bride unmarried went home again,
Then to her Maids fast did she laugh,
And in her heart she was full fain.
My Maidens all, the Lady said,
That ever wait on me this day,
215
Now let us all kneel down,
And for Tommy o' th' Potts let us all pray.
220
If it be his fortune the better to win,
As I trust to God in Trinity,
Ile make him the flower of all his kin,
For the young Lord Arundel he shall be.
¶ The Third Part.
WHEN Tommy o' th' Potts came home again, 225
To try for his love he had but a week,
For sorrow, God wot, he need not care,
For four days that he fell sick.
With that his Master¹ to him came,
Says, pray thee, Tommy o' th' Potts, tell me if
thou doubt,
Whether thou hast gotten thy gay Lady,
Or thou must go thy love without.
O Master, yet it is unknown,
Within these two days well try'd it must be,
He is a Lord, I but a Serving Man,
I fear I shall lose her with poverty.
1 In ed. 1657 he is called Lord Jockey.
230
236
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 313
Prethee, Tommy o' th' Potts, get thee on thy feet,
My former promises kept shall be ;
As I am a Lord in Scotland fair,
Thou'st never lose her with poverty.
For thou'st have the half of my Lands a year,
And that will raise thee many a pound,
Before thou shalt out-braved be,
240
Thou shalt drop Angels with him on the ground.¹
I thank you, Master, said Tommy pots,
Yet there is one thing of you I would fain,
If that I lose my Lady sweet,
How I'st restore your goods again?
If that thou win the Lady sweet,
Thou mayst well forth thou shalt pay me,
If thou losest thy Lady, thou losest enough:
Thou shalt not pay me one penny.
You have thirty horses in one close,
245
250
You keep them all both frank and free,
Amongst them all there's an Old White horse
This day would set my Lady free;
255
That is an old Horse 2 with a cut tail,
Full sixteen years of age is he;
If thou wilt lend me that old horse,
Then could I win her easily.
That's a foolish opinion, his Master said,
And a foolish opinion thou tak'st to thee;
Thou'st have a better than ever he was,
Though forty pounds more it cost me.
260
1 This is a familiar incident in the "Blind Beggar of
Bednal Green," of which no early impression is known.
277 'Gray Nag" in the copy of 1657.
314
THE LOVERS QUARREL
O, your choice horses are wild and tough,
And little they can skill of their train;
If I be out of my saddle cast,
They are so wild they'l ne'r be tain.
Thou'st have that horse, his Master said,
If that one thing thou wilt tell me.¹
Why that horse is better than any other,
265
270
I pray thee, Tommy o' th' Potts, shew thou to me.
That horse is old, of stomach bold,
And well can he skill of his train,
If I be out of my saddle cast,
He'l either stand still, or turn again.
Thou'st have the horse with all my heart,
And my Plate Coat of silver free,
An hundred men to stand at thy back,
To fight, if he thy Master be.
I thank you, Master, said Tommy o' th' Potts,
That proffer is too good for me,
I would not for ten thousand pounds
Have man or boy in my company.
275
280
God be with you, Master, said Tommy o' th' Potts
Now as you are a man of Law,
One thing let me crave at your hand,
Let never a one of my fellows knaw :
For if that my fellows they did wot,
Or ken of my extremity,
Except you keep them under a lock,
Behind me I am sure they would not be.
1 Old ed. has me tell.
286
290
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 315
But when he came to Gilforth-green,
He walked¹ hours two or three,
There he was ware of Lord Phenix come,
And four Men in his company.
235
You have broken your vow, said Tommy o' th' Potts,
That vow which you did make to me,
You said you would bring neither man nor boy,
And now you have brought more then 2 or 3. 300
These are my men, Lord Phenix said,
Which every day do wait on me;
If any of these dare proffer to strike,
I'le run my spear through his body.
I'le run no race now, said Tommy o' th' Potts, 305
Except now this may [granted] be,
If either of us be slain this day,
The other shall forgiven be.
I'le make that vow with all my heart,
My men shall bear witnesse with me;
And if thou slay me here this day,
In Scotland worse belov'd thou never shalt be.
They turn'd their horses thrice about,
To run the race so eagerly;
Lord Phenix he was fierce and stout,
And ran his spear thorow Tommy's thigh.
310
315
He bore him out of the Saddle fair,
Down to the ground so sorrowfully.
For the loss of my life I do not care,
But for the loss of my fair Lady.
1 Waited-Ed. 1677.
320
316 THE LOVERS QUARREL
Now for the losse of my Lady sweet,
Which once I thought to have bin my wife,
I pray thee, Lord Phenix, ride not away,
For with thee I would end my life.
Tommy o' th' Potts was but a Serving-man,
But yet he was a Doctor good,
He laid his hand upon his wound,
And quickly he did stanch the blood.¹
He leapt into his saddle again,
The blood in his body began to warm,
He away by Lord Phenix body glow'd,
And ran him quite thorow the arm.
325
330
Mr.
1 This is an allusion to the cure of wounds by charms,
which is not extinct. The same kind of charm is employed
for the staunching of blood arising from any cause.
Halliwell, in his "Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales,"
1849, p. 210, furnishes the subjoined example:-
"Jesus was born in Bethlem,
Baptized in the river Jordan;
The water was wild and wood,
But he was just and good ;
God spake, and the water stood,
And so shall now thy blood."
And a little farther on (p. 213), the same writer cites from
Scot's "Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584," the following:
"In the bloud of Adam death was taken,
In the bloud of Christ it was all to-shaken,
And by the same bloud I doo thee charge,
That thou doo runne no longer at large."
Vervain was supposed to have great virtue in staunching
blood; but it was necessary to exercise particular care in
gathering it. This herb is said, however, by Macer (Her-
ball, ed. Wyer, n. d. 8vo, sign. O 2 verso) to be of pecu-
liar efficacy as an antidote to poison and a nostrum for the
tertian ague.
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 317
He bore him out of his Saddle fair,
Down to the ground most sorrowfully;
Says, prethee, Lord Phenix, rise up and fight, 335
Or yield my Lady unto me.
I'le yield the lady unto thee;
My arm no more my spear will guide;
It was never better likely to prove,
To hold a poor serving-man from his bride. 340
Seeing you say so much, said Tommy o' th' Potts,
I will not seem your butcher to be,
But I will come and stanch your blood,
If any thing you will give me.
As he did stanch Lord Phenix blood,
Lord! in his heart he did rejoyce;
I'le not take the Lady from you thus,
But of her you'st have another choice.
Here is a lane of two miles long,
At either end we set will be,
Wee'l set the Lady in the midst,
And her own choice shall set her free.
If thou'l do so, Lord Phenix said,
Thou'll save my credit and honour high:
Chuse whether I get her or go without,
Forty pounds I will give thee.
1
But when they in that lane were ¹ set,
The wit of a woman for to prove,
1 Old ed. has was,
345
350
366
318
THE LOVERS QUARREL
By the faith of my body, the Lady said,
Then Tommy o' th' Potts must needs have
his love.
Towards Tommy o' th' Potts the Lady did hie,
To get on behind him hastily;
Nay stay, nay stay, Lord Phenix said,
Better proved it shall be.
Stay you with your Maidens here,
In number fair they are but three ;
Tom Potts and I will go behind yonder wall,
That one of us two be proved to dye.
But when they came behind the wall,
The one came not the other nie,
For the lord Phenix had made a vow,
860
306
370
That with Tommy o' th' Potts never would
fight he.¹
O give me this choice, Lord Phenix said,
To prove whether true or false she be,
And I will go to the Lady fair,
And tell her Tommy o' th' Potts slain is he.
When he came from behind the wall,
With his face all bloody as it might be,
O Lady sweet, thou art my own :
For Tommy o' th' Potts slain is he.2
376
380
1 Old ed. has he never would fight. Even nigh and he are
not very good rhymes, unless we presume the old spelling of
nigh (nie) to have been pronounced nee.
2 Slain have I-Utterson's copy.
OR ROSAMOND OF SCOTLAND 319
Now slain have I Tommy o' th' Potts,
And given him death-wounds two or three ;
O lady sweet, thou art my own :
Of all loves wilt thou live with me?
If thou hast slain Tommy o' th' Potts,
And given him death-wounds two or three,
I'le sell the state of my fathers Lands,
But hanged shall Lord Phenix be.
With that the Lady fell in a swound:
385
For a grieved woman, God wot, was she; 390
Lord Phenix he was ready then
To take her up so hastily.
O Lady sweet, stand thou on thy feet,
Tommy o' th' Potts alive this day may be ;
I'le send for thy Father Lord Arundel,
And he and I the wedding will see;
I'le send for thy Father, Lord Arundel,
And he and I the Wedding will see;
If he will not maintain you well,
Both Lands and livings you'st have of me.
I'le see this Wedding, Lord Arundel said,
Of my daughter of looks ¹ that is so fair,
Seeing the matter will be no better,
305
400
Of all my lands Tommy o' th' Potts shall be
heir.
With that the Lady began for to smile:
For a glad woman, God wot, was she,
1 Ed. 1677, daughters luck. Not in ed. 1657.
406
320
THE LOVERS QUARREL
Now all my Maids, the Lady said,
Example you may take by me.
Now,¹ all you Ladies of high degree,
And maides that married yet would be,
Marry no man for goods or lands,
410
Unless you love him faithfully.
For I had a lover of my own, she said,
At Strawberry Castle there liv'd he :
I'le change his name from Tommy o' th' Potts, 416
And the young Earl of Arundell now he
shall be.
1 These two concluding stanzas are taken from the ed. of
1657.

INDEX OF PRINCIPAL MATTERS
AND GLOSSARY

VOL. II.
X
:

INDEX OF PRINCIPAL MATTERS
AND GLOSSARY
'. A large number of words are used here, owing to the exi-
gencies of alliterative verse, in an unusual sense or with a
forced meaning. Some, which I do not understand, are
inserted in their order without glosses. Many of the
forms shew, as usual, French influence; many are com-
mon to the North, although very imperfectly glossed by
Halliwell.
a, one.
Ac, and.
Acton, a vest or jacket worn
with armour, perhaps when
the latter was not lined or
quilted.
Acward, backward; whence
the modern awkward.
Aduertance, i. 234.
Affeiris, appertains.
Again, for back again.
Eger, 1. 2320.
Sir
Agast, perhaps we should
read was agast, ii. 132.
Agramand or Agramante, i.
304. Former ed. reads
Aygoland.
Air, aire, or are, before.
Air, early.
Alexander, Robert, Advocate,
of Edinburgh, his lost Scotish
poem of The Earl of Errol's
Testament (circâ 1541).
Almry, cupboard.
Als sib as seif is to ane rid-
dil, prov., i. 143.
Alswa, also.
Alswth, as soon as.
Amadas (in copy of 1663,
Emedus), ii. 254.
Amorat, enamoured.
Anerly, only.
Anew, enough.
Angeos, Anjou.
Angus Dufe, ii. 8.
Anournit, adorned.
Anterouss, adventurous.
Apeched, impeached.
A per C, A per se, a phonetic
form.
Apert, acknowledged.
Apparand, old copy, and
Parand, ii. 304. But the
writer refers, not to Lord
Arundel, but to the lady's
suitor, Lord Phenix.
Apply, form or condition.
Are, before.
Ark, large chest for keeping
corn or meal.
Armour transmitted
heirloom, ii. 136.
as an
Armouring, armour. It is
very noticeable that in 1.
323
324
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
254 the Reeve asks his guests
where their swords are when
they have entered his pre-
mises, clearly as a precaution
against a surprise; but they
aver that they wear none.
The inquiry almost suggests
that they wore cloaks, be-
neath which side-weapons
might be hidden.
Armyllier, almond-tree.
Arthur, ii. 15.
Arthur, Awntyrs of, i. 1-42.
This is one of the incidents
belonging to the semi-my-
thical romance so familiar
to us all, but of which the
true origin appears to be
misunderstood. There are
many clues, which have not
hitherto been followed.
Askryede, i. 90.
Assalyed, assoiled, absolved.
"As ye have brew'd,
shall ye drink," prov., ii.
197.
At, that.
Ather, either.
Attour, round.
Aught, owned.
Auntyr, adventure.
Avenaunt, fair, comely.
Avenauntlich, beautifully.
Averoyne, southernwood.
Avourti, adultery.
Awnaris, owners.
Awntyr, adventure.
Bade, abode.
Bag-pipe, i. 193.
Baine, bound.
SO
Bairnis, bairns, in the sense
of lads or children, a sur-
viving Northern pronuncia-
tion, i. 222.
Bairnlie, boyish.
Bakenede, dried up.
Bakheir, second.
Bald, strong, like the flame
of a fire, i. 223.
Baliol, Edward, i. 320.
John, i. 319.
Balletis, ballads, but used in
the sense of poetical descrip-
tions, i. 304.
Balye, jurisdiction, strictly of
a baillie or bailiff; a baili-
wick. The writer confers,
we see throughout, on the
lady the attributes and ap-
pointments of the life by
which he was surrounded ;
gives her hounds and a.
hunting - horn, &c., except
where he borrows from other
romances.
Band, bond, engagement.
Bandown, i. 118.
Bankowre, bench.
Barborane, barberry.
Barbour, barbarous.
Barcelet, a species of bow.
Bard, ? bawd, i. 187.
Baret, grief.
Bargan, contention.
Barlays, perhaps Barclays, i.
99.
Barnage, for baronage, rank,
descent.
Baryanes, barriers.
Bass (The), i. 193.
Batcheler, apparently in the
sense of a younger brother
or cadet, ii. 131.
Battallouss, combative.
Baywer, Bavaria.
Bealme, Bohemia.
Beaume, in the old copy
Beaune, Bohemia, a region.
of which the early roman-
cists made a somewhat free
use as the scene of the
exploits of their characters,
and of the situation of which
they seem to have had a
rather vague knowledge.
Begouth, began.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
325
Beild, protection.
Bein, fair.
Beit, better, improve.
Bekire, fight, i.q. bicker, lite-
rally to dispute.
Bell, v., the cry of a hart, more
especially at rutting time.
Bellamy, "bustuoss bellamy,"
a boisterous uproar, ii. 12.
Bentyas, ii. xxi.
Benwart, i. 220.
Bere, noise.
Beriall, crystal.
Beryde, bered, cried.
Beryl, rock - crystal, i.q.
beriall.
Beryn, bairn, child.
Besines, business, pains.
Bet, better.
Betaught, gave up, surren-
dered or bequeathed.
Betell, betray.
Be that, against the time that.
Bewe, bow.
Be yon wodsyde, a tune or
song, i. 193.
Biblo, a lost story, i. 127, note.
Bigging, building.
Biledame, beldame.
Bink, benk, bench.
Birnie, cuirass.
Bite, penetrate, as a weapon.
Black and bla, black and
blue. This phrase, now
common, occurs in the
Merry Wives of Windsor,
where the supposed fairies
pinch Falstaff.
Blan or blanne, pret. of
blin, cease.
Blasnit or basnit ledder, pro-
bably tanned leather.
Blate, n.s., coward, recreant,
braggart.
Blatter, blather, drivel.
Blaunderers, i. 48.
Bleirblowane, i. 209.
Blends, ? curdles.
Blenke, look.
Blewe, ? sounded a horn, i. 90;
for comp. i. 39.
Blifullest, merriest; perhaps
for blissfullest.
Blonke, steed.
Blycht, i. 170, 173.
Blyn, cease.
Blynd Harry.
"The nakit
blynd Harry," the simple or
mere blind Harry, whom
we apprehend to be the
writer of these verses, as-
cribed by Laing to Dunbar,
and by others to Lyndsay,
ii. 12.
Bob, bunch or spray.
Bodden, ii. 133.
Bodword, message.
Bodyvincant castle, i. 209.
Bold, sure.
Bone fay, good faith.
Bongo, ?i.q. Bungay, i. xxi.
Bonty, bontie, goodness.
Books of Romances, ii. 150.
Bore's head, i. 258. In the
account of the entertain-
ment given by John the
Reeve to his guests, the
writer has outraged proba-
bility and propriety alike.
He has simply collected the
names of all the dishes then
in vogue, or found by him
mentioned in other fictions;
and some, as the elk, with
which he would hardly meet
anywhere.
Borw, borough, city.
Bouk, "mony a bouk," i.
122.
Bourd, bord, jest.
Braggat, bragot, a kind of
mead.
Braikane buss, bracken bush,
ii. 22.
Braise, embrace.
Brandis, logs.
Brawndeche, brandish.
Bread of main, fine loaves.
326
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
Brechame, the collar of a work-
horse.
Bred, broad.
Breid, breadth.
Breme, burst forth.
Bremor, King of Spain, ii.
82-84, &c. In 1. 198, Percy
reads: King Bremor's
beard; but beard does not
rhyme to board, and the
froth from King Estmere's
horse's mouth would be
hardly likely to be within.
reach of Bremor's face, al-
though it might be so of the
sword at his side or beside
him.
Brent, ? high-arched.
Breny, hauberk, cuirass.
Bretayne, Brittany or Wales.
Brim, fierce, also brem, but
usually employed in the
sense of sexual keenness.
Brist, burst.
Britouns, i. 48.
Broake, broach.
Broche, v., to spur.
Brochis, brooches, clasps.
Brodit, pricked or gored.
Broket, torch.
Brooked, held in his hands;
more literally,
gether, ii. 131.
drew
drew to-
In the next
but one page, 1. 80, we have
brook in the sense of appro-
priate.
Browny, i. 295.
Bruen, brewed, made.
Brydyll renye, rein of a
bridle.
Brynt, burnished.
Bryttaned, carved or cut up,
Fr. decouper.
Bud, buds, ? boot, boots, pro-
fit, i. 147, 165.
Burely, bowerly.
Burliche, bulky.
Burne, byrne, i.q. beryn, bairn
or barne.
Burn grenge, ? incendiary, i.
187.
Bushment, ambush.
Buskening, preparation.
Busteous, boisterous.
But, without.
By buke and by belle. Awntyrs
of Arthur, iii. 1. 4 (vol. i.
p. 6). The phrase appears
to be used as an assevera-
tion, and is probably bor-
rowed from the ecclesiastical
formula.
Byggit, built.
By-lave (in old copy by the
lave), immediately, instan-
taneously, Sir Eger, 1. 2784.
Byke, nest, especially a bees'
nest.
Byre, ?i.q. bier, here used in
the sense of a pot, i. 219.
By-teche, bequeath.
By-twyxen, between.
By-went, bygone.
Cace or case, accident.
Call, i. 237. Apparently in
the use of sell by cry.
Calsay, literally causeway or
causey, pavement or foot-
way.
Campion, champion.
Can, began.
Canal-bone, collar-bone.
Candle - light, ii. 157; Sir
Eger, 1. 929. This story
contains several points of
insight into early Scotish
domestic manners and en-
tertainment.
Cantel, right upper corner of
the shield.
Cantil or cantle, a corner, a
portion.
Capill, a horse.
Carhonde, left hand.
Carlage, ? stout.
Carlisle, i. 40–41.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
327
Carpit, spoke.
Chaffery, wares.
Catchipolles, serjeants.
Chaip, escape.
Chalmer, chamber.
Chalmerlane, chamberlain.
Chandlours, candlesticks.
Chapped, knocked.
Charlemagne, i. 212 et seq.
Charlis the Mane, for Charle-
magne, i. 222.
Charuwé, caraway, i. 49.
Chasselett, covered dais.
Chast, chased.
Chaucer, i. 179, 210.
Chauffry, furnace.
Chawffen, to warm.
Checkmate, equal.
Chefe, chef or top.
Chesse, chase.
Chestein, chestnut. The pas-
sage in the Pystyl of Swete
Susan (i. 48-49), where this
and other trees, flowers,
and fruits are enumerated,
may perhaps contribute to
illustrate the condition of
horticulture and arbori-
culture in the North of
England and Scotland, in
the fourteenth century.
Cheve, i. 49.
Cheverol, i. 49.
Childering, children.
Chibolle, onion.
Chive, i. 49.
Cholle, jowl.
Chollet, i. 49.
Chop, shop.
Chouwet, i. 49.
Christened with candles and
wax, i. 17; with salt, ii.
197.
Chyld of the chalmer, groom
of the chamber.
Clam, climbed.
Clamper kynnis, i. 114.
Clap, moment.
Clap, embrace or fondle.
Clarschot, ? i.q. claricord, a
sort of spinet, ii. 22.
Cleas, tablecloths.
Clergy, knowledge of Scrip-
ture.
Clewes, cliffs or rocks.
Cock-boat, ii. 228.
Cod, cushion.
Coft, gained by exchange ;
perhaps i.q. copt.
Coig, pail or trough.
Coinzie, ? mint, coinage.
Cokadame, i. 295.
Cok craw thou quhill day, i.
225.
Collation, conference.
Coppeit, i. 202.
Copull, cape or cloak.
Cornar, coroner in the sense of
a crown regent, i. 203.
Corn-fed, i.
277.
Corynoch, a war-cry.
Cose, ii. 146.
Cost, side; old Fr. coste.
Coude, wax.
Could, imperf. of can, with
infin. verb. Sir Eger, 1.
364.
Counter-cast, a term in sword
exercise or in the use of that
weapon in fight.
Counterfutit, counterfeited or
imitated.
Courch, ii. 171.
Courcher,
kercher.
Fr. couvre - chef,
Court, party or retinue, ii.
204.
Courtingis, curtains.
Cover, recover.
Cow (a) of birks, sprays or
boughs to keep off the flies,
i. 144.
Cowpland, Coupland, North-
umberland, ii. 2. The re-
cital of names of places,
as well as the whole of the
cast and phraseology of
Lichtoun's Dreme, where
328
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
this word occurs, are fan-
tastic and inconsequent.
Cragorth, ii. 14.
Crap, pl. of creep.
"He
crap together."—Sir Eger,
1. 133..
Crapoté, i. 90.
Creillis, wicker baskets.
Crop and ground, top and
bottom.
Cruel, a word which occurs
in the Awntyrs of Arthur,
in association with kene and
curtayse. It appears to sig-
nify "relentless against an
enemy in fight."
Cumerars, encumberers.
Cumit littill gud of gaddering,
prov., i. 185.
Cũnand, covenant.
Cüningis, coneys.
Cunnand, knowing.
Cure, care.
Curs, imprecate, pray to.
Custumar, exciseman.
Da, doe.
Dandring, adj., used of a
Daa, due.
drum, i. 122.
of ding, to
Dang, pret
strike.
Dangerous, unfortunate.
Dantit, daunted, browbeaten.
Dare, i.q. dere (v.).
Darth, dearth.
Dease, dais, table.
Decay, fall.
Decoir, beautify.
Dede, dearth.
Deden, i. 184.
Defoul'd, mutilated. Perhaps
we should read deflower'd.
Deid, death.
Deliver, smart or spruce.
Very deliver of thy weed."
-Sir Eger, ii. 133.
Deliverlie, nimbly or sharply.
Dere, adj. Halliwell and
Robson say noble; more
probably, dread or formid-
able, and noble or honour.
able in a secondary sense.
Dere, v., hurt, disable.
Derfe, strong.
Derne, secret.
Des, dais.
Destroy'd, overcame.
Dew, dawed or dawned.
Dirdy, ? same as dirdam, up-
roar, I. 90.
Dirray, i. 191.
Disjune, breakfast.
Disseverit, separated,
Ditoyne, i. 49.
Dois, does.
Dome, judgment.
Donet, Donatus, a grammar.
Dosouris, dorsers (seats with
backs) or tapestry.
Dout, out, quasi do out.
Doutles, undoubted.
Do way, an exclamation, quasi,
stop that!
Down, dun (in reference to the
colour of a deer), ii. 195.
Drawing, attractive.
Dre, suffer.
Dreadure, fear.
Droupur, bring low or down.
Dublaris, ? dishes with covers.
Ducheperes, nobles, corrupted
from douze pairs, the Twelve
Peers of France, the name
and subject of a celebrated
series of romance-poems.
Dugeper, comp. Dudeperis.
Dulce, sweet.
Dule, sympathetic regret.
Durandlie, i. 216, ?long.
Effeir, n.s., appurtenance, ii.
196.
Eglamoir of Artherus, Sir Eg-
lamour of Artois, i. 198.
Eirand, errand.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
329
Eird, earth.
Eirdly Paradise, ii. 275.
Eith, easy.
Ellwand, an ell measure or
rod.
Elrich, dreadful.
Else, already.
Eme, uncle.
Emmot, emmet, ant.
En, in.
Enchaip,? offer for sale, i. 226.
Enchaunt, seduce.
Enchief, achieve.
Endorred, glazed, a term of
ancient cookery. See Haz-
litt's Cookery Books, 1886, p.
198.
Engreled, engrailed.
Entress, entrance.
Errols (Earl of) Testament,
a poem, by Robert Alexander
(about 1541), i. xxi.
Es, is.
Estmoreland, King of, i. xxi.
Every note in vperis nek, an
early Scotish tune, i. 194.
Evil spirits or demons men-
tioned, 295.
Face, appearance.
Faine, fawn.
Fair, fare or movement.
Fair-calling, affable or com-
plaisant, ii. 163.
Falliswe, follows.
Fallow, reduce, in the sense of
losing colour and weight.
Fancies, amorous impulses.
Fare, way, journey.
Farleis, i.q. ferlys.
Farlye, i.q. ferly, wonder.
Farne, fared.
Farrand, faring; well-farrand,
well-to-do.
Fau, ?fallow.
Fault, "in my fault," i. 143.
Fechtine, i. 217.
Feddrem, ii. 2.
Feeare, fire.
Feid, i.q. feud.
Feil or fele, many.
Fele, many.
Fell, much.
Felle, moor.
Fere, mate.
Ferle, v., to wonder; ferleit,
wondered.
Ferlifull, wonderful.
Ferly, wonder.
Fermyson, close time for the
male deer.
Fernyeres, former years.
Fetterit-lok, fetterlock.
Fevir cartane, quartan ague.
Fewte, lack, want; Fr. faute.
Fiche, fix.
Fidder, 128 hundredweight.
Firemouth, i. 295.
Fivesum, some five, about five.
Flaik, hurdle.
Flanders coffers, trunks of
Flemish workmanship, of
which many still survive in
collections, i. 135.
Flandria or Flanders, the
name, according to the text,
where it occurs, derived from
the first syllable of Flan-
mailie and the last of Adria!
i. 205.
Flane, arrow.
Fleand, flying.
Florent of Albanie. See Haz-
litt's Warton, iii. 37.
Florentine, Prince, ii. 220.
Flowers, i. 487-8.
Fludder, ?flutter, i. 156.
Flyte or flyt, dispute, gene-
rally in a light or semi-serious
manner.
Fo, ?i.q. fode, quasi fellow,
but more usually found with
freely, in the sense of a well-
bred or well-nurtured person,
i. 198.
Foirtop, crown of the head,
ii. 1.
330
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
Fonge, v., take, lay hold of.
Forcely, forcibly or violently.
Fore grantschir, great-grand-
father.
Foreshare, ii. 171, apparently
a corruption.
For owttyn, without.
Forres, co. Moray, an ancient
historical site, ii. 154.
The
copy of 1711 reads "To the
King's forrest."
Forth, ii. 14.
Forthynketh, regretteth.
Foryield, requite.
Found, supported or kept.
Four-footed Dog of Norway,
a tale, i. xxi.
Fowll of bellis fulfill, i. 193.
Fra, from the moment that.
Fraine or Frane, inquire.
Franche hude, French hood;
see Hazlitt's " Handbook,'
1867, p. 124; i. 114.
Freake, fellow, i.q. freke.
Freeledge, privilege.
"
Freke, frekis, man, men,
fellows.
Fresone, a Friesland horse.
Fresse or fres, doubt.
Frolo or Frollo, a governor of
Gaul under the Romans.
Frote, chafe.
Frowte, i. 279 ? i.q. frote,
rub, chafe, or an error for
flowte.
Fruits and fruit-trees, i. 47-49.
Frydde, frith, enclosed wood.
Funstane, font-stone.
Fure, pret. of fare, went,
fared in the sense of sailing,
a maritime figure.
Furlet, a measure containing
one-fourth of a boll.
Furme, form or bench.
Fur[w], furrow.
Fusioun, foison, abundance.
Fute-braid sawing, corn suffi-
cient to sow a foot-breadth.
Fyn M'Kowle, ii. 13.
Fynit, refined or coined.
Fyvesum, some five, i. 153.
Gaist, guest.
Gaistning, i.q. guestning,
entertainment.
Galias, ? Gaul or Galicia, the
latter the scene of the ex-
ploits of a hero of romance,
Ponthus of Galice, whose
adventures, founded on the
older Gest of King Horn,
were published in 1511.
Sir Eger, 1. 2278.
Galleron, Sir, i. 41.
Ganestand, gainsay, resist.
Gardening, i. 47-49.
Gardings, gardens, ii. 274.
Garnette, pomegranate.
Garrace (The), the name of a
town mentioned in Sir Eger,
ii. 207.
Garsome,
literally earnest
penny, hence money.
Gartane, garter.
Garthis, girths.
Gaste, ghost, spirit.
Gawayne, ii. 15.
Gawin, gain.
Gayllarde, gay or fine fellow.
Gaynour or Waynour, Queen
Geneviève, wife of King
Arthur.
Geck, coquet with a mistress,
perhaps i.q. keik, ii. 25,
220.
Gedling, lad, stripling.
Gell, open, as a wound.
Gerse, pret. of gar, i.q. garsed
or garred, made, caused.
Gerson, gersonis, treasure.
Get leif, take leave.
Gewes, gazes or gaze.
Gill, Gillian, Ralph
collier's wife.
the
Gleads, falcons, more usually
kites.
Gled, kite.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
331
Gledis, live embers.
Gloppyn, wail.
Glore, Fr. gloire, glory or
vainglory, boast.
Golfand, charging, i.q. golfing.
Golfing, driving, i. 204.
Golk (The) of Maryland, ii. 22.
Gome, man, fellow.
Good deene, good evening.
Gool, gules, red, ii. 133.
Governing, housekeeping.
Gowlis, gules, the heraldic
term. Comp. Gool.
Gow Makmorne, ii. 14.
Graid, prepared.
Graith, girth.
Gramarye, literally grammar,
hence learning, particularly
of an occult character.
Granand, groaning.
Grandefer (in copy of 1663,
Gandifer), Great-Sword, ii.
244.
Grane, groan.
Grant, yield.
Grassum, i. 247.
Grat, pret. of grete, weep.
Graythest, readiest.
Greatsumly, greatly.
Green, lawn.
Grete, cry.
Griselde, the name of Sir
Gawayne's mare. It had
been familiarised by Chau-
cer not long before. It is
perhaps curious that it
should so soon have been
employed in this way.
Gryce, pig.
Gryselle, parcel-grey or griz-
zelled.
Grythe, peace, respite.
Guard, multitude, ii. 230.
Guckit, i. 148.
Guesting, entertaining.
Gultus, guilt.
Gunwald, i. 189. This and
the other proper names ap-
pear to be fantastic inven-
tions on the part of the
writer.
Guss, goose.
Gy, guide.
Gyane, Guienne.
Habyd, dwell, stay.
Hackney, roadster.
Haddington, ii. 20.
Hailsed, embraced round the
neck, saluted.
Hal, ? old.
Hald my hand, a common
form of oath, i. 156.
Hallane, neck.
Haluendeile, half.
Hap, (i.) hop; (ii.) wrap up.
Harberie, harbour.
Hare, hoar.
Harmsay, ii. 221.
Harness, armour.
Hate, hot, angry.
Hathels, i.q. Athels, nobles.
Hawe or hay, a dance,
270.
Hawr, azure.
Hecht, promised.
Heck, rack or stall, i. 9, next.
Heckney, stable, where the
hecks or racks were.
Hecks, stalls for horses con-
tiguous to the house.
Heef, heaved.
Heich, high.
Heilse, i.q. halse, embrace.
Heor, heore, or hor, their.
Herbergages, lodgings,
auberges.
Fr.
Hething, i.q. heting, pro-
mise.
Hethyn, hence.
Hett, promise.
set
Heurodis, Eurydice. In one
place the writer or copyist
of Kyng Orfeo has
down Meroudys-evidently
a clerical error. The com-
mencement of this poem
332
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
reminds us of a passage in
Tennyson's Locksley Hall.
Tennyson was a transcriber
of other men's ideas to a
greater extent than has been
generally supposed.
Hewmond, yeoman, ii. 62.
Hide, skin.
Hie-kinned, highly connected.
Highed, hied.
Hillynge, covering.
Himsyne, himself.
Hine, hence.
Hint,? same as hente, hold.
Hird, shepherd.
Hirdy-girdy, noise, i. 190.
Hirnis, corners.
Hobbit schone, clouted shoes.
Hog, a sheep of two years.
Hoise, hose.
Hom, quasi heom, them.
Hope, expect,
Hore, grace, mercy.
Horlore hust, i. 196,
Hornpipe, ii. 1.
Hoved, stopped. Old copy,
hover'd. The text of 1711
is full of these slips of the
press, which I have done
my best to correct, so as to
restore the narrative to what
may have been its original
state as far as possible.
Howlat, owl, ii. 22.
Huifis, i. 232, loitered, loit-
erers.
Huit, i. 230.
Hulie, ? leisurely, ii. 171.
Hurde, hoard, i. 185.
Hurstis, woods.
Husband, husbandman.
Hussy, housewife.
Huster's Haulle, Court of
Husting.
Huwes, hills.
Hy, they.
Hye, hy, heo, she.
Hyne, hence.
Hyre, work, i. 219.
Ichil, I will.
Ilk-ane, each one.
Ill, incapable, unfit.
Impele, ii. 168.
Induellaris, indwellers.
Ingyne, wit.
Inn, house.
Innes or innis, houses.
In point, on the point.
In same, together. Old copy,
samin.
Into, in.
Inward, intimate.
Iralle, some kind of gem, i. 91.
Ireland, ii. 16.
Ischar, usher.
"I strake the nail upon the
head," prov., ii. 149.
Jak or jack, a doublet of fors
or defence.
Jetters, strutters.
Johne Balzoun, John Baliol,
i. 316.
Jolly, St. Julian.
Joly lemman dawis it not day?
a dance tune, i. 225.
Joly Martene wt a mok, i.
194.
Jonet of Touris, Jeannette of
Tours. David II. of Scot-
land married, firstly, Joanna,
daughter of Edward II. of
England, i. 319.
Jouk, give way.
July, Julian, i. 218. St. Julian
was the patron of pilgrims
and travellers. Comp. Jolly.
Jurye land, Judæa.
Just, joust.
Jwmlit, turned round, as a
churn, or as with a gimlet.
Kail, coleworts.
Kayre, return.
Keep, v., celebrate.
Kele, cool.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
333
Kelle, light raiment.
Keming, ?i.q. kembing, brew-
ing.
Kempe, originally champion,
hence knight or other armed
attendant, ii. 84. At p. 87,
1. 215, p. 88, 11. 265, 275,
we have kemperye in a simi-
lar sense.
Kenettis, hounds.
Kert, chart.
Kest, cast up, speculated.
Ketterels, Kestrels, birds of
prey.
Kever-cheve, couvre-chef, ker-
chief, literally, a covering
for the head.
Kid, ? a young deer, ii, 200.
Killogy, ii, 22.
Kin, kind of, i. 223.
Kinghorn, i. 177.
Kircaldy, i. 177.
Kirn, churn.
Kirnelde, battlemented.
Knag, clothes-peg.
Knave, servant, as a lover to
his mistress.
Krysmede, chrysomed.
Kyde, i.q. kid and ked,
known, famous.
Kyith, ?since, i. 219.
Kynd or kind, season.
Kyne, kind.
Kynryk, kingdom.
Kyrn, churn.
Laich, ii. 1.
Laid, (i.) laid or put down,
and so, offered ; (ii.) a load.
Laid-saddil, load-saddle.
Laif, rest.
Laird and lord, ii. 225.
Lake, fine white linen.
Landed men, landowners.
Lane, lie; probably the same
as leyne, v. to conceal.
Lang, Walter, a friar, i. 178.
Language, speech.
Lap, leaped.
on evinnyngis,
Lare, learning, scholarship.
Lasair, leisure.
Late laite
i. 193.
Lath, Leet.
Lath, loth.
Lattine, any foreign language
unintelligible to an ordinary
person.
Lauchful, loyal.
Launches (copy of 1663,
Lances) by bounds, ii. 257.
See Halliwell, v. Launch.
Launfal, Sir (in copy of 1663,
Lion dale), ii. 254.
Laurentius et Adelheidis, ii.
48-51.
Lauyst, lowest.
Laver, washing ewer.
Lawande or laund, a clear or
open area of grass-land in a
forest or wood. It is a term
applied to the grassy lanes.
intersecting a plantation.
Lawd, educated, learned.
Lawe, flame.
Lay, tale, or rather suit, where
the Elders ask Susanna
whether she will "on ure
lay learn.'
Layne, conceal.
Lede, speech.
Lede, "That kane no lawes
lede, perfaye," i. 102.
Lefe, dear.
Left, ceased.
Leid, folk.
Leidsterne, loadstar.
Lele, loyal, true.
Lemit, lighted.
Lemmon, leman, mistress.
Lend, remain.
Lesse, least.
Leuch, laughed.
Levand, living.
Lewd, educated.
Liberty, a place of, a place
free from intrusion, ii. 310.
334
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
Lidder, i.q. lither, yielding.
Lift, sky.
Light, quick.
Lightly, quickly. In old copy
of Sir Eger, 11. 1591-92 read:
"Then lightly said he, thou
shalt lie,
For that man shall I never see.'
Lilias, ii. 194, 210.
")
Limmaris, ill disposed, mis-
chievous persons.
Lincolne, i. 193.
Lincoln green, ii. 35.
Lindsay, i. 193.
Line, linen.
Ling, heath.
Lipper, leperous.
Lipperness, leprosy.
Lippin, i. 177.
Literature, learning.
Lither, shrewd, naughty.
Liueryes, i. 271. Perhaps bed-
linen.
Livring, delivery or livery.
Old copy, living.
Lobard, lubber.
Loch Lomond, ii. 13.
Lombardy.
The King of
France here cited as carrying
on war in Lombardy was
probably Francis I., and if so,
the composition of the pre-
sent poem must be assigned
to a somewhat later epoch-
perhaps about 1525, ii. 15.
Longcastell, Lancaster.
Loos or lose, renown or credit;
Lat. laus.
Lorere, laurel.
Lothian and Fife, ii, 17.
Louache or Lovach, i. 49.
Loughe, loch, lake.
Lover, in the sense of a wife
devoted to her husband, ii.
97.
Lowpis, ii. 2.
Lubwick, Lübeck.
Luggis, ears.
Lugit, lodged.
Luk, fortune, happiness.
Lulalow lute cok, i. 194.
Lumbard, money-lender.
Lustie, bonny.
Lyft, sky, more particularly
perhaps at dawn, i.q. lift,
suprâ.
Lyre, complexion.
Ma, more.
Mad, simple.
Made, mad.
Magnifying, making much of,
Maik, mate, consort.
Maikles, matchless.
Mais, i. 166.
Maist wynning, chief abode.
Maistr Pier de Couzate [Cow-
gate], i. 194.
Makilbur, Mecklenburg.
Malcomtosh, for Mackintosh,
i. 122, 124.
Malestrande, ? Maelstrom, as
Norway is mentioned, i.
195.
Malgratious, ungracious.
Man, must.
Manassing, menacing.
Mangery, feast.
Manreden, homage.
Mansworn, perjured.
Mase or a-mase, in astonish-
ment. The Lincoln MS. of
the Awntyrs of Arthure
reads (v. 1. 63), sergaunts
of mace; but the sense ap-
pears to require "followers
astonished at the spectacle."
Maskene fatt, mash tun.
Mast, most.
Master-man, leader.
Maye, literally maid, but used,
i. 272, for woman.
Mean, i.q. mene, speak, say.
Meate-fellow, i. 264.
Mele, speak, tell.
Melliager, Meleager, i. 198.
Memerede, murmured.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
335
Mene, speak.
Mene, recollect, and here used
in the sense of to recollect
himself, i. 219.
Mene or mynne, commemo-
rate.
Menet, moaned.
Mense or menske, demeanour.
Menynge, commemoration.
Menzie, men, company, ii. 9.
Merion, ? meridian,
Merrys, Mars.
Messe, messes, mass, masses.
Met, measured.
Meyse, muse, look thought-
fully, i.q. moysse.
Middelert, middle earth.
Milan work, steel armour, ii.
136.
Milk-syth, milk-strainer.
Milygant, i, 186,
Mingit, constructed.
Mirreitis, merits.
Misfarne, mismanaged.
Miss, fail.
Misse, mess, dish.
Mister, need.
Mittons, gloves, i. 273, 277.
Mobylls, moveables, property.
Mokrand, deceitful.
Montenans, duration.
Mood, anger, resentment.
Mote, might.
Mother's son, ii. 170.
Moyssed, i.q. mused, gazed
vacantly.
M'tere, martyr.
Multiply, enlarge.
Murle, literally to crumble,
but also to impair.
Murnant, mourning.
Mute, in a secondary or in-
direct sense for deliver one-
self of words.
corruption.
1229.
Possibly a
Sir Eger, 1.
My deir derling, i. 195.
My lufy lady sayde to mee.
This transition from the
third to the first person is
very noticeable in this piece,
i. 97.
Myster, mystery or craft.
Nade, had not.
Nait, need.
Navern, Navarre, ii. 22.
Naxty, filthy, loathsome.
Nearhand, nearly.
Neb or nebbe, literally nose,
but sometimes used for the
face.
Neif, nose, ii. 3.
Neigh, approach.
Neighed, bordered on.
Nek, button of a spindle.
Nicelie, delicately.
Nigre mansour, necromancer.
Nipschot, ii. 22.
Nolt hird, keeper of the black
cattle.
Nome, took.
Notes, nuts.
Nykke with nay, hit with a
refusal,
O, old, "O sede sawin," old-
said saws.
Occident of Ynd, East Indies.
Odly, by himself, above the
rest.
Of, out of.
O'fret or over-fretted, adorned.
Of new, anew.
Oftsyis, ofttimes.
Ökir, usury.
Olyas, Sir, ii. 151.
Onder serke, the bishop's white
cope, which John the Reeve
mistook for his shirt, i,
261.
On steer, astir.
O'rcame, overcome by faint-
ness, or else to overcome
or come to.
Orfaré, probably from the Fr.
336
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
orfeverie, gold-work or em-
broidery.
Orliance, Orleans, i. 194, 288.
Ostler, originally and more
properly hosteler; but when
Sir Eger was modernised,
the term had evidently be-
gun to acquire its modern
sense of a stable-man. See
Hazlitt's London
London Livery
Companies, 1892, pp. 117–
120.
Ote, wot, know.
Our, over.
Ourfute, Erfurt, i. 194, 288.
Ourhaild, covered over.
Ourharld, i. 195.
Ourslyd, stole over.
Ourthort, overthwart.
Outcept, except.
Outray, outrage, affront.
Outwith, outside.
Overby, overreach by a bribe.
Pace, Pasch, Easter.
Padell, a small wallet used' by
pedlars, and hence perhaps
the word.
Pail, Apulia or Puglia.
[Pain-]meyn, fine bread. The
three sops of pain-main
were probably slices of bread
soaked in wine or spirit.
Pallet, casque.
Pallias, Sir, ii. 153.
Pane, i. 223.
Pansis, i. 196.
Parage, here used for appear-
ance, presence. Sir Eger,
1. 255.
Parand, kinsman or kins-
woman.
Parrell, rival or equal.
Parsel, parsley, i. 49.
The
way in which flowers, vege-
tables, and trees are men-
tioned as growing side by
side is agreeable to the
apparent mediævaleconomy
in these matters. It was
not till the fifteenth century
that any systematic attempt
was made towards an
orderly distribution.
Passenep, parsnip, i. 49.
Passionate, suffering, painful.
Pat, pot.
Pauiot, i. 225.
Payetrelle, horse-furniture or
caparison, i.q. paitrure.
Peach, impugn.
Pechtis, ii. 22.
Pedder, pedlar, the bearer of
a ped.
Pek, a measure of a
boll.
Peletré, i. 49.
Pence, think, ruminate, from
Fr. penser.
Pensil, or pensile, the hanging
part of the helmet, ii. 135.
Perdiccas, in old copy Predi-
case, probably a vague use,
rhythmi causâ, of the name
of the Macedonian general,
ii. 254.
Perdony, i. 193.
Perelle, pearl.
Perqueir, i.q. Eng. perquire,
but here used as an adj., i.
163.
Perrè or perrye, pierrerie, pre-
cious stones, jewellery.
Pheer, fellow, companion.
Pith, strength.
Plain, to make, to strip.
Plainest, flattest.
Plantoyne, plantain.
Plastron, a musical instrument,
probably formed of shell.
Sir Eger, 1. 345.
Play, a public entertainment,
a joust.
Pleuch, plough.
Ploes, ploughs.
Ply, fold.
Poise, substance.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
337

Polans, the knee-piece in
armour.
Polk, poke, bag.
Pomeri, ? orchard.
Port, gate.
Pounds, i.e. it is presumed,
pounds Scots or livres =
francs.
Pourit, impoverished.
Poustè, power; Lat. potestas.
Powder of ginger, or powdered
ginger, i. 270.
Precellence, pre-eminence, ii.
274.
Preket, wax taper.
Preiss, quickly, promptly.
Prene, prune, i. 163.
Presans of blode, i. 104.
Press or prese, the conflict, the
crowd of fighters.
Prevene, anticipate.
Pristly, prestly, earnestly.
Privily, aside, speaking to
oneself.
Prys, charge.
Pryse [praise] at the parting,
prov., i. 218. It is also the
title of a lost play by Stephen
Gosson.
Pundler, pound-keeper, ii. 3.
Purveyed, provided.
Pusane, gorget.
Pykit, pitched.
Pystil, epistle, apparently em-
ployed in the sense of legend
or story. The account of
Susanna and the Elders
occurs in what are termed
the apocryphal additions to
the Book of Daniel.
Quaint, "to make me quaint,"
¿.e. acquainted, i. 117.
Queer, choir.
Quellys, kill.
Quest, inquest, panel.
Questede, hunted in full cry.
Quhider, whichever.
VOL. II.
Quhil, until.
Quhisling, whistling.
Quhittill, knife.
Quhorlorehusty, i. 196.
Quodlibet, problem.
Quoke, quaked.
Qweschyn, cushion,
Ra, roe.
Rache, scent-hound.
Raches, scenting-hounds.
Rade, afraid.
Raes, roes.
Raip, rope.
Raise, rose.
Ramessaye, Ramsey Abbey in
Huntingdonshire.
Rase, rose.
Rauf Coilzear, i. 212 et seq.
In one place Ralph speaks
of carrying coals to his cus-
tomers, but elsewhere he
refers to his trade in charcoal,
which was more probably
his business. See i, 228,
1. 337.
Rave, tore.
Raw, row.
Raykede,
speed.
proceeded with
Rechase, recheat, a hunting
term.
Recreate, i. 257.
Red, counselled.
Red, ? complexion. Sir Eger,
1. 1537.
The more usual
form is rode or rudde =
colour.
Reddour, violence.
Refrain, ?an error for frain,
inquire.
Reek, vapour.
Reid, reade, or rede, explain
or advise; pret. red.
Reird, ii. 275.
Reme, i. 204.
R[h]enish steedes, ii. 82-83, 11.
30, 68, where the readings
Y
338
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
in
furnisht and Renish
Percy for renisht and renish
appear to be incorrect. At
a very early date we im-
ported our horses from the
Continent.
Reuylle, i. 90.
Reveir, river.
Rewe, i.q. rue, take pity.
Rew, Fr. rue, row or street,
the original street having
often occupied only one side
of the roadway.
Rewmes, realms.
Reyke, wander.
Rhodes, ii. 210.
Rice, i.q. rise, a bough or
branch.
Rid, rede, advise, i. 225.
Rig or rigge, ridge, hence the
back, ii. 213.
Ring, reign, præt, rung.
Ringes in the halle, ii. 87,
? for fastening up horses
or dogs.
Rise, branch.
Rise at, proceed from, depend
upon.
Robin Hood, ii. xxi., 16.
Rode, complexion.
Rok, distaff.
Romancia, literally romance,
but at the time (1390) when
it is mentioned by Sir James
Douglas (i. xvii.), understood
in the sense of something
written in French, as dis-
tinguished from Latin.
Many of the early Chron-
icles were known as Ro-
mances, and were often little
else.
Rone, ? circle, round.
Ronke, strong.
Ronsy or runsy, a roadster, i.
232, 243,
Roundel, a trencher.
Round Table, i. 21, 41, et alibi
in Awntyrs of Arthur.
Rowning, whispering.
Ruffy ragmen or (?) ragman,
i. 296.
tasker, i. 296.
Rusty bully with a bek, i. 194.
Rybybe, a sort of fiddle.
Rysse, ? stream,
Sad, sober.
Saif, save.
Sailyit, leap or mount.
St. William of York, i. 278.
Saler, salt-cellar.
Salust, saluted.
Samekil, or rather samquhil,
so much.
Samine, same.
Sanape, napkin.
Sanct Dyonis, St. Denis.
Sanct Geles, St. Giles's, Edin-
burgh.
Sark or serk, shirt.
Sauge, sage.
Saugh is ex-
plained by Halliwell to be
the sallow.
Say, essay.
Saztenynge, reconciliation.
Scail, measure, quantity.
Scarebur, Scarborough, i. 319.
Schaftis, jaws.
Schone, fame?
Schonely, fairly. Old copy
reads schomely.
Schruedede, shrowded.
Schrydes, shrouds, protects
from.
Schule, shovel.
Sclavain or sclavin, a pil.
grim's mantle.
Scotish (Ancient) tunes, i.
193-194.
Scewes, scoghes, groves.
Scroppit, contemptible, ii. 68,
71..
Scule, learning.
Scutiferais, esquires.
Seam, ii. 210.
Sear.
See Seere.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
339
Seed, in copy sead, distribute.
Seel, seil, or seile, health,
prosperity, good fortune;
Lat. salus.
Seere or seir, several.
Segges, sages.
Sembled, met.
Semiramis, i. 294.
Sendale or cendale, rich silken
trappings or caparison,
Sensyne, since then.
Senzeorabill, seigniorial.
Seo, saw.
Seriandis, i.q. serjantis, i.e.
servientes, and in the pas-
sage where it occurs seems
to mean merely followers.
Comp. Mase. The phrase
serjantis of mace occurs in
a second passage, where it
may be the true reading.
Serland, Syria, a corruption
of Sureyland, and in Asloan
MS. the reading Serland-
land is a pleonasm.
Serwe, serwful, sorrow, sor.
rowful.
Sessioun, cessation.
Set, ? appreciate, ii. 252.
Sevensum, seven
seven.
Share, cut.
or some
Sheild, the swerd of bacon, or
perhaps brawn.
Shew, pret. of show.
Shield, i.e. of brawn or bacon.
Shoot, ? pret. of shut.
Eger, 1. 1301.
Shore, threatened.
Sir
Shot-window, a narrow slit for
purposes of defence.
Sib, kindred.
Silly, seely, i. 196.
Sindrie, ? in sundry direc
tions, i. 217.
Sith, since.
Skarrit, sacred.
Skille, reason.
Skynne, scone.
Slee, cunning, skilfull,
Slidder, slippery.
Small, adv., little.
Smuired, corrupted.
Soar, ii. 195. Comp. Sore.
Sober, serious, solemn.
Solyeing, solving.
So many laddis,
so many
lownis, prov., i. 195.
Son, soon.
Sonondaye, Sunday.
Sophea, Sophy of Persia.
Sore, or Soar, ?a sorrel or
chestnut horse, ii. 134, 195.
Sornand, sojournand,
Sorsecle, i. 49.
Sover, suffer.
Spac, i.q. spick, fine.
Spait, flood.
Speir, ask.
Spercles, sparks.
Sperde, shut.
Spittell man (Ane), i. 115.
Splenders, splinters.
Spomage or spung, purse.
Spurtill, flat iron for turning
cakes.
Spyllynge, failure.
Squird, sword.
Squyar Johne of Mowis, ii. 9.
Squyarie, a retinue of squires.
Stad, pret. of stead, put.
Stade, landing-place, i.q.
stead.
Standert, candlestick.
State, reverently she made
him state," she treated him
with respectful courtesy,
ii. 165.
Staw, stole.
Steerand, stirring.
Steidis, towns; Germ. stadt.
Stekillede, fastened.
Sternis, stars.
Steryn, stern.
Steven, voice.
Stewart, steward.
Stifftapil, i. 189.
Stobschaw, i. 174.
340
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
Stottis, young oxen.
Stottyde, ?stammered.
Stounede, stared with wonder.
Strauen, strown.
Strencult, sprinkled, scat-
tered.
Stro, straw.
Sturt, disorder.
Succudrously, proudly.
Sugette, subject.
Surquedrie, in old text in-
correctly, sucquedrie, pride
or presumption.
Surry, Syria.
Swadrick, ? a strayer, ii.
145.
Swayne, boy.
Sweet thing, ?i.q. sweeting, ii.
257.
Sweir, sore.
Swerers, jurymen.
Swoghe, to run with a rushing
noise, like
stream.
a
mountain
Swoghynge, rushing as a tor-
rent.
Swylke or swilke, such.
Swyth, swythly, swift, swiftly.
Syde goun, long gown,
158.
1.
Symon sonis of Quhenfell, i.
194.
Sythen, afterward.
Sythis, times.
Sytis, torments.
Syve, St., St. Ositha, i. 172.
Ta, take.
Tablet, cloth of gold or silver
to form the head-covering
for a horse.
Tade, toad.
Taillis efter suppair, i. 223.
Tak gude will as deid, take
the will for the deed, i. 177.
Tarn or terne, lake.
Tartane, ii. 6. "Twa tabartis
of the tartane.'
"
Te, v., to draw.
Tees or T's, iron T-shaped
holdfasts in the saddle.
Tein, tene, or teone, trouble.
Teith, labour.
Tents, taints, stains.
Tercelet, here used for a male
heir, but tercel, of which this
is apparently a diminutive,
more generally applied to
the male of the goshawk or
the eagle.
Terne Wathelyn, Tarn Wat-
ling, in Cumberland. See
i. 42.
Tervey, ii. 20.
Tha, those.
The, thrive.
The day, to-day.
The morrow, to-morrow.
Theos, those.
The sone shene in the Sowth,
a dance tune, i. 192.
yesterday.
Thestreen,
Eger, 1. 2491.
Sir
Thay, used for those, i. 141,
1. 417, and 144, 1. 516.
Thine, then.
This hundred winter," a fig-
ure of speech, ii. 200-201.
Thourtour, through.
Thratt, threatened.
Thraw-cruk, a crooked stick
for twisting hay or straw
ropes.
Thrawes, draws, ii. 176.
Thrawin, thrown, or thrown
out.
Thriep, v., here apparently
used in the sense of differ,
i. 218.
Thropillis, throats.
Thus gait, in this way.
Till, to.
Till, ii. 87. "Till my bryde
")
from mee.'
Timously, betimes.
Tine, lose.
Tint, lost, pret. of tine.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
341
Tire, tedious.
Tirlit, ? i.q. twirled, i. 158.
Toomed, emptied.
Toret, ? wrong; Fr. tort.
To rufe, at home, i. 218.
To sit on the rayne-bow, i.
141.
Towsill me or tit me, i. 230.
Tit = twit.
Tracyence, Thrace. The writer
of Kyng Orfeo took the pro-
vince to be a city.
Tras and trenass, i. 193.
Tratlour, gossip.
Travel, labour; Fr. travail.
Trayfole, trefoil.
Treat, entreat.
Tree, wood.
Trees, names of, i. 47-49.
Trene, spout.
Trewe, believe.
Trimland, trembling.
Trimpe, trumpet.
Trimpour, ? a deceiver; Fr.
trompeur, i. 187.
Tristis, rendezvous or places
of meeting.
Trolly lolly, i. 193.
Trucour, cheat, i. 187.
Truncheour, trencher, platter.
Truphane, i. 187.
Tuggill, tug.
Tuick of drum, i. 121.
In
the next page we have
"the dandring drums did
touk."
Turse, ii. 176.
Tuskane, Tuscany; but the
geography of this poem is
often vague and specula-
tive.
Tutivillus, i. 186. See Halli-
well in v. 295.
Twich, i. 198.
Twysbank [Tayis Bank], i.
169, 225.
Tynd, horn.
Tyne, to cause to lose or for-
feit, i.q. tine.
Unburely, unfit for a bower
or house.
Under, undern, or undertide,
evening.
Underta, undertake.
Undrone, undern, nine o'clock
A.M.
Unrufe, i. 217.
Unto, until.
Upon hicht, upstairs.
Ure, ore.
Vaclaw, presumably a cor-
rupt form of the name of a
place, ii. 154.
Valour, distance.
Vanquisht, overcome by fa-
tigue and loss of blood.
Vegetables, i. 49.
Venkust, vanquished.
Ventalle or ventil, a corrup-
tion of aventaile, the mov-
able front of the helmet.
Verrys, glasses.
Vesy, survey.
Vilipend, deem ill of any one.
Vincussing, vanquishing.
Wa, i. 224.
Wachis and wardroparis,
guards and officials of the
wardrobe.
Wait, wete, know.
Waithman, funeral.
Wakryif, vigilant.
Waled, chose, ii. 163; old
copy, wail'd.
Wallace, Sir William, ii. 6.
Walsh notes [nuts] newe, i.
49. By walsh we are per-
haps to understand nuts
not indigenous to the coun-
try-foreign fruit.
Walters, plunges.
Wand, to take the, i. 264.
Wandrethe, trouble.
Wane, abode.
342
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
Wane, wain, waggon.
Wanweird, wretch. Halli-
well says, "Wanweard,
profligate.-North.
"
Ward, took charge of.
Wardly, worldly.
Wardons, warden-pears.
Warp, threw.
Warrand, ii, 164. The guar-
antee of good faith tendered
by a lord to his guest.
Warre, To gyve the, to take
initiative in aggression, i.
IIO.
Warwolf or werwulf, i. 298.
Wawayne, i.q. Gawayne.
Wayemetede, mourned or sob-
bed. Query, i.q. zamur-
tede.
Wayffande with the see fame,
i. 106.
Weapons as heirlooms, ii. 151,
153.
Wed, pledge.
Wede, v., wode, go mad.
Wederlyng, i. 48.
Weir, doubt, also difficulty,
i. 148-149.
Weir - men, vassals, bonds-
men.
Welde, rule.
Wemles, spotless.
Were, trouble,
doubt, i.q. wcir.
Werre, worse.
difficulty,
Werne, forbid, refuse.
Weryit, worried,
Westmoreland, King's daugh-
ter of, i. xxi.
Widdeis, wythies.
Widdersdorf, Prussia, in the
district of Cologne, ii. 50,
note.
Wie, while.
Wilfully, willingly.
Will, ?wide, i. 218, 219.
Willar, comp. of will.
Wince, ? quince, i. 48.
Winchester, mentioned in i.
77, as synonymous with the
city of Tracyence or Thrace.
Wine berries, winberries,
whortleberries, or orts.
Wine-bottle, ii. 171.
Winnis, dwells.
Wish, washed.
Wisk away, i. 204.
Wite, rule,
With a hap, a halfpenny, and
a lambskin, a proverb said
to be derived from the origin
of the fortunes of Roger
Thornton, a merchant of
Newcastle - on - Tyne. The
proverb runs-
"At the west gate came Thorn-
ton in,
With a hap, a halfpenny, and
a lambskin."
It is introduced into Killi-
grew's Parson's Wedding,
1664, but in the old copy
is misrendered. It is not
improbable that in the pas-
sage in the Thrie Priests of
Peblis we have an outline of
the real history of Thorn-
ton, which is so far interest-
ing, as it may tend to fix
the locality or district where
the production was com-
posed, i. 134.
Wizte, active or brave.
Wlonkest, most splendid.
Wobstar, webster, weaver.
Wod, wild, angry.
Wood, mad.
Worn, clapsed, spent.
Worthed, went, proceeded.
Worthlich, worthy.
Would, willed, wished,
Wox, waxed, grew.
Wrebbe, i. 90.
Wrye, i. 90.
Wy, wight, man.
Wyce, shrink or shrivel.
Wymond of the Wardrop, i.
224, 226.
INDEX AND GLOSSARY
343
Wyneberye, winberry.
Wynnit, lived.
Ymped orympe, cut or shaped
as a tree.
Yode, went.
Yron, heron,
Yaip or zaip, quick.
Yare, ready.
Ydiottis, i. 197.
Yet, gate.
Yet or yett, hot.
Yggillwode
Foreste, i.
42,
note.
Ymp, a graft or sapling.
Yule or Christmas carols, ii. 63.
Zame, lament.
Zamyrly, lamentably.
Zare, sharply, quickly.
Zeldade, covered.
Zolland, yelling.
THE END.
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submitted to his notice more English book-rarities than any
other bibliophile in Europe."-Academy, August 26, 1882.
6. A General Index to Hazlitt's Bibliographical Works
(1867-89). By J. G. GRAY. Edited by W. C. HAZLITT. Medium
8vo. 1893. Pp. 842.
( 2 )
7. Memoirs of William Hazlitt. With Portions of his Cor-
respondence. Portraits after miniatures by John Hazlitt.
vols. 8vo. 1867.
2
During the last twenty years the Author has been indefati-
gable in collecting additional information for the Life of Hazlitt,
1867, in correcting errors, and in securing all the unpublished
letters which have come into the market, some of great interest,
with a view to a new and improved edition.
8. Inedited Tracts. Illustrating the Manners, Opinions, and
Occupations of Englishmen during the 16th and 17th Centuries.
1586-1618. With an Introduction and Notes. Facsimiles. 4to.
1868.
9. The Works of Charles Lamb. Now first collected, and
entirely rearranged. With Notes. 4 vols. 8vo. E. Moxon &
Co. 1868-69.
10. Letters of Charles Lamb. With some Account of the
Writer, his Friends and Correspondents, and Explanatory Notes.
By the late Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd, D.C. L., one of his Execu-
tors. An entirely new edition, carefully revised and greatly
enlarged by W. Carew Hazlitt. 2 vols. 1886.
1886. Post 8vo.
10a. Mary and Charles Lamb. New Facts and Inedited Re-
mains. 8vo. Woodcuts and Facsimiles. 1874.
The groundwork of this volume was an Essay by the writer
in Macmillan's Magazine.
11. English Proverbs and Proverbial Phrases. Arranged
alphabetically and annotated. Medium 8vo. 1869. Second
Edition, corrected and greatly enlarged. Crown 8vo. 1882.
12. Narrative of the Journey of an Irish Gentleman
through England in 1751. From a MS. With Notes.
1869.
8vo.
13. The English Drama and Stage, under the Tudor
and Stuart Princes. 1547-1664. With an Introduction and
Notes. 4to. 1869.
A series of reprinted Documents and Treatises.
14. Popular Antiquities of Great Britain. I. The Calendar.
II. Customs and Ceremonies. III. Superstitions. 3 vols.
Medium 8vo. 1870.
Brand's Popular Antiquities, by Sir Henry Ellis, 1813, taken
to pieces, recast, and enormously augmented.
15. Inedited Poetical Miscellanies. 1584-1700. Thick 8vo.
With Notes and Facsimiles. 50 copies privately printed. 1870.
16. Warton's History of English Poetry. An entirely new
edition, with Notes by Sir F. Madden, T. Wright, F. J. Furni-
vall, R. Morris, and others, and by the Editor. 4 vols. Medium
8vo. 1871.
17. Prefaces, Dedications, and Epistles. Prefixed to Early
English Books. 1540-1701. 8vo. 1874.
50 copies privately printed.
18. Blount's Jocular Tenures. Tenures of Land and Customs
of Manors. Originally published by Thomas Blount of the Inner
Temple in 1679. An entirely new and greatly enlarged edition
by W. Carew Hazlitt, of that Ilk. Medium 8vo. 1874.
( 3 )
19. Dodsley's Select Collection of Old Plays. A new
edition, greatly enlarged, corrected throughout, and entirely re-
arranged. With a Glossary by Dr. Richard Morris. 15 vols.
8vo. 1874-76.
20. Fairy Tales, Legends, and Romances. Illustrating
Shakespear and other Early English Writers. 12mo. 1875.
21. Shakespear's Library: A Collection of the Novels, Plays,
and other Material supposed to have been used by Shakespear.
An entirely new edition. 6 vols. 12mo. 1875.
22. Fugitive Tracts (written in verse) which illustrate
the Condition of Religious and Political Feeling in England, and
the State of Society there, during two centuries. 1493-1700. 2
vols. 4to. 50 copies privately printed. 1875.
23. Poetical Recreations. By W. C. Hazlitt. 50 copies printed.
12mo. 1877.
A new edition, revised and very greatly enlarged, is in pre-
paration.
24. The Baron's Daughter. A Ballad. 75 copies printed.
4to. 1877.
An
25. The Essays of Montaigne. Translated by C. Cotton.
entirely new edition, collated with the best French text. With
a Memoir, and all the extant Letters. Portrait and Illustra-
tions. 3 vols. 8vo. 1877.
The only library edition,
3 vols. Post 8vo.
Second edition, abridged. 1893.
26. Catalogue of the Huth Library. [English portion.] 5
vols. Large 8vo. 1880. 200 copies printed.
27. Offspring of Thought in Solitude. Modern Essays.
1884. 8vo, pp. 384.
Some of these Papers were originally contributed to All the
Year Round, &c.
28. Old Cookery Books and Ancient Cuisine. 12mo.
1886.
"Full of curious information, this work can fairly claim to
be a philosophical history of our national cookery.”—Morning
Post.
29. An Address to the Electors of Mid-Surrey, among
whom I live. In rejoinder to Mr. Gladstone's Manifesto. 1880.
8vo, pp. 32.
"Who would not grieve, if such a man there be?
Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?"-POPE.
30. Gleanings in Old Garden Literature. 12mo. 1887.
(4)
81. Schools, School-books, and Schoolmasters. A Con-
tribution to the History of Educational Development. 12mo.
1888. Pp. 800+ vi.
Survey of the old system of teaching-Dr. Busby-Early
Dictionarios-Colloquios in the Tenth, Twelfth, and Thirteenth
Conturies-Earliest printed works of instruction, Donatus and
others-Stanbridge-Robert Whittington-Guarini of Verona-
Vulgaria of Toronce-School Classics- Erasmus and More-Dean
Colet-Foundation of St. Paul's-Thomas Linacro-Wolsey's
Edition of Lily's Grammar-Merchant Taylors' School-Öld
Modo of Advertising Private Establishments-Museum Minervæ
at Bethnal Green--Manchester Old School- Shakespeare, Sir
Hugh Evans, and Holofernes-Educational Condition of Scot-
land-Female Education-Shakespeare's Daughters-Goldsmith
-Ascham and Mulcuster-Bon Jonson and Shirley, writers of
Grammars- Foreigners' English - Phonography-Bullokar-
Charles Butler-Dr. Jones.
"A perusal of Mr. W. Carew IIazlitt's book is calculated to
make both parents and boys thankful that they live in an ago
of comparative enlightenment. The work does not profess to be
an exhaustive one, the object being 'to trace the sources and
rise of our educational system, and to present a general view of
the principles on which the groundwork of this system was
laid.' In pursuing this plan the writer has succeeded in pro-
ducing a book, which, though dealing with what some readers
may consider rather a dry subject, is full of curious and in-
teresting information, judiciously arranged and pleasantly
conveyed."-Morning Post.
Mr. Hazlitt knows his subject, and he also knows
how to write. No small praiso."-St. Stephen's Review.
82. A Little Book for Men and Women about Life
and Death. 12mo. Reeves & Turner. 1891.
A now and greatly enlarged edition is ready for the press.
33. The Livery Companies of the City of London.
Their Origin and Character, Development and Social and Poli-
tical Importance. With two coloured platos a. d numerous
illustrations. 1892. Royal 8vo. Pp. 692.
24. Tales and Legends of National Origin, or widely
current in England from early timos. With a Critical Intro-
duction. 1892. 8vo.
8vo. Pp. 486 + xvi.
The story of Robin Hood is here for the first time accurately
related.
25. A Manual for the Collector and Amateur of Old
English Plays. 1892. 4to. Pp. 284+viii. 250 copies printed
on thick paper.
With an
36. The Coinage of the European Continent.
Introduction and Cataloguos of Mints, Denominations, and
Rulers. With 250 Illustrations. 1893. 8vo. Pp. xviii. + 554.
Mr. Hazlitt has occupied the last 15 years in collecting the
finest specimens of Continental coins both hero and abroad.
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