$97. Song. GILBERT COOPER. AWAY! let nought to love displeasing,

My Winifreda, move thy fear;
Let nought delay the heavenly blessing,
Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy care.
What though no grants of royal donors
With pompous titles grace our blood;
We'll shine in more substantial honours,
And to be noble, we'll be good.
What though from fortune's lavish bounty
No mighty treasures we possess ;
We'll find within our pittance plenty,
And be content without excess.
Still shall each kind returning season
Sufficient for our wishes give;
For we will live a life of reason,

And that's the only life to live.
Our name, while virtue thus we tender,
Shall sweetly sound where 'er 'tis spoke,
And all the great ones much shall wonder
How they admire such little folk.
Through youth and age, in love excelling,
We'll hand in hand together tread;
Sweet smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet smiling babes, our bed.

How should I love the pretty creatures,
Whilst round my knees they fondly clung,
To see them look their mother's features,

To hear them lisp their mother's tongue!
And when with envy Time transported
Shall think to rob us of our joys,
You'll in your girls again be courted,
And I'll go wooing in my boys.

$98. Song. PERCY.

O NANCY! wilt thou go with me,

Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town? Can silent glens have charms for thee, The lowly cot and russet gown? No longer drest in silken sheen,

No longer deck'd with jewels rare, Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene Where thou wert fairest of the fair? O Nancy when thou'rt far away,

Wilt thou not cast a wish behind? Say, canst thou face the parching ray, Nor shrink before the wintry wind? O can that soft and gentle mien

Extremes of hardship learn to bear, Nor sad regret each courtly scene

Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nancy! canst thou love so true,

Through perils keen with me to go; Or, when thy swain mishap shall rue,

To share with him the pang of woe? Say, should disease or pain befall,

Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, Nor wistful those gay scenes recall Where thou wert fairest of the fair? And when at last thy love shall die,

Wilt thou receive his parting breath? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,

And cheer with smiles the bed of death? And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay

Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear? Nor then regret those scenes so gay Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

$99. Song. MALLET.

THE Smiling morn, the breathing spring,
Invite the tuneful birds to sing;
And, while they warble from each spray,
Love melts the universal lay.
Let us, Amanda, timely wise,
Like them improve the hour that flies;
And in soft raptures waste the day,
Among the shades of Endermay!

For soon the winter of the year,
And age, life's winter, will appear;
At this thy living bloom must fade,
As that will strip the verdant shade.
Our taste of pleasure then is o'er ;
The feather'd songsters love no more:
And when they droop, and we decay,
Adieu the shades of Endermay.

§ 100. The Spanish Lady's Love. WILL you hear a Spanish lady,

How she woo'd an English man? Garments gay, as rich as may be,

Deck'd with jewels had she on:

Of a comely countenance and grace was she,
Both by birth and parentage of high degree.
As his prisoner there he kept her,
In his hands her life did lie;
Cupid's bands did tie them faster,
By the liking of an eye.

In his courteous company was all her joy,
To favour him in any thing she was not coy.

But at last there came commandment

For to set all ladies free,

With their jewels still adorned,
None to do them injury.
O then, said this lady gay, woe
full
O let me still sustain this kind captivity!

Gallant captain, show some pity

To a lady in distress;
Leave me not within this city,

For to die in heaviness:

is me!

Thou hast set, this present day, my body free, But my heart in prison still remains with thee.

"How shouldst thou, fair lady, love me, Whom thou know'st thy country's foe? Thy fair words make me suspect thee; Serpents lie where flowers grow." All the harm I wish on thee, most courteous knight, [light! God grant upon my head the same may fully

Blessed be the time and season

That thou cam'st on Spanish ground! If you may our foes be termed,

Gentle foes we have you found: With our city, you have won our hearts each one, Then to your country bear away that is your own.

"Rest you still, most gallant lady: Rest you still, and weep no more; Of fair flowers have plenty,

you

Spain doth yield you wondrous store." Spaniards fraught with jealousy we oft do find, But Englishmen throughout the world are counted kind.

"I have neither gold nor silver

To maintain thee in this case : And to travel is great charges,

As you know, in ev'ry place." My chains and jewels ev'ry one shall be thy [unknown.

own,

And eke ten thousand pounds in gold that lies

"On the seas are many dangers, Many storms do there arise, Which will be to ladies dreadful,

And force tears from wat'ry eyes." Well, in troth, I shall endure extremity,

For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.

"Courteous lady, leave this folly,

Here comes all that breeds the strife; I, in England, have already

A sweet woman to my wife;

I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain."

O how happy is that woman

That enjoys so true a friend;

Many happy days God send her!

And of my suit I'll make an end: On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, Which love and true affection did first com

mence.

Commend me to that gallant lady,
Bear to her this chain of gold,
With these bracelets for a token;
Grieving that I was so bold:

All r
I my jewels, in like sort, take thou with thee;
For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.
I will spend my days in prayer,

Love and all his laws defy;
In a nunnery I will shroud me,
Far from any company:

But, ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this,
To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss,
Thus farewell, most gallant captain!
Farewell to my heart's content!
Count not Spanish ladies wanton,

Though to thee my mind was bent:
Joy and true prosperity go still with thee!
The like fall unto thy share, most fair lady!"

66

§ 101. Ballad. The Children in the Wood; or, The Norfolk Gentleman's last Will and Testament.

Now ponder well, you parents dear,
The words which I shall write;

A doleful story you shall hear,

In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account
In Norfolk liv'd of late,

Whose wealth and riches did surmount
Most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was, and like to die,

No help that he could have;
His wife by him as sick did lie,

And both possess'd one grave.
No love between these two was lost,
Each was to other kind :

In love they liv'd, in love they died,
And left two babes behind:

The one a fine and pretty boy,

Not passing three years old:
The other a girl, more young than he,
And made in beauty's mould.
The father left his little son,
As plainly doth appear,
When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a year ;
And to his little daughter Jane

Five hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage day,
Which might not be controll'd.
But if the children chanc'd to die
Ere they to age should come,
Their uncle should possess their wealth;
For so the will did run.

Now brother, said the dying man,

Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl, No friends else I have here:

To God and you I do commend

My children night and day; But little while, be sure, we have Within this world to stay.

You must be father and mother both,
And uncle, all in one;

God knows what will become of them
When I am dead and gone.

With that bespake their mother dear :
O brother kind, quoth she,
You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or misery.

And if you keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;
If otherwise you seem to deal,
God will your deeds regard.
With lips as cold as any stone

She kiss'd her children small:
God bless you both, my children dear
With that the tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spoke
To this sick couple there :
The keeping of your children dear,
Sweet sister, do not fear;
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children dear,
When you are laid in grave!
Their parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,
And brings them both unto his house,
And much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day,
When for their wealth he did devise

To make them both away.

He bargain'd with two ruffians rude,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take the children young,
And slay them in a wood.
He told his wife, and all he had,
He did the children send
To be brought up in fair London,
With one that was his friend.

Away then went these pretty babes,
Rejoicing at that tide';
Rejoicing with a merry mind,

They should on cock-horse ride.
They prate and prattle pleasantly,
As they rode on the way,

To those that should their butchers be,
And work their lives' decay.

So that the pretty speech they had,
Made murd'rers' hearts relent;
And they that undertook the deed
Full sore they did repent.
Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
Did vow to do his charge,
Because the wretch that hired him
Had paid him very large.

The other would not agree thereto,
So here they fell at strife;
With one another they did fight
About the children's life.
And he that was of mildest mood
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood;

While babes did quake for fear.

He took the children by the hand,
When tears stood in their eye;
And bade them come and go with him,
And look they did not cry:

And two long miles he led them on,
While they for food complain:

Stay here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread,
When I do come again.

These pretty babes with hand in hand
Went wandering up and down:
But never more they saw the man
Approaching from the town.
Their pretty lips with blackberries
Were all besmear'd and dy'd;
And when they saw the darksome night,
They sat them down and cried.
Thus wander'd these two pretty babes,
Till death did end their grief;
In one another's arms they died,
As babes wanting relief.
No burial these pretty babes

Of any man receives,
Till Robin-red-breast painfully
Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of God
Upon their uncle fell;

Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,
His conscience felt a hell.

His barns were fir'd, his goods consum'd,
His lands were barren made,
His cattle died within the field,

And nothing with him staid.
And, in the voyage of Portugal,
Two of his sons did die;

And, to conclude, himself was brought
To extreme misery :

He pawn'd and mortgag'd all his land
Ere seven years came about;
And now at length this wicked act
Did by this means come out :

The fellow that did take in hand
These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judg'd to die,
As was God's blessed will;
Who did confess the very truth,
The which is here express'd;
Their uncle died, while he for debt
In prison long did rest.

All you that be executors made,
And overseers eke,

Of children that be fatherless,

And infants mild and meek: Take you example by this thing, And give to each his right; Lest God with such like misery, Your wicked minds requite.

$102. Ballad. The Hunting in Chevy Chase. Gor prosper long our noble king,

Our lives and safeties all!

A woeful hunting once there did
In Chevy Chase befal.

To drive the deer with hound and horn
Earl Percy took his way;

The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day.
The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer's days to take;
The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase
To kill and bear away.
The tidings to Earl Douglas came
In Scotland, where he lay ;
Who sent Earl Percy present word
He would prevent his sport.
The English earl, not fearing this,
Did to the woods resort,
With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might;
Who knew full well, in time of need,
To aim their shafts aright.
The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deer;
On Monday they began to hunt,
When day-light did appear;
And, long before high noon, they had
A hundred fat bucks slain;
Then, having din'd, the drovers went
To rouse them up again.

The bowmen muster'd on the hills,
Well able to endure;

Their back-sides all, with special care,"
That day were guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,
The nimble deer to take;

And with their cries the hills and dales

An echo shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went,

To view the slaughter'd deer;
Quoth he, Earl Douglas promised
This day to meet me here:

If that I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay.
With that a brave young gentleman
Thus to the earl did say:

Lo! yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight;

All men of pleasant Tividale,
Fast by the river Tweed.
Then cease your sport, Earl Percy said,
And take your bows with speed:
And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance;
For never was there champion yet,
In Scotland or in France,
That ever did on horseback come,
But, if my hap it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear.

Earl Douglas on a milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of the company,
Whose armour shone like gold:
Show me, said he, whose men you be,
That hunt so boldly here;
That, without my consent, do chase
And kill my fallow-deer?

The man that first did answer make,
Was noble Percy he:
Who said, We list not to declare,

Nor show whose men we be :
Yet will we spend our dearest blood,
Thy chiefest harts to slay.
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say :

Ere thus I will out-braved be,
One of us two shall die:

I know thee well; an earl thou art,
Lord Percy so am 1.

But trust me, Percy, pity it were,
And great offence, to kill
Any of these our harmless men,
For they have done no ill.

Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside.
Accurs'd be he, Lord Percy said,
By whom this is denied.

Then stepp'd a gallant squire forth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, I would not have it told

To Henry our king, for shame,

That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stood looking on:
You be two earls, said Witherington,
And I a squire alone:

I'll do the best that do I may,

While I have strength to stand: While I have pow'r to wield my sword, I'll fight with heart and hand.

Our English archers bent their bows,
Their hearts were good and true;
At the first flight of arrows sent,

Full threescore Scots they slew.

To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Earl Douglas had the bent;
A captain mov'd with mickle pride,
The spears to shivers sent.

They clos'd full fast on ev'ry side,
No slackness there was found;
And many a gallant gentleman

Lay gasping on the ground.

O Christ! it was a grief to see,
And likewise for to hear
The cries of men lying in their gore,
And scatter'd here and there.

At last these two stout earls did meet,
Like captains of great might;
Like lions mov'd, they laid on load,
And made a cruel fight.

They fought until they both did sweat,
With swords of temper'd steel;
Until the blood, like drops of rain,
They trickling down did feel.
Yield thee, Lord Percy, Douglas said;
In faith I will thee bring,
Where thou shalt high advanced be,
By James our Scottish king.
Thy ransom I will freely give,
And thus report of thee:
Thou art the most courageous knight
That ever I did see.

No, Douglas, quoth Earl Percy then,
Thy proffer I do scorn;
I will not yield to any Scot
That ever yet was born.

With that there came an arrow keen
Out of an English bow,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,
A deep and deadly blow:

Who never spoke more words than these:
Fight on, my merry men all;
For why? my life is at an end:
Lord Percy sees my fall.
Then leaving life, Earl Percy took
The dead man by the hand:
And said, Earl Douglas, for thy life
Would I have lost my land!

O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure a more renowned knight
Mischance did never take.

A knight amongst the Scots there was,
Which saw Earl Douglas die,
Who straight in wrath did vow revenge
Upon the Earl Percy.

Sir Hugh Montgomery he was call'd;
Who, with a spear most bright,
Well mounted on a gallant steed,

Ran fiercely through the fight:
And pass'd the English archers all,
Without all dread or fear;
And through Earl Percy's body then
He thrust his hateful spear.

With such a vehement force and might
He did his body gore,
The spear went through the other side
A large cloth-yard, and more.
So thus did both these nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain.
An English archer then perceiv'd
The noble earl was slain;

He had a bow bent in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree;
An arrow of a cloth-yard long
Up to the head drew he:

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery
So right the shaft he set,

The grey-goose wing that was thereon
In his heart-blood was wet.

This fight did last from break of day
Till setting of the sun;
For when they rung the evening-bell
The battle scarce was done.

With the Earl Percy there was slain
Sir John of Ogerton,

Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,
Sir James that bold baron:

And with Sir George, and good Sir James,
Both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain,
Whose prowess did surmount.

For Witherington needs must I wail,
As one in doleful dumps;
For, when his legs were smitten off,
He fought upon his stumps.

And with Earl Douglas there was slain
Sir Hugh Montgomery;

Sir Charles Currel, that from the field
One foot would never fly;

Sir Charles Murrel of Ratcliffe too,
His sister's son was he:

Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd,
Yet saved could not be.

And the Lord Maxwell, in like wise,
Did with Earl Douglas die :
Of twenty hundred Scottish spears,
Scarce fifty-five did fly.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen
Went home but fifty-three;
The rest were slain in Chevy Chase,
Under the greenwood-tree.

Next day did many widows come,
Their husbands to bewail;

They wash'd their wounds in brinish tears,
But all would not prevail.

Their bodies, bath'd in purple blood,
They bore with them away;
They kiss'd them dead a thousand times
When they were clad in clay.

This news was brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland's king did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas suddenly
Was with an arrow slain.

O heavy news! king James did say ;
Scotland can witness be,

I have not any captain more
Of such account as he.

Like tidings to King Henry came,
Within as short a space,

That Percy of Northumberland
Was slain in Chevy Chase.

Now God be with him, said our king,
Sith 'twill no better be;

I trust I have within my realm

Five hundred good as he.

Yet shall not Scot nor Scotland say,
But I will vengeance take;

And be revenged on them all
For brave Lord Percy's sake.