Chapter V: Book 1 (2)

It has been a much easier task to settle the text of this poem, than to ascertain its date. The ballad of the _Nutbrowne Mayd_ was first revived in _The Muses Mercury_ for June, 1707, 4to. being prefaced with a little _Essay on the old English Poets and Poetry_; in which this poem is concluded to be "near 300 years old," upon reasons which, though they appear inconclusive to us now, were sufficient to determine Prior, who there first met with it. However, this opinion had the approbation of the learned Wanley, an excellent judge of ancient books. For that whatever related to the reprinting of this old piece was referred to Wanley, appears from two letters of Prior's preserved in the British Museum (Harl. MSS. No. 3777). The editor of the _Prolusions_ thinks it cannot be older than the year 1500, because, in Sir Thomas More's tale of _The Serjeant_, &c., which was written about that time, there appears a sameness of rhythmus and orthography, and a very near affinity of words and phrases with those of this ballad. But this reasoning is not conclusive, for if Sir Thomas More made this ballad his model, as is very likely, that will account for the sameness of measure, and in some respect for that of words and phrases, even tho' this had been written long before; and as for the orthography, it is well known that the old printers reduced that of most books to the standard of their own times. Indeed it is hardly probable that an antiquary like Arnolde would have inserted it among his historical collections, if it had been then a modern piece; at least he would have been apt to have named its author. But to shew how little can be inferred from a resemblance of rhythmus or style, the Editor of these volumes has in his ancient folio MS. a poem on the victory of Flodden-field, written in the same numbers, with the same alliterations, and in orthography, phraseology, and style nearly resembling the _Visions of Pierce Plowman_, which are yet known to have been composed above 160 years before that battle. As this poem is a great curiosity, we shall give a few of the introductory lines:

"Grant gracious God, grant me this time,
That I may say, or I cease, thy selven to please;
And Mary his mother, that maketh all this world;
And all the seemlie saints, that sitten in heaven;
I will carpe of kings, that conquered full wide,
That dwelled in this land, that was alyes noble;
Henry the seaventh, that soveraigne lord," &c.[242]

With regard to the date of the following ballad, we have taken a middle course, neither placed it so high as Wanley and Prior, nor quite so low as the editor of the _Prolusions_; we should have followed the latter in dividing every other line into two, but that the whole would then have taken up more room than could be allowed it in this volume.

* * * * *

[The edition of Richard Arnold's _Chronicle_ (1521) mentioned
above, is the second; and the first, which is undated, was printed
at Antwerp in 1502. This edition is described in Brydges' _Censurä_
_Literaria_ (vol. vi. p. 114), where the _Nut-Brown Maid_ is
printed. A copy from the Balliol MS. 354, of about the same date,
is printed in Percy's folio manuscript, ed. Hales and Furnivall,
vol iii. p. 174. Warton will not allow that the poem was written
before the beginning of the sixteenth century, but as Percy says,
it is highly improbable that an antiquary would insert a modern
piece in his miscellany of curiosities.

Percy has inserted the following note in his folio MS.: "From the
concluding words of this last stanza--

['but men wold that men shold
be kind to them eche one,
yett I had rather, god to obay
and serve but him alone']

it should seem that the author was a woman."

Mr. Skeat remarks that the part of the fourth stanza before the
woman speaks, and the first two verses, are still more conclusive
on this point. On the other side it is noticeable that the author
speaks as a man at line 353:

"... that we may
To them be comfortable;"

but this may only be a blind.

Few readers will agree with Percy's estimate of Prior's poem, and
_Henry and Emma_ is now only remembered because of its connection
with the _Nut-Brown Maid_.

Warton justly points out how the simplicity of the original is
decorated, dilated, and consequently spoilt by Prior, who crowds
his verses with zephyrs, Chloe, Mars, the Cyprian deity, &c. Such
lay figures as these are quite out of keeping with the realities of
this most exquisite poem.

One instance of Prior's inability to appreciate the beauties of his
original will be sufficient. The tender allusion at v. 232-3:

"O my swete mother, before all other
For you I have most drede,"

followed by the reflection:

"But nowe adue! I must ensue
Where fortune doth me lede,"

is entirely omitted by the later poet, who changes

"To shorte my here, a bowe to bere,
To shote in tyme of nede,"

into

"Wanting the scissors, with these hands I'll tear
(If that obstructs my flight) this load of hair."

The _Nut-Brown Maid_ has always been highly popular (a proof of
the good taste of the people), and in consequence it figures in
Captain Cox's collection described by Laneham. Another proof of its
popularity is the existence of various parodies, one of which is of
very early date.

It was a common practice in the sixteenth century to turn ordinary
ballads into religious songs. _The New Nutbrowne Maid_, printed by
John Skot about 1520, reprinted by George Isted in 1820 for the
Roxburghe Club, and again reprinted by Dr. Rimbault for the Percy
Society (vol. iv.), 1842, is an instance of this practice. It is a
close parody of the original, and purports to be "upon the passion
of Cryste." The _he_ and _she_ are changed to _Maria the mayde_ and
_Jesus_.

Another version is given in the Percy folio MS. (ed. Hales and
Furnivall, vol. ii. p. 334), which is entitled _A Jigge_.

The incidents are vulgarized, "but," Mr. Hales observes, "the
beauty of the original is too great to be altogether destroyed,
however rude the hands that handle it. Something of the charm of
the _Nut Brown Maid_ lingers around this _Jig_."]

* * * * *

Be it ryght, or wrong, these men among[243]
On women do complayne:[244][245]
Affyrmynge this, how that it is
A labour spent in vayne,
To love them wele; for never a dele[246] 5
They love a man agayne:
For late a man do what he can,
Theyr favour to attayne,
Yet, yf a newe do them persue,
Theyr first true lover than 10
Laboureth for nought; for from her[247] thought[248]
He is a banyshed man.

I say nat nay, but that all day
It is bothe writ and sayd
That womans faith is, as who sayth, 15
All utterly decayd;
But, neverthelesse, ryght good wytnèsse
In this case might be layd,
That they love true, and continùe:
Recorde the Not-browne Mayde: 20
Which, when her love came, her to prove,
To her to make his mone,
Wolde nat depart; for in her hart
She loved but hym alone.

Than betwaine us late us dyscus 25
What was all the manere
Betwayne them two: we wyll also
Tell all the payne, and fere,[249]
That she was in. Nowe I begyn,
So that ye me answère; 30
Wherfore, all ye, that present be
I pray you, gyve an ere.
"I am the knyght; I come by nyght,
As secret as I can;
Sayinge, Alas! thus standeth the case, 35
I am a banyshed man."

And I your wyll for to fulfyll
In this wyll nat refuse;
Trustying to shewe, in wordès fewe,
That men have an yll use 40
(To theyr own shame) women to blame,
And causelesse them accuse:
Therfore to you I answere nowe,
All women to excuse,--

SHE.[250]

Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere? 45
I pray you, tell anone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

It standeth so; a dede is do[251]
Wherof grete harme shall growe: 50
My destiny is for to dy
A shamefull deth, I trowe;
Or elles to fle: the one must be.
None other way I knowe,
But to withdrawe as an outlawe, 55
And take me to my bowe.
Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true!
None other rede I can:[252]
For I must to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man. 60

SHE.

O lord, what is thys worldys blysse,
That changeth as the mone!
My somers day in lusty may[253]
Is derked[254] before the none.
I here you say, farewell: Nay, nay 65
We dèpart[255] nat so sone.
Why say ye so? wheder[256] wyll ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?
All my welfàre to sorrowe and care
Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone; 70
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

I can beleve, it shall you greve,
And somewhat you dystrayne;[257]
But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde 75
Within a day or twayne
Shall sone aslake;[258] and ye shall take
Comfort to you agayne.
Why sholde ye ought? for, to make thought,
Your labour were in vayne. 80
And thus I do; and pray you to,
As hartely,[259] as I can;
For I must to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Now, syth that ye have shewed to me 85
The secret of your mynde,
I shall be playne to you agayne,
Lyke as ye shall me fynde.
Syth it is so, that ye wyll go,
I wolle not leve[260] behynde; 90
Shall never be sayd, the Not-browne Mayd[261]
Was to her love unkynde:
Make you redy, for so am I,
Allthough it were anone;[262]
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 95
I love but you alone.

HE.

Yet I you rede[263] to take good hede
What men wyll thynke, and say:
Of yonge, and olde it shall be tolde,
That ye be gone away, 100
Your wanton wyll for to fulfill,
In grene wode you to play;
And that ye myght from your delyght
No lenger make delay.
Rather than ye sholde thus for me 105
Be called an yll womàn,
Yet wolde I to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Though it be songe of old and yonge,
That I sholde be to blame, 110
Theyrs be the charge, that speke so large
In hurtynge of my name:
For I wyll prove, that faythfulle love
It is devoyd of shame;
In your dystresse, and hevynesse, 115
To part with you, the same:
And sure all tho,[264] that do not so,[265]
True lovers are they none;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone. 120

HE.

I counceyle you, remember howe,
It is no maydens lawe,
Nothynge to dout, but to renne[266] out
To wode with an outlàwe:
For ye must there in your hand bere 125
A bowe, redy to drawe;
And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve,
Ever in drede and awe;
Wherby to you grete harme myght growe:
Yet had I lever than,[267] 130
That I had to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

I thinke nat nay, but as ye say,[268]
It is no maydens lore:
But love may make me for your sake, 135
As I have sayd before
To come on fote, to hunt, and shote
To gete us mete in store;[269]
For so that I your company
May have, I aske no more: 140
From which to part, it maketh my hart
As colde as ony stone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

For an outlawe this is the lawe, 145
That men hym take and bynde;
Without pytè, hanged to be,
And waver with the wynde.
If I had nede, (as God forbede!)
What rescous[270] coude ye fynde?[271] 150
Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe
For fere wolde drawe behynde:
And no mervayle; for lytell avayle
Were in your counceyle than:
Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go, 155
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Ryght wele knowe ye, that women be
But feble for to fyght;
No womanhede it is indede
To be bolde as a knyght: 160
Yet, in such fere yf that ye were
With enemyes day or nyght,[272]
I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande,
To greve them as I myght,[273]
And you to save; as women have 165
From deth 'men' many one:
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye coude nat sustayne 170
The thornie wayes, the depe valèies,
The snowe, the frost, the rayne,[274]
The colde, the hete: for dry, or wete,
We must lodge on the playne;[275]
And, us above, none other rofe 175
But a brake bush, or twayne:
Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve;
And ye wolde gladly than
That I had to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man. 180

SHE.

Syth I have here bene partynère
With you of joy and blysse,
I must also parte of your wo
Endure, as reson is:
Yet am I sure of one plesùre; 185
And, shortely, it is this:
That, where ye be, me semeth, pardè,
I coude nat fare amysse.
Without more speche, I you beseche
That we were sone agone;[276] 190
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

If ye go thyder, ye must consyder,
Whan ye have lust to dyne,
There shall no mete be for you gete, 195
Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wyne.[277]
No shetés clene, to lye betwene,
Made of threde and twyne;
None other house, but leves and bowes,
To cover your hed and myne, 200
O myne harte swete, this evyll dyéte[278]
Sholde make you pale and wan;
Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Amonge the wylde dere, such an archère, 205
As men say that ye be,
Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle,[279]
Where is so grete plentè:
And water clere of the ryvére
Shall be full swete to me; 210
With which in hele[280] I shall ryght wele
Endure, as ye shall see;
And, or we go, a bedde or two
I can provyde anone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 215
I love but you alone.

HE.

Lo yet, before, ye must do more,
Yf ye wyll go with me:
As cut your here up by your ere,[281][282]
Your kyrtel by the kne;[283] 220
With bowe in hande, for to withstande
Your enemyes, yf nede be:
And this same nyght before day-lyght,[284]
To wode-warde wyll I fle.
Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 225
Do it shortely as ye can;
Els wyll I to the grene wode go,
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

I shall as nowe do more for you
Than longeth to womanhede; 230
To shorte my here,[285] a bowe to bere,
To shote in tyme of nede.
O my swete mother, before all other
For you I have most drede:
But nowe, adue! I must ensue,[286] 235
Where fortune doth me lede.
All this make ye: Now let us fle;
The day cometh fast upon;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone. 240

HE.

Nay, nay, nat so; ye shall nat go,
And I shall tell ye why,--
Your appetyght is to be lyght
Of love, I wele espy:
For, lyke as ye have sayed to me, 245
In lyke wyse hardely
Ye wolde answére whosoever it were,
In way of company.
It is sayd of olde, Sone hote, sone colde;
And so is a womàn. 250
Wherfore I to the wode wyll go,[287]
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Yf ye take hede, it is no nede[288]
Such wordes to say by me;
For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, 255
Or[289] I you loved, pardè:[290]
And though that I of auncestry
A barons daughter be,
Yet have you proved howe I you loved
A squyer of lowe degrè; 260
And ever shall, whatso befall;
To dy therfore[291] anone;[292]
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

A barons chylde to be begylde! 265
It were a cursed dede;
To be felàwe with an outlawe!
Almighty God forbede!
Yet beter were, the pore squyère
Alone to forest yede,[293] 270
Than ye sholde say another day,
That, by my cursed dede,
Ye were betray'd: Wherfore, good mayd,
The best rede[294] that I can,
Is, that I to the grene wode go, 275
Alone, a banyshed man.

SHE.

Whatever befall, I never shall
Of this thyng you upbrayd:[295]
But yf ye go, and leve me so,
Than have ye me betrayd. 280
Remember you wele, howe that ye dele;
For, yf ye, as ye sayd,[296]
Be so unkynde, to leve behynde,[297]
Your love, the Not-browne Mayd,
Trust me truly, that I shall dy 285
Sone after ye be gone;
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent;
For in the forest nowe 290
I have purvayed[298] me of a mayd,
Whom I love more than you;
Another fayrère, than ever ye were,
I dare it wele avowe;
And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe 295
With other, as I trowe:
It were myne ese, to lyve in pese;
So wyll I, yf I can;
Wherfore I to the wode wyll go,
Alone, a banyshed man. 300

SHE.

Though in the wode I undyrstode
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remove my thought,
But that I wyll be your:
And she shall fynde me soft, and kynde, 305
And courteys every hour;
Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll
Commaunde me to my power:
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,
'Of them I wolde be one;'[299] 310
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde
I love but you alone.

HE.

Myne owne dere love, I se the prove
That ye be kynde, and true;
Of mayde, and wyfe, in all my lyfe,[300] 315
The best that ever I knewe.
Be mery and glad, be no more sad,
The case is chaunged newe;
For it were ruthe, that, for your truthe,
Ye sholde have cause to rewe. 320
Be nat dismayed; whatsoever I sayd
To you, whan I began;
I wyll nat to the grene wode go,
I am no banyshed man.

SHE.

These tydings be more gladd to me,[301] 325
Than to be made a quene,
Yf I were sure they sholde endure:
But it is often sene,
Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke
The wordés on the splene.[302] 330
Ye shape some wyle me to begyle,
And stele from me, I wene:
Than, were the case worse than it was,
And I more wo-begone:
For, in my mynde, of all mankynde 335
I love but you alone.

HE.

Ye shall nat nede further to drede;
I wyll nat dysparàge
You, (God defend)! syth ye descend
Of so grete a lynàge.[303] 340
Nowe undyrstande; to Westmarlande,
Which is myne herytage,
I wyll you brynge; and with a rynge,
By way of maryage
I wyll you take, and lady make, 345
As shortely as I can:
Thus have you won an erlys son,[304]
And not a banyshed man.[305]

AUTHOR.

Here may ye se, that women be
In love, meke, kynde, and stable; 350
Late[306] never man reprove them than,
Or call them variable;[307]
But, rather, pray God, that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometyme proveth such, as he loveth,[308] 355
Yf they be charytable.
For syth men wolde that women sholde[309]
Be meke to them each one;
Moche more ought they to God obey,
And serve but hym alone. 360

FOOTNOTES:

[240] This (which my friend Mr. Farmer supposes to be the first edition) is in folio; the folios are numbered at the bottom of the leaf, the song begins at folio 75. The poem has since been collated with a very fine copy that was in the collection of the late James West, Esq.; the readings extracted thence are denoted thus, "Mr. W."

[241] [Hales and Furnivall's edition, vol. iii. p. 174.]

[242] [Folio Manuscript, ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 212.]

[243] [at intervals, sometimes.]

[244] My friend Mr. Farmer proposes to read the first lines thus as a Latinism:

"Be it right or wrong, 'tis men among,
On women to complayne."

[245] [Ver. 2. Woman, _Prolusions_ and Mr. West's copy.]

[246] [not a bit.]

[247] [their.]

[248] [V. 11. her, _i.e._ their.]

[249] [pain and fear. In the Balliol MS. 354, the reading is _in-fere_ (or in company with her lover).]

[250] [Percy printed the "She" at the beginning of this stanza.]

[251] [done.]

[252] [advice I know.]

[253] Ver. 63. The somers, _Prol._

[254] [darkened.]

[255] [separate.]

[256] [whither.]

[257] [afflict.]

[258] [abate.]

[259] [earnestly.]

[260] [remain.]

[261] Ver. 91. Shall it never, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[262] V. 94. Althought, Mr. W.

[263] [advise.]

[264] [those.]

[265] Ver. 117. To shewe all, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[266] [run.]

[267] [rather then.]

[268] V. 133. I say nat, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[269] Ver. 138. and store, Camb. copy.

[270] [rescue.]

[271] V. 150. succours, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[272] V. 162. and night, Camb. copy.

[273] V. 164. to helpe ye with my myght, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[274] Ver. 172. frost and rayne, Mr. W.

[275] V. 174. Ye must, _Prol._

[276] V. 190. shortley gone, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[277] Ver. 196. Neyther bere, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[278] V. 201. Lo myn, Mr. W.

[279] V. 207. May ye nat fayle, _Prol. Ib._ May nat fayle, Mr. W.

[280] [health.]

[281] [hair up by your ear.]

[282] V. 219. above your ere, _Prol._

[283] V. 220. above the kne, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[284] Ver. 223. the same, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[285] [shorten my hair.]

[286] [follow.]

[287] Ver. 251. For I must to the grene wode go, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[288] V. 253. yet is, Camb. copy. Perhaps for yt is.

[289] [ere.]

[290] [_par Dieu_.]

[291] _i.e._ for this cause; tho' I were to die for having loved you.

[292] V. 262. dy with him, Editor's MS.

[293] [went.]

[294] [advice.]

[295] Ver. 278. outbrayd, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[296] V. 282. ye be as, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[297] V. 283. Ye were unkynde to leve me behynde, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[298] [provided.]

[299] Ver. 310. So the Editor's MS. All the printed copies read, Yet wold I be that one.

[300] V. 315. of all, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[301] V. 325. gladder, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[302] [in haste.]

[303] Ver. 340. grete lynyage, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[304] V. 347. Then have, _Prol._

[305] V. 348. And no banyshed, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[306] [let.]

[307] V. 352. This line wanting in _Prol._ and Mr. W.

[308] V. 355. proved--loved, _Prol._ and Mr. W. _Ib._ as loveth, Camb.

[309] V. 357. Forsoth, _Prol._ and Mr. W.

VII.

A BALET BY THE EARL RIVERS.

The amiable light in which the character of Anthony Widville, the gallant Earl Rivers, has been placed by the elegant author of the _Catal. of Noble Writers_ [Horace Walpole], interests us in whatever fell from his pen. It is presumed, therefore, that the insertion of this little sonnet will be pardoned, tho' it should not be found to have much poetical merit. It is the only original poem known of that nobleman's; his more voluminous works being only translations. And if we consider that it was written during his cruel confinement in Pomfret castle a short time before his execution in 1483, it gives us a fine picture of the composure and steadiness with which this stout earl beheld his approaching fate.

This ballad we owe to Rouse, a contemporary historian, who seems to have copied it from the earl's own handwriting. "In tempore," says this writer, "incarcerationis apud Pontem-fractum edidit unum _balet_ in anglicis, ut mihi monstratum est, quod subsequitur sub his verbis: _Sum what musyng_, &c." Rossi, _Hist._ 8vo. 2 ed. p. 213. In Rouse the second stanza, &c. is imperfect, but the defects are here supplied from a more perfect copy printed in _Ancient Songs, from the time of King Henry III. to the Revolution_, p. 87 [by Joseph Ritson].

This little piece, which perhaps ought rather to have been printed in stanzas of eight short lines, is written in imitation of a poem of Chaucer's, that will be found in Urry's ed. 1721, p. 555, beginning thus:

"Alone walkyng, In thought plainyng,
And sore sighying, All desolate.
My remembrying Of my livyng
My death wishyng Bothe erly and late.
Infortunate Is so my fate
That wote ye what, Out of mesure
My life I hate; Thus desperate
In such pore estate, Doe I endure," &c.[310]

* * * * *

[This gallant and learned nobleman (brother of Edward IV.'s queen),
who was murdered in the forty-first year of his age, figures as a
character in Shakspere's _Richard III._, and as a ghost appears to
warn the tyrant on the eve of the battle of Bosworth:

"Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,
Rivers that died at Pomfret! despair and die."]

* * * * *

Sumwhat musyng, And more mornyng,
In remembring The unstydfastnes;
This world being Of such whelyng,
Me contrarieng, What may I gesse?

I fere dowtles, Remediles, 5
Is now to sese My wofull chaunce.
[For unkyndness, Withouten less,
And no redress, Me doth avaunce,

With displesaunce, To my grevaunce,
And no suraunce Of remedy.] 10
Lo in this traunce, Now in substaunce,
Such is my dawnce, Wyllyng to dye.

Me thynkys truly, Bowndyn am I,
And that gretly, To be content:
Seyng playnly, Fortune doth wry[311][312] 15
All contrary From myn entent.

My lyff was lent Me to on intent,
Hytt is ny[313] spent. Welcome fortune!
But I ne went Thus to be shent,[314][315]
But sho[316] hit ment; Such is hur won.[317] 20

FOOTNOTES:

[310] [See Aldine edition of _Chaucer's Poetical Works_, ed. Morris, vol. vi. p. 305. We ought, perhaps, to read "attributed to Chaucer."]

[311] [turn aside.]

[312] Ver. 15. That fortune, Rossi, _Hist._

[313] [it is near.]

[314] [abashed.]

[315] V. 19. went, _i.e._ weened.

[316] [she.]

[317] [wont or custom.]

VIII.

CUPID'S ASSAULT: BY LORD VAUX.

The reader will think that infant poetry grew apace between the times of Rivers and Vaux, tho' nearly contemporaries; if the following song is the composition of that Sir Nicholas (afterwards Lord) Vaux, who was the shining ornament of the court of Henry VII., and died in the year 1523 [1524, see below].

And yet to this lord it is attributed by Puttenham in his _Art of Eng. Poesie_, 1589, 4to., a writer commonly well informed. Take the passage at large: "In this figure [Counterfait Action] the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a noble gentleman and much delighted in vulgar making, and a man otherwise of no great learning, but having herein a marvelous facilitie, made a dittie representing the Battayle and Assault of Cupide, so excellently well, as for the gallant and propre application of his fiction in every part, I cannot choose but set downe the greatest part of his ditty, for in truth it cannot be amended. _When Cupid Scaled_," &c. p. 200. For a farther account of Nicholas, Lord Vaux, see Mr. Walpole's _Noble Authors_, vol. i.

Since this song was first printed off, reasons have occurred which incline me to believe that Lord Vaux, the poet, was not the Lord Nicholas Vaux who died in 1523, but rather a successor of his in the title. For, in the first place, it is remarkable that all the old writers mention Lord Vaux, the poet, as contemporary, or rather posterior, to Sir Thomas Wyat and the E. of Surrey, neither of which made any figure till long after the death of the first Lord Nicholas Vaux. Thus Puttenham, in his _Art of English Poesie_, 1589, in p. 48, having named Skelton, adds: "In the latter end of the same kings raigne [Henry VIII.] sprong up a new company of courtly Makers [Poets], of whom Sir Thomas Wyat th' elder, and Henry Earl of Surrey were the two chieftaines, who having travailed into Italie, and there tasted the sweet and stately measures and stile of the Italian poesie ... greatly polished our rude and homely manner of vulgar poesie.... In the same time, or not long after, was the Lord Nicholas Vaux, a man of much facilitie in vulgar makings."[318] Webbe, in his _Discourse of English Poetrie_, 1586, ranges them in the following order: "The E. of Surrey, the Lord Vaux, Norton, Bristow." And Gascoigne, in the place quoted in the first volume of this work [B. ii. No. 2.] mentions Lord Vaux after Surrey. Again, the stile and measure of Lord Vaux's pieces seem too refined and polished for the age of Henry VII., and rather resemble the smoothness and harmony of Surrey and Wyat, than the rude metre of Skelton and Hawes. But what puts the matter out of all doubt, in the British Museum is a copy of his poem, _I lothe that I did love_ [vid. vol. i. _ubi supra_], with this title, "A dyttye or sonet made by the Lord Vaus, in the time of the noble Quene Marye, representing the image of Death." Harl. MSS. No. 1703, sec. 25.

It is evident then that Lord Vaux, the poet, was not he that flourished in the reign of Henry VII., but either his son or grandson; and yet, according to Dugdale's _Baronage_, the former was named Thomas and the latter William: but this difficulty is not great, for none of the old writers mention the Christian name of the poetic Lord Vaux,[319] except Puttenham; and it is more likely that he might be mistaken in that lord's name, than in the time in which he lived, who was so nearly his contemporary.

Thomas, Lord Vaux, of Harrowden, in Northamptonshire, was summoned to parliament in 1531. When he died does not appear, but he probably lived till the latter end of Queen Mary's reign, since his son William was not summoned to parliament till the last year of that reign, in 1558. This lord died in 1595. See Dugdale, vol. ii. p. 304. Upon the whole I am inclined to believe that Lord Thomas was the poet.

The following copy is printed from the first edition of Surrey's _Poems_, 1557, 4to. See another song of Lord Vaux's in the preceding volume, B. ii. No. 2.

* * * * *

[Percy is correct in his supposition that the poet was Thomas,
second Lord Vaux, and not his father Nicholas, who died May 14th,
1524, only seventeen days after he was advanced to the peerage.]

* * * * *

When Cupide scaled first the fort,
Wherein my hart lay wounded sore;
The batry was of such a sort,
That I must yelde or die therfore.

There sawe I Love upon the wall, 5
How he his banner did display;
Alarme, alarme, he gan to call:
And bad his souldiours kepe aray.

The armes, the which that Cupide bare,
Were pearced hartes with teares besprent,[320] 10
In silver and sable to declare
The stedfast love, he alwayes ment.

There might you se his band all drest
In colours like to white and blacke,
With powder and with pelletes prest 15
To bring the fort to spoile and sacke.

Good-wyll, the maister of the shot,
Stode in the rampire[321] brave and proude,
For spence[322] of pouder he spared not
Assault! assault! to crye aloude. 20

There might you heare the cannons rore;
Eche pece discharged a lovers loke;
Which had the power to rent, and tore
In any place whereas they toke.

And even with the trumpettes sowne[323] 25
The scaling ladders were up set,
And Beautie walked up and downe,
With bow in hand, and arrowes whet.

Then first Desire began to scale,
And shrouded him under 'his' targe;[324][325] 30
As one the worthiest of them all,
And aptest for to geve the charge.

Then pushed souldiers with their pikes,
And halberdes with handy strokes;
The argabushe[326] in fleshe it lightes, 35
And duns the ayre with misty smokes.

And, as it is the souldiers use
When shot and powder gins to want,
I hanged up my flagge of truce,
And pleaded up for my livès grant. 40

When Fansy thus had made her breche,
And Beauty entred with her band,
With bagge and baggage, sely[327] wretch,
I yelded into Beauties hand.

Then Beautie bad to blow retrete, 45
And every souldier to retire,
And mercy wyll'd with spede to set
Me captive bound as prisoner.

Madame, quoth I, sith that this day
Hath served you at all assayes, 50
I yeld to you without delay
Here of the fortresse all the kayes.

And sith that I have ben the marke,
At whom you shot at with your eye;
Nedes must you with your handy warke, 55
Or salve my sore, or let me die.

FOOTNOTES:

[318] _i.e._ Compositions in English.

[319] In the _Paradise of Dainty Devises_, 1596, he is called simply "Lord Vaux the elder."

[320] [besprinkled.]

[321] [rampart.]

[322] [expense.]

[323] [sound.]

[324] Ver. 30. her, ed. 1557, so ed. 1585.

[325] [shield.]

[326] [harquebuss, or old-fashioned musket.]

[327] [simple.]

IX.

SIR ALDINGAR.

This old fabulous legend is given from the Editor's folio MS. with conjectural emendations, and the insertion of some additional stanzas to supply and compleat the story.

It has been suggested to the Editor that the author of this poem seems to have had in his eye the story of Gunhilda, who is sometimes called Eleanor, and was married to the Emperor (here called King) Henry.

Percy's MS. note in his folio is as follows: "Without some
corrections this will not do for my _Reliques_." Readers will be
able to judge for themselves as to the relative beauties of the
two, now that the original is printed at the end of Percy's amended
copy. To make the interpolations more apparent, Percy's added
verses are placed between brackets, and it will be seen that these
contain much of the phraseology and many of the stock prettinesses
of the polite ballad-monger; some of the most vivid bits of the
old ballad being passed over. Percy keeps tolerably to the story,
except that he makes the second messenger one of the queen's
damsels instead of a man. Sir Walter Scott supposes _Sir Aldingar_
to be founded upon the kindred ballad of _Sir Hugh le Blond_, but,
as Professor Child says, without any reason. The story occurs in
most of the literatures of Europe.

* * * * *

Our king he kept a false stewàrde,
Sir Aldingar they him call;
[A falser steward than he was one,
Servde not in bower nor hall.]

He wolde have layne by our comelye queene, 5
Her deere worshippe to betraye:
Our queene she was a good womàn,
And evermore said him naye.

Sir Aldingar was wrothe in his mind,
With her hee was never content, 10
[Till traiterous meanes he colde devyse,]
In a fyer to have her brent.[328]

There came a lazar[329] to the kings gate,
A lazar both blinde and lame:
He tooke the lazar upon his backe, 15
Him on the queenes bed has layne.

"Lye still, lazàr, wheras thou lyest,
Looke thou goe not hence away;
Ile make thee a whole man and a sound
In two howers of the day."[330] 20

Then went him forth sir Aldingar,
[And hyed him to our king:]
"If I might have grace, as I have space,
["Sad tydings I could bring."]

Say on, say on, sir Aldingar, 25
Saye on the soothe[331] to mee.
"Our queene hath chosen a new new lòve,
And shee will have none of thee.

"If shee had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had beene her shame; 30
But she hath chose her a lazar man,
A lazar both blinde and lame."

If this be true, thou Aldingar,
The tyding thou tellest to me,
Then will I make the a rich rich knight, 35
Rich both of golde and fee.

But if it be false, sir Aldingar,
[As God nowe grant it bee!
Thy body, I sweare by the holye rood,]
Shall hang on the gallows tree. 40

[He brought our king to the queenes chambèr,
And opend to him the dore.]
A lodlye[332] love, king Harry says,
For our queene dame Elinore!

If thou were a man, as thou art none, 45
[Here on my sword thoust dye;]
But a payre of new gallowes shall be built,
And there shalt thou hang on hye.

[Forth then hyed our king, I wysse,
And an angry man was hee; 50
And soone he found queene Elinore,
That bride so bright of blee.[333]]

Now God you save, our queene, madame,
And Christ you save and see;
Heere you have chosen a newe newe love, 55
And you will have none of mee.

If you had chosen a right good knight,
The lesse had been your shame:
But you have chose you a lazar man,
A lazar both blinde and lame. 60

[Therfore a fyer there shall be built,
And brent all shalt thou bee.----]
"Now out alacke!" said our comly queene,
"Sir Aldingar's false to mee.

Now out alacke!" sayd our comlye queene, 65
[My heart with griefe will brast.[334]]
I had thought swevens[335] had never been true,
I have proved them true at last.

I dreamt in my sweven on thursday eve,
In my bed wheras I laye, 70
I dreamt a grype[336] and a grimlie beast
Had carryed my crowne awaye;

My gorgett[337] and my kirtle[338] of golde,
And all my faire head-geere:
And he wold worrye me with his tush[339] 75
And to his nest y-beare:

Saving there came a litle 'gray' hawke,[340]
A merlin him they call,
Which untill the grounde did strike the grype,
That dead he downe did fall. 80

Giffe[341] I were a man, as now I am none,
A battell wold I prove,
To fight with that traitor Aldingar;
Att him I cast my glove.

But seeing Ime able noe battell to make, 85
My liege, grant me a knight
To fight with that traitor sir Aldingar,
To maintaine me in my right."

"Now forty dayes I will give thee
To seeke thee a knight therin: 90
If thou find not a knight in forty dayes
Thy bodye it must brenn."

[Then shee sent east, and shee sent west,
By north and south bedeene:[342]
But never a champion colde she find,] 95
Wolde fight with that knight soe keene.

[Now twenty dayes were spent and gone,
Noe helpe there might be had;
Many a teare shed our comelye queene
And aye her hart was sad. 100

Then came one of the queenes damsèlles,
And knelt upon her knee,
"Cheare up, cheare up, my gracious dame,
I trust yet helpe may be:

"And here I will make mine avowe,[343] 105
And with the same me binde;
That never will I return to thee,
Till I some helpe may finde."

Then forth she rode on a faire palfràye
Oer hill and dale about: 110
But never a champion colde she finde,
Wolde fighte with that knight so stout.

And nowe the daye drewe on a pace,
When our good queene must dye;
All woe-begone was that faire damsèlle, 115
When she found no helpe was nye.

All woe-begone was that faire damsèlle,
And the salt teares fell from her eye:]
When lo! as she rode by a rivers side,
She met with a tinye boye. 120

[A tinye boye she mette, God wot,
All clad in mantle of golde;]
He seemed noe more in mans likenèsse,
Then a childe of four yeere olde.

[Why grieve you, damselle faire, he sayd, 125
And what doth cause you moane?
The damsell scant wolde deigne a looke,
But fast she pricked on.]

Yet turn againe, thou faïre damsèlle,
And greete thy queene from mee: 130
When bale[344] is att hyest, boote[345] is nyest,
Nowe helpe enoughe may bee.

Bid her remember what she dreamt
In her bedd, wheras shee laye;
How when the grype and the grimly beast 135
Wolde have carried her crowne awaye,

Even then there came the litle gray hawke,
And saved her from his clawes:
Then bidd the queene be merry at hart,
[For heaven will fende[346] her cause.] 140

Back then rode that faire damsèlle,
And her hart it lept for glee:
And when she told her gracious dame
A gladd woman then was shee.

[But when the appointed day was come, 145
No helpe appeared nye:
Then woeful, woeful was her hart,
And the teares stood in her eye.

And nowe a fyer was built of wood;
And a stake was made of tree; 150
And now queene Elinor forth was led,
A sorrowful sight to see.

Three times the herault he waved his hand,
And three times spake on hye:
Giff any good knight will fende this dame, 155
Come forth, or she must dye.

No knight stood forth, no knight there came,
No helpe appeared nye:
And now the fyer was lighted up,
Queen Elinor she must dye. 160

And now the fyer was lighted up,
As hot as hot might bee;]
When riding upon a little white steed,
The tinye boy they see.

"Away with that stake, away with those brands, 165
And loose our comelye queene:
I am come to fight with sir Aldingar,
And prove him a traitor keene."

Forthe then stood sir Aldingar,
But when he saw the chylde, 170
He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe,
And weened[347] he had been beguylde.

"Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar,
And eyther fighte or flee;
I trust that I shall avenge the wronge, 175
Thoughe I am so small to see."

The boye pulld forth a well good sworde
So gilt it dazzled the ee;
The first stroke stricken at Aldingar
Smote off his leggs by the knee. 180

"Stand up, stand up, thou false traitòr,
And fight upon thy feete,
For and thou thrive, as thou begin'st,
Of height wee shall be meete."

A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr, 185
While I am a man alive.
A priest, a priest, sayes Aldingàr,
Me for to houzle and shrive.[348]

I wolde have laine by our comlie queene,
Bot shee wolde never consent; 190
Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge
In a fyer to have her brent.

There came a lazar to the kings gates,
A lazar both blind and lame:
I tooke the lazar upon my backe, 195
And on her bedd had him layne.

[Then ranne I to our comlye king,
These tidings sore to tell.]
But ever alacke! sayes Aldingar,
Falsing never doth well. 200

Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame,
The short time I must live.
"Nowe Christ forgive thee, Aldingar,
As freely I forgive."

Here take thy queene, our king Harryè, 205
And love her as thy life,
[For never had a king in Christentye,
A truer and fairer wife.

King Henrye ran to claspe his queene,
And loosèd her full sone: 210
Then turnd to look for the tinye boye;
----The boye was vanisht and gone.

But first he had touchd the lazar man,
And stroakt him with his hand:
The lazar under the gallowes tree 215
All whole and sounde did stand.]

The lazar under the gallowes tree
Was comelye, straight and tall;
King Henrye made him his head stewàrde
To wayte withinn his hall. 220

[***]

* * * * *

[The following is the original version from the folio MS reprinted
from Hales and Furnivall's ed. vol. i. p. 166:

Our king he kept a ffalse steward,
men called him Sir Aldingar
he wold haue layen by our comely queene,
her deere worshipp to haue betraide. 4
our queene shee was a good woman,
& euer more said him nay.

Aldingar was offended in his mind,
with her hee was neuer content, 8
but he sought what meanes he cold find out,
in a fyer to haue her brent.

There came a lame lazer to the Kings gates,
a lazer was [b]lind & lame; 12
he tooke the lazer vpon his backe,
vpon the queenes bed he did him lay:

he said, "lye still, lazer, wheras thou lyest,
looke thou goe not away, 16
Ile make thee a whole man & a sound
in 2 howres of a day."

& then went forth Sir Aldingar
our Queene for to betray, 20
and then he mett with our comlye King,
saies, "god you saue & see!

"If I had space as I haue grace,
A message I wold say to thee." 24
"Say on, say on, Sir Aldingar,
say thou on and vnto me."

"I can let you now see one of [the] greiuos[est] sights
that euer Christen King did see: 28
Our Queene hath chosen a New New loue,
She will haue none of thee;

"If shee had chosen a right good Knight,
the lesse had beene her shame, 32
but she hath chosen a Lazar man
which is both blinde & lame."

"If this be true, thou Aldingar,
that thou dost tell to me, 36
then will I make thee a rich Knight
both of gold and fee;

"But if it be false, Sir Aldingar,
that thou doest tell to me, 40
then looke for noe other death
but to be hangd on a tree.
goe with me," saide our comly king,
"this Lazar for to see." 44

When the King he came into the queenes chamber,
standing her bed befor,
"there is a lodly lome," says Harry King
"for our dame Queene Elinor! 48

"If thou were a man, as thou art none,
here thou sholdest be slaine;
but a paire of new gallowes shall be biil[t]
thoust hang on them soe hye; 52

"and fayre fyer there shalbe bett,
and brent our Queene shal bee."
fforth then walked our comlye King,
& mett with our comly Queene, 56

saies, "God you saue, our Queene, Madam,
and Christ you saue & see!
heere you [haue] chosen a new new loue,
and you will haue none of mee. 60

"If you had chosen a right good Knight
the lesse he beene your shame,
but you haue chosen a lazar man
that is both blind & lame." 64

"Euer alacke!" said our comly Queene,
"Sir Aldingar is false to mee;
but euer alacke!" said our comly Queene,
"Euer alas, & woe is mee! 68

"I had thought sweuens had neuer been true;
I haue prooued them true at the last;
I dreamed in my sweauen on thursday at eueninge
in my bed wheras I lay, 72

"I dreamed the grype & a grimlie beast
had carryed my crowne away,
my gorgett & my kirtle of golde,
and all my faire heade geere; 76

"How he wold haue worryed me with his tush
& borne me into his nest,
saving there came a litle hawk
flying out of the East, 80
"saving there came a litle Hawke
which men call a Merlion,
vntill the ground he stroke him downe,
that dead he did fall downe. 84

"giffe I were a man, as I am none,
a battell I would proue,
I wold fight with that false traitor;
att him I cast my gloue! 88

"Seing I am able noe battell to make,
you must grant me, my leege, a Knight
to fight with that traitor, Sir Aldingar,
to maintaine me in my right." 92

"Ile giue thee 40 dayes," said our King,
"to seeke thee a man therin;
if thou find not a man in 40 dayes,
in a hott fyer thou shall brenn." 96

Our Queene sent forth a Messenger,
he rode fast into the south,
he rode the countryes through & through,
soe ffar vnto Portsmouth; 100

he cold find never a man in the south country
that wold fight with the knight soe keene.

the second messenger the Queen forth sent,
rode far into the east, 104
but--blessed be God made sunn and moone!--
he sped then all of the best:

as he rode then by one riuer side,
there he mett with a litle child, 108
he seemed noe more in a mans likenesse
then a child of 4 yeeres old;

He askt the Queenes Messenger how far he rode:
loth he was him to tell; 112
the litle one was offended att him,
bid him adew, farwell!

Said, "turne thou againe, thou messenger,
greete our Queene well from me; 116
when Bale is att hyest, boote is att next,
helpe enough there may bee!

"bid our queene remember what she did dreame
in her bedd wheras shee lay; 120
shee dreamed the grype & the grimly beast
had carryed her crowne away,

"her gorgett & her kirt[l]e of gold,
alsoe her faire head geere, 124
ne wold have werryed her with his tushe
& borne her into her nest,

"Saving there came a litle hawke--
men call him a merlyon-- 128
vntill the ground he did strike him downe,
that dead he did ffall downe.

"bidd the queene be merry att her hart,
euermore light & glad, 132
when bale is att hyest, boote is at next,
helpe enoughe there shalbe [had."]

then the Queenes Messenger rode backe,
a gladed man then was hee; 136
when he came before our Queene,
a gladd woman then was shee;

shee gaue the Messenger 20^{li}:
O lord, in gold & ffee, 140
saies, "spend & spare not while this doth last,
then feitch thou more of me."

Our Queene was put in a tunne to burne,
She thought no thing but death; 144
thé were ware of the litle one
came ryding forth of the East

with a Mu (_line cut away_) ...
a louelie child was hee: 148
when he came to that fier,
he light the Queene full nigh;

said, "draw away these brands of fire
lie burning before our Queene, 152
& feitch me hither Sir Aldingar
that is a knight soe keene."

When Aldingar see that litle one,
ffull litle of him hee thought, 156
if there had beene halfe a 100 such,
of them he wold not haue wrought.

hee sayd, "come hither Sir Aldingar,
thou see-must as bigge as a ffooder! 160
I trust to god, ere I haue done with thee,
God will send to vs anger."

saies, "the first stroke thats giuen, Sir Aldingar,
I will giue vnto thee, 164
& if the second giue thou may,
looke then thou spare not mee."

the litle one pulld forth a well good sword,
I-wis itt was all of guilt, 168
it cast light there over that feild,
it shone soe all of guilt:

he stroke the first stroke att Aldingar,
he stroke away his leggs by his knee, 172

sayes, "stand vp, stand vp, thou false traitor,
& fight vpon thy feete!
"for & thou thriue as thou begins,
of a height wee shalbe meete." 176

"A preist, a preist!" sayes Aldingar,
"me for to houzle & shriue!
A preist, a preist," sayes Aldingar,
"while I am a man liuing a-liue! 180

"I wold haue laine by our comlie Queene;
to it shee wold neuer consent;
I thought to haue betrayed her to our King,
in a fyer to haue had her brent; 184

"there came a lame lazer to the Kings gates,
a lazar both blind & lame;

"I tooke the lazar vpon my backe,
in the Queenes bed I did him lay, 188
I bad him 'lie still, Lazar, where he lay,
looke he went not away,
I wold make him a whole man & a sound
in 2 houres of a day.' 192

"euer alacke!" sayes Sir Aldingar,
"falsing neuer doth well;

"forgiue, forgiue me, Queene, Madam!
for Christs loue forgiue me!" 196
"God forgaue his death, Aldingar,
& freely I forgiue thee."

"Now take thy wife, thou K[ing] Harry,
& loue her as thou shold; 200
thy wiffe shee is a[s] true to thee
as stone that lies on the castle wall."

the Lazar vnder the gallow tree
was a pretty man & small, 204
the Lazar vnder the gallow tree
was made steward in King Henerys hall.

ffins.]

FOOTNOTES:

[328] [burnt.]

[329] [leper.]

[330] He probably insinuates that the king should heal him by his power of touching for the king's evil.

[331] [truth.]

[332] [loathsome.]

[333] [complexion.]

[334] [burst.]

[335] [dreams.]

[336] [griffin.]

[337] [neckerchief.]

[338] [petticoat.]

[339] [tooth.]

[340] Ver. 77. see below, v. 137.

[341] [if.]

[342] [immediately.]

[343] [vow or oath.]

[344] [evil.]

[345] [help.]

[346] [defend.]

[347] [supposed.]

[348] [to give the sacrament and to confess.]

X.

THE GABERLUNYIE MAN.

A SCOTTISH SONG.

Tradition informs us that the author of this song was King James V. of Scotland. This prince (whose character for wit and libertinism bears a great resemblance to that of his gay successor, Charles II.) was noted for strolling about his dominions in disguise,[349] and for his frequent gallantries with country girls. Two adventures of this kind he hath celebrated with his own pen, viz. in this ballad of _The Gaberlunyie Man_; and in another intitled _The Jolly Beggar_, beginning thus:

"Thair was a jollie beggar, and a begging he was boun,
And he tuik up his quarters into a land'art toun.
Fa, la, la," &c.