Chapter 3

She's lookit oer her left shoulder To hide the tears stood in her ee; "Now fare thee well, Young Bicham," she says, "I'll strive to think nae mair on thee."

"Take back your daughter, madam," he says, "An a double dowry I'll gi her wi; For I maun marry my first true love, That's done and suffered so much for me."

He's take his bonny love by the ban, And led her to yon fountain stane; He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye, An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBEY

The fifteenth day of July, With glistering spear and shield, A famous fight in Flanders Was foughten in the field: The most couragious officers Were English captains three; But the bravest man in battel Was brave Lord Willoughbèy.

The next was Captain Norris, A valiant man was hee: The other Captain Turner, From field would never flee. With fifteen hundred fighting men, Alas! there were no more, They fought with fourteen thousand then, Upon the bloody shore.

Stand to it, noble pikemen, And look you round about: And shoot you right, you bow-men, And we will keep them out: You musquet and callèver men, Do you prove true to me, I'le be the formost man in fight, Says brave Lord Willoughbèy.

And then the bloody enemy They fiercely did assail, And fought it out most furiously, Not doubting to prevail: The wounded men on both sides fell Most pitious for to see, Yet nothing could the courage quell Of brave Lord Willoughbèy.

For seven hours to all mens view This fight endured sore, Until our men so feeble grew That they could fight no more; And then upon dead horses Full savourly they eat, And drank the puddle water, They could no better get.

When they had fed so freely, They kneeled on the ground, And praised God devoutly For the favour they had found; And beating up their colours, The fight they did renew, And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, A thousand more they slew.

The sharp steel-pointed arrows, And bullets thick did fly, Then did our valiant soldiers Charge on most furiously; Which made the Spaniards waver, They thought it best to flee, They fear'd the stout behaviour Of brave Lord Willoughbey.

Then quoth the Spanish general, Come let us march away, I fear we shall be spoiled all If here we longer stay; For yonder comes Lord Willoughbey With courage fierce and fell, He will not give one inch of way For all the devils in hell.

And then the fearful enemy Was quickly put to flight, Our men persued couragiously, And caught their forces quite; But at last they gave a shout, Which ecchoed through the sky, God, and St. George for England! The conquerors did cry.

This news was brought to England With all the speed might be, And soon our gracious queen was told Of this same victory. O this is brave Lord Willoughbey, My love that ever won, Of all the lords of honour 'Tis he great deeds hath done.

To the souldiers that were maimed, And wounded in the fray, The queen allowed a pension Of fifteen pence a day; And from all costs and charges She quit and set them free: And this she did all for the sake Of brave Lord Willoughbey.

Then courage, noble Englishmen, And never be dismaid; If that we be but one to ten, We will not be afraid To fight with foraign enemies, And set our nation free. And thus I end the bloody bout Of brave Lord Willoughbey.

THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE

Will you hear a Spanish lady, How shed wooed an English man? Garments gay and rich as may be Decked with jewels she had on. Of a comely countenance and grace was she, And by birth and parentage of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her, In his hands her life did lye! Cupid's bands did tye 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 the ladies free, With their jewels still adorned, None to do them injury. Then said this lady mild, Full woe is me; O let me still sustain this kind captivity!

Gallant captain, shew some pity To a ladye in distresse; Leave me not within this city, For to dye in heavinesse: Thou hast this present day my body free, But my heart in prison still remains with thee.

"How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, Whom thou knowest thy country's foe? Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee: Serpents lie where flowers grow." All the harme I wishe to thee, most courteous knight, God grant the same upon my head may fully light.

Blessed be the time and season, That you came on Spanish ground; If our foes you may be termed, Gentle foes we have you found: With our city, you have won our hearts eche one, Then to your country bear away, that is your owne.

"Rest you still, most gallant lady; Rest you still, and weep no more; Of fair lovers there is plenty, Spain doth yield a wonderous store." Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find, But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.

Leave me not unto a Spaniard, You alone enjoy my heart: I am lovely, young, and tender, Love is likewise my desert: Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest; The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.

"It wold be a shame, fair lady, For to bear a woman hence; English soldiers never carry Any such without offence." I'll quickly change myself, if it be so, And like a page He follow thee, where'er thou go.

"I have neither gold nor silver To maintain thee in this case, And to travel is great charges, As you know in every place." My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own, And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.

"On the seas are many dangers, Many storms do there arise, Which wil be to ladies dreadful, And force tears from watery eyes." Well in troth I shall endure extremity, For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.

"Courteous ladye, leave this fancy, 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; Of my suit I make an end: On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, Which did from love and true affection first commence.

Commend me to thy lovely lady, Bear to her this chain of gold; And these bracelets for a token; Grieving that I was so bold: All 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 her laws defye; In a nunnery will I shroud mee Far from any companye: 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 too my heart's content! Count not Spanish ladies wanton, Though to thee my love was bent: Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee! "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie."

THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY

It was a friar of orders gray Walkt forth to tell his beades; And he met with a lady faire, Clad in a pilgrime's weedes.

Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar, I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine My true love thou didst see.

And how should I know your true love From many another one? O by his cockle hat, and staff, And by his sandal shoone.

But chiefly by his face and mien, That were so fair to view; His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd, And eyne of lovely blue.

O lady, he is dead and gone! Lady, he's dead and gone! And at his head a green grass turfe, And at his heels a stone.

Within these holy cloysters long He languisht, and he dyed, Lamenting of a ladyes love, And 'playning of her pride.

Here bore him barefac'd on his bier Six proper youths and tall, And many a tear bedew'd his grave Within yon kirk-yard wall.

And art thou dead, thou gentle youth! And art thou dead and gone! And didst thou die for love of me! Break, cruel heart of stone!

O weep not, lady, weep not soe; Some ghostly comfort seek: Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart, Ne teares bedew thy cheek.

O do not, do not, holy friar, My sorrow now reprove; For I have lost the sweetest youth, That e'er wan ladyes love.

And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse, I'll evermore weep and sigh; For thee I only wisht to live, For thee I wish to dye.

Weep no more, lady, weep no more, Thy sorrowe is in vaine: For violets pluckt the sweetest showers Will ne'er make grow againe.

Our joys as winged dreams doe flye, Why then should sorrow last? Since grief but aggravates thy losse, Grieve not for what is past.

O say not soe, thou holy friar; I pray thee, say not soe: For since my true-love dyed for mee, 'Tis meet my tears should flow.

And will he ne'er come again? Will he ne'er come again? Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave, For ever to remain.

His cheek was redder than the rose; The comliest youth was he! But he is dead and laid in his grave: Alas, and woe is me!

Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever: One foot on sea and one on land, To one thing constant never.

Hadst thou been fond, he had been false, And left thee sad and heavy; For young men ever were fickle found, Since summer trees were leafy.

Now say not so, thou holy friar, I pray thee say not soe; My love he had the truest heart: O he was ever true!

And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth, And didst thou dye for mee? Then farewell home; for ever-more A pilgrim I will bee.

But first upon my true-loves grave My weary limbs I'll lay, And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf, That wraps his breathless clay.

Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile Beneath this cloyster wall: See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, And drizzly rain doth fall.

O stay me not, thou holy friar; O stay me not, I pray; No drizzly rain that falls on me, Can wash my fault away.

Yet stay, fair lady, turn again, And dry those pearly tears; For see beneath this gown of gray Thy own true-love appears.

Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love, These holy weeds I sought; And here amid these lonely walls To end my days I thought.

But haply for my year of grace Is not yet past away, Might I still hope to win thy love, No longer would I stay.

Now farewell grief, and welcome joy Once more unto my heart; For since I have found thee, lovely youth, We never more will part.