BOOK VII

Chapter 174,032 wordsPublic domain

_154. Lady Alice_

Lady Alice was sitting in her bower-window, Mending her midnight quoif, And there she saw as fine a corpse As ever she saw in her life.

‘What bear ye, what bear ye, ye six men tall? What bear ye on your shouldèrs?’-- ‘We bear the corpse of Giles Collins, An old and true lover of yours.’--

III

‘O lay him down gently, ye six men tall, All on the grass so green, And to-morrow, when the sun goes down, Lady Alice a corpse shall be seen.

‘And bury me in Saint Mary’s church, All for my love so true, And make me a garland of marjoram, And of lemon-thyme, and rue.’

Giles Collins was buried all in the east, Lady Alice all in the west, And the roses that grew on Giles Collins’s grave, They reached Lady Alice’s breast.

The priest of the parish he chanced to pass, And he sever’d those roses in twain; Sure never were seen such true lovers before, Nor e’er will there be again.

_155. Lord Lovel_

Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate, Combing his milk-white steed, When up came Lady Nancy Belle, To wish her lover good speed.

‘Where are you going, Lord Lovel?’ she said, ‘Oh where are you going?’ said she. ‘I’m going, my Lady Nancy Belle, Strange countries for to see.’

III

‘When will you be back, Lord Lovel?’ she said, ‘Oh when will you come back?’ said she. ‘In a year, or two, or three at the most, I’ll return to my fair Nancỳ.’

But he had not been gone a year and a day, Strange countries for to see, When languishing thoughts came into his head, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.

So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London town, And there he heard St. Pancras’ bells, And the people all mourning round.

‘Oh what is the matter?’ Lord Lovel he said, ‘Oh what is the matter?’ said he; ‘A lord’s lady is dead,’ a woman replied, ‘And some call her Lady Nancỳ.’

VII

So he order’d the grave to be open’d wide. And the shroud he turnèd down, And there he kiss’d her clay-cold lips, Till the tears came trickling down.

VIII

Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today, Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow; Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.

Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras’ Church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, And out of her lover’s a briar.

They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple top, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true-lovers’ knot, For all lovers true to admire.

_156. The Trees So High_

All the trees they are so high, The leaves they are so green, The day is past and gone, sweet-heart, That you and I have seen. It is cold winter’s night, You and I must bide alone: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.

In a garden as I walked, I heard them laugh and call; There were four and twenty playing there, They played with bat and ball. O the rain on the roof, Here and I must make my moan: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.

III

I listen’d in the garden, I lookèd o’er the wall; ‘Midst five and twenty gallants there My love exceeded all. O the wind on the thatch, Here and I alone must weep: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.

O father, father dear, Great wrong to me is done. That I should married be this day, Before the set of sun. At the huffle of the gale, Here I toss and cannot sleep: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.

My daughter, daughter dear, If better be, more fit, I’ll send him to the court awhile, To point his pretty wit. But the snow, snowflakes fall, O and I am chill as dead: Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.

To let the lovely ladies know They may not touch and taste, I’ll bind a bunch of ribbons red About his little waist. But the raven hoarsely croaks, And I shiver in my bed; Whilst my pretty lad is young And is growing.

VII

I married was, alas, A lady high to be, In court and stall and stately hall, And bower of tapestry. But the bell did only knell, And I shuddered as one cold: When I wed the pretty lad Not done growing.

VIII

At fourteen he wedded was, A father at fifteen, At sixteen ’s face was white as milk, And then his grave was green; And the daisies were outspread, And buttercups of gold, O’er my pretty lad so young Now ceased growing.

_157. The Brown Girl_

‘I am as brown as brown can be, My eyes as black as a sloe; I am as brisk as a nightingale, And as wild as any doe.

‘My love has sent me a love-letter, Not far from yonder town, That he could not fancy me, Because I was so brown.

III

‘I sent him his letter back again, For his love I valu’d not, Whether that he could fancy me Or whether he could not.

‘He sent me his letter back again, That he lay sick to death, That I might then go speedily To give him up his faith.’

Now you shall hear what love she had Then for this love-sick man; She was a whole long summer’s day In a mile a going on.

When she came to her love’s bed-side, Where he lay dangerous sick, She could not for laughing stand Upright upon her feet.

VII

She had a white wand all in her hand, And smooth’d it all on his breast; ‘In faith and troth come pardon me, I hope your soul’s at rest.’--

VIII

‘Prithee,’ said he, ‘forget, forget, Prithee forget, forgive; O grant me yet a little space, That I may be well and live.’--

‘O never will I forget, forgive, So long as I have breath; I’ll dance above your green, green grave Where you do lie beneath.

‘I’ll do as much for my true-love As other maidens may; I’ll dance and sing on my love’s grave A whole twelvemonth and a day.’

_158. Barbara Allan’s Cruelty_

In Scarlet town, where I was born, There was a fair maid dwellin’, Made every youth cry _Well-a-way!_ Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swellin’, Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay, For love of Barbara Allen.

III

He sent his man in to her then, To the town where she was dwellin’ ‘O haste and come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen.’

So slowly, slowly rase she up, And slowly she came nigh him, And when she drew the curtain by-- ‘Young man, I think you’re dyin’.’

‘O it’s I am sick and very very sick, And it’s all for Barbara Allen.’-- ‘O the better for me ye’se never be, Tho’ your heart’s blood were a-spillin’!

‘O dinna ye mind, young man,’ says she, ‘When the red wine ye were fillin’, That ye made the healths go round and round, And slighted Barbara Allen?’

VII

He turn’d his face unto the wall, And death was with him dealin’: ‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, And be kind to Barbara Allen!’

VIII

As she was walking o’er the fields, She heard the dead-bell knellin’; And every jow[1290] the dead-bell gave Cried ‘Woe to Barbara Allen.’

‘O mother, mother, make my bed, O make it saft and narrow: My love has died for me to-day, I’ll die for him to-morrow.

‘Farewell,’ she said, ‘ye virgins all, And shun the fault I fell in: Henceforth take warning by the fall Of cruel Barbara Allen.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1290] jow = beat, toll.

_159. The Gardener_

The gardener stands in his bower-door, With a primrose in his hand, And by there came a leal[1291] maiden As jimp[1292] as a willow wand.

‘O lady, can you fancy me, For to be my bride? Ye’se get a’ the flowers in my garden To be to you a weed[1293].

III

‘The lily white sall be your smock Becomes your body best; Your head sall be busk’d wi’ gillyflower And the primrose in your breast.

‘Your gown sall be the sweet-william, Your coat the camovine[1294], Your apron a’ the salluds neat That taste baith sweet and fine.

‘Your stockings sall be o’ the braid kail-blade, That is baith braid and lang; And narrow, narrow at the cute[1295], And braid, braid at the brawn[1296].

‘Your gloves sall be the marigold, All glittering to your hand, Well spread o’er wi’ the blue blaewort[1297] That grows amang corn-land.’--

VII

‘O fare ye well, young man,’ she says, ‘Farewell, and I bid adieu; If you can fancy me,’ she says, ‘O I cannot fancy you.

VIII

‘Sin ye’ve provided a weed for me Amang the summer flowers, Then I’se provide anither for you Amang the winter showers.--

‘The new-fa’n snaw to be your smock Becomes your body best; An’ your head sall be wound wi’ the eastern wind, An’ the cauld rain on your breast.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1291] leal = true.

[1292] jimp = slender.

[1293] weed = clothing.

[1294] camovine = camomile.

[1295] cute = ankle.

[1296] brawn = calf.

[1297] blaewort = corn bluebottle.

_160. The Lowlands o’ Holland_

‘My love has built a bonny ship, and set her on the sea, With seven score good mariners to bear her companỳ; There’s three score is sunk, and three score dead at sea, And the Lowlands o’ Holland has twin’d[1298] my love and me.

‘My love he built another ship, and set her on the main, And nane but twenty mariners for to bring her hame; But the weary wind began to rise, and the sea began to rout, My love then and his bonny ship turn’d withershins[1299] about.

III

‘Then shall neither coif come on my head nor comb come in my hair; Then shall neither coal nor candle-light shine in my bower mair; Nor will I love another one until the day I die, Sin’ the Lowlands o’ Holland has twin’d my love and me.’--

‘O haud your tongue, my daughter dear, be still and be content; There are mair lads in Galloway, ye neen nae sair lament.’-- ‘O there is none in Gallow, there’s none at a’ for me, For I never loved a love but one, and he’s drown’d in the sea.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1298] twin’d = parted.

[1299] withershins = around against the sun.

_161. The Spanish Lady’s Love_

Will you hear a Spanish lady How she woo’d 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 lie; Cupid’s bands did tie her 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.

III

At the last there came commandment For to set the ladies free, With their jewels still adornèd, None to do them injury: ‘Alas!’ then said this lady gay, ‘full woe is me; 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; Thou hast set this present day my body free, But my heart in prison strong remains with thee.’--

‘How should’st 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 think to thee, most gracious knight, God grant unto myself the same may fully light:

‘Blessèd be the time and season That you came on Spanish ground; If our foes you may be termèd, 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.’--

VII

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

VIII

‘Leave me not unto a Spaniard; You alone enjoy my heart; I am lovely, young, and tender, And so love is my desart. Still to serve thee day and night my mind is press’d; The wife of every Englishman is counted blest.’--

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

‘I have neither gold nor silver To maintain thee in this case, And to travel, ’tis great charges, As you know, in every place.’-- ‘My chains and jewels every one shall be thine own, And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.’--

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

XII

‘Courteous lady, leave this fancy; Here comes all that bleeds the strife; I in England have already A sweet woman to my wife: I will not falsify my vow for gold or gain, Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.’--

XIII

‘Oh how happy is that woman, That enjoys so true a friend! Many happy days God send you! Of my suit I’ll make an end: On my knees I pardon crave for this offence, Which did from love and true affection first commence.

XIV

‘Commend me to thy loving 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 bear 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 will I shroud me, Far from any company: But ere my prayers have end, be sure of this, To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.

XVI

‘Thus farewell, most gentle captain, Farewell too my heart’s content! Count not Spanish ladies wayward, Though to thee my love was bent: Joy and true prosperity go still with thee!’-- ‘The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladỳ!’

_162. The Bailiff’s Daughter of Islington_

There was a youth, and a well-belovèd youth, And he was an esquire’s son, He loved the bailiff’s daughter dear, That lived in Islington.

But she was coy, and she would not believe That he did love her so, No, nor at any time she would Any countenance to him show.

III

But when his friends did understand His fond and foolish mind, They sent him up to fair London, An apprentice for to bind.

And when he had been seven long years, And his love he had not seen; ‘Many a tear have I shed for her sake When she little thought of me.’

All the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and play; All but the bailiff’s daughter dear; She secretly stole away.

She put off her gown of gray, And put on her puggish[1300] attire; She’s up to fair London gone, Her true-love to require.

VII

As she went along the road, The weather being hot and dry, There was she aware of her true-love, At length came riding by.

VIII

She stept to him, as red as any rose, And took him by the bridle-ring: ‘I pray you, kind sir, give me one pennỳ, To ease my weary limb.’--

‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Where that thou wast born?’-- ‘At Islington, kind sir,’ said she, ‘Where I have had many a scorn.’--

‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me Whether thou dost know The bailiff’s daughter of Islington?’-- ‘She’s dead, sir, long ago.’--

‘Then will I sell my goodly steed, My saddle and my bow; I will into some far countrey, Where no man doth me know.’--

XII

‘Oh stay, O stay, thou goodly youth! She’s alive, she is not dead; Here she standeth by thy side, And is ready to be thy bride.’--

XIII

‘O farewell grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times and o’er! For now I have seen my own true-love, That I thought I should have seen no more.’

FOOTNOTES:

[1300] puggish = tramp’s.

_163. The Blind Beggar’s Daughter of Bednall-Green_

It was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight, He had a fair daughter of beauty most bright; And many a gallant brave suitor had she, For none was so comely as pretty Bessee.

And though she was of favour most faire, Yet seeing she was but a poor beggar’s heyre. Of ancyent housekeepers despisèd was she, Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.

III

Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessy did say, ‘Good father, and mother, let me go away To seek out my fortune, whatever it be.’ This suit then they granted to pretty Bessee.

Then Bessy, that was of beauty so bright, All clad in grey russet, and late in the night, From father and mother alone parted she; Who sighèd and sobbèd for pretty Bessee.

She went till she came to Stratford-le-Bow; Then knew she not whither, nor which way to go: With tears she lamented her hard destinìe, So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.

She kept on her journey until it was day, She went unto Rumford along the high way; Where at the Queen’s Arms entertainèd was she: So fair and well favoured was pretty Bessee.

VII

She had not been there a month to an end, But master and mistress and all was her friend: And every brave gallant, that once did her see, Was straightway enamour’d of pretty Bessee.

VIII

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, And in their songs daily her love was extoll’d; Her beauty was blazèd in every degree; So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy; She showed herself courteous, and modestly coy; And at her commandèment still would they be; So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

Four suitors at once unto her did go; They cravèd her favour, but still she said ‘no; I would not wish gentles to marry with me.’-- Yet ever they honoured pretty Bessee.

The first of them was a gallant young knight, And he came unto her disguised in the night: The second a gentleman of good degree, Who wooèd and suèd for pretty Bessee.

XII

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, He was the third suitor, and proper withal: Her master’s own son the fourth man must be, Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee.

XIII

‘And, if thou wilt marry with me,’ quoth the knight, ‘I’ll make thee a lady with joy and delight; My heart so enthrallèd is by thy beautìe, That soon I shall die for pretty Bessee.’

XIV

The gentleman said, ‘Come, marry with me, As fine as a lady my Bessy shall be: My life is distressèd: O hear me,’ quoth he; ‘And grant me thy love, my pretty Bessee.’--

‘Let me be thy husband,’ the merchant did say, ‘Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay; My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee, And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.’

XVI

Then Bessy she sighed, and thus she did say, ‘My father and mother I mean to obey; First get their good will, and be faithful to me, And then you shall marry your pretty Bessee.’

XVII

To every one this answer she made, Wherefore unto her they joyfully said, ‘This thing to fulfil we all do agree; But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?’

XVIII

‘My father,’ she said, ‘is soon to be seen: The silly blind beggar of Bednall-green, That daily sits begging for charitìe, He is the good father of pretty Bessee.

XIX

‘His marks and his tokens are known very well; He always is led with a dog and a bell: A silly old man, God knoweth, is he, Yet he is the father of pretty Bessee.’

‘Nay then,’ quoth the merchant, ‘thou art not for me!’ ‘Nor,’ quoth the innholder, ‘my wife thou shalt be.’ ‘I lothe,’ said the gentle, ‘a beggar’s degree, And therefore adieu, my pretty Bessee!’

XXI

‘Why then,’ quoth the knight, ‘hap better or worse, I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse, And beauty is beauty in every degree; Then welcome unto me, my pretty Bessee.

XXII

‘With thee to thy father forthwith I will go.’-- ‘Nay soft,’ quoth his kinsmen, ‘it must not be so; A poor beggar’s daughter no lady shall be, Then take thy adieu of pretty Bessee.’

XXIII

But soon after this, by break of the day The Knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away. The young men of Rumford, as thick as might be, Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessee.

XXIV

As swift as the wind to ryde they were seen, Until they came near unto Bednall-green; And as the Knight lighted most courteouslìe, They all fought against him for pretty Bessee.

XXV

But rescue came speedily over the plain, Or else the young Knight for his love had been slain. This fray being ended, then straightway he see His kinsmen come railing at pretty Bessee.

XXVI

Then spake the blind beggar, ‘Although I be poor, Yet rail not against my child at my own door: Though she be not deckèd in velvet and pearl, Yet will I drop angels with you for my girl.

XXVII

‘And then, if my gold may better her birth, And equal the gold that you lay on the earth, Then neither rail nor grudge you to see The blind beggar’s daughter a lady to be.

XXVIII

‘But first you shall promise, and have it well known, The gold that you dropt shall all be your own.’ With that they replied, ‘Contented be we.’ ‘Then here’s,’ quoth the beggar, ‘for pretty Bessee!’

XXIX

With that an angel he cast on the ground, And dropped in angels full three thousand pound; And oftentimes it was provèd most plain, For the gentlemen’s one the beggar dropt twain:

XXX

So that the place, wherein they did sit, With gold it was coverèd every whit. The gentlemen then, having dropt all their store, Said, ‘Now, beggar, hold, for we have no more,

XXXI

‘Thou hast fulfilled thy promise aright.’-- ‘Then marry,’ quoth he, ‘my girl to this Knight; And here,’ added he, ‘I will now throw you down A hundred pounds more to buy her a gown.’

XXXII

The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seen, Admirèd the beggar of Bednall-green: And all those, that were her suitors before, Their flesh for very anger they tore.

XXXIII

Thus was fair Bessy match’d to the Knight, And then made a lady in others’ despite: A fairer lady there never was seen Than the blind beggar’s daughter of Bednall-green.

XXXIV

But of their sumptuous marriage and feast, What brave lords and knights thither were prest, The second fitt shall set forth to your sight With marvellous pleasure and wished delight.