Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 11

[This interesting traditional ballad was first published by Mr.

Thomas Lyle in his Ancient Ballads and Songs, London, 1827. 'We have not as yet,' says Mr. Lyle, 'been able to trace out the historical incident upon which this ballad appears to have been founded; yet those curious in such matters may consult, if they list, Proceedings and Debates in the House of Commons, for 1621 and 1662, where they will find that some stormy debating in these several years had been agitated in parliament regarding the corn laws, which bear pretty close upon the leading features of the ballad.' Does not the ballad, however, belong to a much earlier period? The description of the combat, the presence of heralds, the wearing of armour, &c., justify the conjecture. For De la Ware, ought we not to read De la Mare? and is not Sir Thomas De la Mare the hero? the De la Mare who in the reign of Edward III., A.D.

1377, was Speaker of the House of Commons. All historians are agreed in representing him as a person using 'great freedom of speach,' and which, indeed, he carried to such an extent as to endanger his personal liberty. As bearing somewhat upon the subject of the ballad, it may he observed that De la Mare was a great advocate of popular rights, and particularly protested against the inhabitants of England being subject to 'purveyance,'

a.s.serting that 'if the royal revenue was faithfully administered, there could be no necessity for laying burdens on the people.' In the subsequent reign of Richard II, De In Mare was a prominent character, and though history is silent on the subject, it is not improbable that such a man might, even in the royal presence, have defended the rights of the poor, and spoken in extenuation of the agrarian insurrectionary movements which were then so prevalent and so alarming. On the hypothesis of De la Mare being the hero, there are other incidents in the tale which cannot be reconciled with history, such as the t.i.tle given to De la Mare, who certainly was never enn.o.bled; nor can we ascertain that he was ever mixed up in any duel; nor does it appear clear who can be meant by the 'Welsh Lord, the brave Duke of Devons.h.i.+re,' that dukedom not having been created till 1694 and no n.o.bleman having derived any t.i.tle whatever from Devons.h.i.+re previously to 1618, when Baron Cavendish, of Hardwick, was created the first EARL of Devons.h.i.+re. We may therefore presume that for 'Devons.h.i.+re' ought to be inserted the name of some other county or place. Strict historical accuracy is, however, hardly to be expected in any ballad, particularly in one which, like the present, has evidently been corrupted in floating down the stream of time. There is only one quarrel recorded at the supposed period of our tale as having taken place betwixt two n.o.blemen, and which resulted in a hostile meeting, viz., that wherein the belligerent parties were the Duke of Hereford (who might by a 'ballad-monger' be deemed a WELSH lord) and the Duke of Norfolk. This was in the reign of Richard II. No fight, however, took place, owing to the interference of the king. Our minstrel author may have had rather confused historical ideas, and so mixed up certain pa.s.sages in De la Mare's history with this squabble; and we are strongly inclined to suspect that such is the case, and that it will be found the real clue to the story. Vide Hume's History of England, chap. XVII. A.D. 1398. Lyle acknowledges that he has taken some liberties with the oral version, but does not state what they were, beyond that they consisted merely in 'smoothing down.'

Would that he had left it 'in the ROUGH!' The last verse has every appearance of being apocryphal; it looks like one of those benedictory verses with which minstrels were, and still are, in the habit of concluding their songs. Lyle says the tune 'is pleasing, and peculiar to the ballad.' A homely version, presenting only trivial variations from that of Mr. Lyle, is still printed and sung.]

In the Parliament House, a great rout has been there, Betwixt our good King and the Lord Delaware: Says Lord Delaware to his Majesty full soon, 'Will it please you, my liege, to grant me a boon?'

'What's your boon,' says the King, 'now let me understand?'

'It's, give me all the poor men we've starving in this land; And without delay, I'll hie me to Lincolns.h.i.+re, To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, and hang them all there.

'For with hempen cord it's better to stop each poor man's breath, Than with famine you should see your subjects starve to death.'

Up starts a Dutch Lord, who to Delaware did say, 'Thou deserves to be stabbed!' then he turned himself away;

'Thou deserves to be stabbed, and the dogs have thine ears, For insulting our King in this Parliament of peers.'

Up sprang a Welsh Lord, the brave Duke of Devons.h.i.+re, 'In young Delaware's defence, I'll fight this Dutch Lord, my sire;

'For he is in the right, and I'll make it so appear: Him I dare to single combat, for insulting Delaware.'

A stage was soon erected, and to combat they went, For to kill, or to be killed, it was either's full intent.

But the very first flourish, when the heralds gave command, The sword of brave Devons.h.i.+re bent backward on his hand; In suspense he paused awhile, scanned his foe before he strake, Then against the King's armour, his bent sword he brake.

Then he sprang from the stage, to a soldier in the ring, Saying, 'Lend your sword, that to an end this tragedy we bring: Though he's fighting me in armour, while I am fighting bare, Even more than this I'd venture for young Lord Delaware.'

Leaping back on the stage, sword to buckler now resounds, Till he left the Dutch Lord a bleeding in his wounds: This seeing, cries the King to his guards without delay, 'Call Devons.h.i.+re down,--take the dead man away!'

'No,' says brave Devons.h.i.+re, 'I've fought him as a man, Since he's dead, I will keep the trophies I have won; For he fought me in your armour, while I fought him bare, And the same you must win back, my liege, if ever you them wear.'

G.o.d bless the Church of England, may it prosper on each hand, And also every poor man now starving in this land; And while I pray success may crown our King upon his throne, I'll wish that every poor man may long enjoy his own.

Ballad: LORD BATEMAN.

[This is a ludicrously corrupt abridgment of the ballad of Lord Beichan, a copy of which will be found inserted amongst the Early Ballads, An. Ed. p. 144. The following grotesque version was published several years ago by Tilt, London, and also, according to the t.i.tle-page, by Mustapha Syried, Constantinople! under the t.i.tle of The loving Ballad of Lord Bateman. It is, however, the only ancient form in which the ballad has existed in print, and is one of the publications mentioned in Thackeray's Catalogue, see ante, p. 20. The air printed in Tilt's edition is the one to which the ballad is sung in the South of England, but it is totally different to the Northern tune, which has never been published.]

Lord Bateman he was a n.o.ble lord, A n.o.ble lord of high degree; He s.h.i.+pped himself on board a s.h.i.+p, Some foreign country he would go see.

He sailed east, and he sailed west, Until he came to proud Turkey; Where he was taken, and put to prison, Until his life was almost weary.

And in this prison there grew a tree, It grew so stout, and grew so strong; Where he was chained by the middle, Until his life was almost gone.

This Turk he had one only daughter, The fairest creature my eyes did see; She stole the keys of her father's prison, And swore Lord Bateman she would set free.

'Have you got houses? have you got lands?

Or does Northumberland belong to thee?

What would you give to the fair young lady That out of prison would set you free?'

'I have got houses, I have got lands, And half Northumberland belongs to me I'll give it all to the fair young lady That out of prison would set me free.'

O! then she took him to her father's hall, And gave to him the best of wine; And every health she drank unto him, 'I wish, Lord Bateman, that you were mine!

'Now in seven years I'll make a vow, And seven years I'll keep it strong, If you'll wed with no other woman, I will wed with no other man.'

O! then she took him to her father's harbour, And gave to him a s.h.i.+p of fame; 'Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman, I'm afraid I ne'er shall see you again.'

Now seven long years are gone and past, And fourteen days, well known to thee; She packed up all her gay clothing, And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.

But when she came to Lord Bateman's castle, So boldly she rang the bell; 'Who's there? who's there?' cried the proud porter, 'Who's there? unto me come tell.'

'O! is this Lord Bateman's castle?

Or is his Lords.h.i.+p here within?'

'O, yes! O, yes!' cried the young porter, 'He's just now taken his new bride in.'

'O! tell him to send me a slice of bread, And a bottle of the best wine; And not forgetting the fair young lady Who did release him when close confine.'

Away, away went this proud young porter, Away, away, and away went he, Until he came to Lord Bateman's chamber, Down on his bended knees fell he.

'What news, what news, my proud young porter?

What news hast thou brought unto me?'

'There is the fairest of all young creatures That ever my two eyes did see!

'She has got rings on every finger, And round one of them she has got three, And as much gay clothing round her middle As would buy all Northumberlea.

'She bids you send her a slice of bread, And a bottle of the best wine; And not forgetting the fair young lady Who did release you when close confine.'

Lord Bateman he then in a pa.s.sion flew, And broke his sword in splinters three; Saying, 'I will give all my father's riches If Sophia has crossed the sea.'

Then up spoke the young bride's mother, Who never was heard to speak so free, 'You'll not forget my only daughter, If Sophia has crossed the sea.'

'I own I made a bride of your daughter, She's neither the better nor worse for me; She came to me with her horse and saddle, She may go back in her coach and three.'

Lord Bateman prepared another marriage, And sang, with heart so full of glee, I'll range no more in foreign countries, Now since Sophia has crossed the sea.'

Ballad: THE GOLDEN GLOVE; OR, THE SQUIRE OF TAMWORTH.

[This is a very popular ballad, and sung in every part of England.

It is traditionally reported to be founded on an incident which occurred in the reign of Elizabeth. It has been published in the broadside form from the commencement of the eighteenth century, but is no doubt much older. It does not appear to have been previously inserted in any collection.]

A wealthy young squire of Tamworth, we hear, He courted a n.o.bleman's daughter so fair; And for to marry her it was his intent, All friends and relations gave their consent.