The Book of Brave Old Ballads Part 9

Forthwith he struck his neck in two, And, when he had so done, From prison threescore knights and four Delivered every one.

FOOTNOTES:

[78] Then.

[79] Tearing.

THE FROLICKSOME DUKE; OR, THE TINKER'S GOOD FORTUNE.

Now as fame does report, a young duke keeps a court, One that pleases his fancy with frolicksome sport: But amongst all the rest, here is one I protest, Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest: A poor tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground, As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound.

The duke said to his men, William, Richard, and Ben, Take him home to my palace, we'll sport with him then.

O'er a horse he was laid, and with care soon convey'd To the palace, altho' he was poorly array'd: Then they stript off his clothes, both his s.h.i.+rt, shoes, and hose, And they put him to bed for to take his repose.

Having pull'd off his s.h.i.+rt, which was all over dirt, They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt: On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown, They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his crown.

In the morning when day, then admiring he lay, For to see the rich chamber both gaudy and gay.

Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state, Till at last knights and squires, they on him did wait; And the chamberlain bare,[80] then did likewise declare, He desir'd to know what apparel he'd wear: The poor tinker amaz'd, on the gentleman gaz'd, And admired[81] how he to this honour was rais'd.

Tho' he seem'd something mute, yet he chose a rich suit, Which he straitways put on without longer dispute; With a star on his side, which the tinker oft ey'd, And it seem'd for to swell him no little with pride; For he said to himself, Where is Joan my sweet wife?

Sure she never did see me so fine in her life.

From a convenient place, the right duke his good grace Did observe his behaviour in every case.

To a garden of state, on the tinker they wait, Trumpet sounding before him: thought he, this is great: Where an hour or two, pleasant walks he did view, With commanders and squires in scarlet and blue.

A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his guests, He was plac'd at the table above all the rest, In a rich chair or bed, lin'd with fine crimson red, With a rich golden canopy over his head: As he sat at his meat, the music play'd sweet, With the choicest of singing his joys to complete.

While the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine, Rich canary with sherry and tent superfine.

Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl, Till at last he began for to tumble and roll From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore, Being seven times drunker than ever before.

Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him amain, And restore him his old leather garments again: Twas a point next the worst, yet perform it they must, And they carried him strait, where they found him at first; Then he slept all the night, as indeed well he might; But when he did waken, his joys took their flight.

For his glory to him so pleasant did seem, That he thought it to be but a mere golden dream; Till at length he was brought to the duke, where he sought For a pardon, as fearing he had set him at nought; But his highness he said, Thou'rt a jolly bold blade, Such a frolic before I think never was play'd.

Then his highness bespoke him a new suit and cloak, Which he gave for the sake of this frolicksome joke; Nay, and five hundred pound, with ten acres of ground, Thou shalt never, said he, range the countries around, Crying "old bra.s.s to mend," for I'll be thy good friend, Nay, and Joan thy sweet wife shall my d.u.c.h.ess attend.

Then the tinker reply'd, What! must Joan my sweet bride Be a lady in chariots of pleasure to ride?

Must we have gold and land ev'ry day at command?

Then I shall be a squire I well understand: Well I thank your good grace, and your love I embrace, I was never before in so happy a case.

FOOTNOTES:

[80] Bare-headed.

[81] Wondered.

THE MORE MODERN BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE.

G.o.d prosper long our n.o.ble king, Our lives and safeties all; A woful hunting once there did In Chevy Chase befall;

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 G.o.d did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer days to take;

The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase To kill and bear away.

These 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 that, Did to the woods resort

With fifteen hundred bow-men 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, Ere day-light did appear;

And long before high noon they had An hundred fat bucks slain; Then having din'd, the drovers went To rouse the deer again.

The bow-men mustered on the hills, Well able to endure; Their backsides all, with special care, That day were guarded sure.

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

But if 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 Teviotdale, Fast by the river Tweed: O 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 his milk-white steed, Most like a baron bold, Rode foremost of his 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 n.o.ble Percy he; Who said, We list not to declare, Nor show whose men we be: