66 Fight on, my men, Sir Andrew fayes, And then lle rife and fight againe. They never heard his whistle blow, 125 Which made their hearts waxe fore adread: 130 Then Horfeley fayd, Aboard, my lord, For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead. They boarded then his noble fhipp, They boarded it with might and maine; Eighteen fcore Scots alive they found, 135 The reft were either maimed or flaine. Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand, And off he fn ote Sir Andrewes head; "I must have left England many a daye, If thou wert alive as thou art dead." 140 He caufed his body to be caft Over the hatch bord into the fea, And about his middle three hundred crownes: "Wherever thou land this will bury thee." Thus Thus from the warres lord Howard came, Into Thames mouth he came againe. And fealed it with feale and ring; 145 150 "Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace, As never did fubject to a king, "Sir Andrewes fhipp I bring with mee; A braver fhipp was never none: Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr, 155 Before in England was but one." King Henryes grace with royall cheere And where, faid he, is this rover stout, 160 "The rover, he is fafe, my leige, Full many a fadom in the fea; If he were alive as he is dead, I must have left England many a day: And your grace may thank four men i'the fhip 165 For the victory wee have wonne, These are William Horfcley, Henry Hudt, And Peter Simon, and his fonne." Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, I will maintaine thee and thy sonne: And the men shall have five hundred markes For the good service they have done. Then in came the queene with ladyes fair They weend that hee were brought on fhore, But when they fee his deadlye face, And eyes foe hollow in his head, 180 185 I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes, Yett for the man full part hee playd, Which fought foe well with heart and hand, 190 His men fhall have twelvepence a day, Till they come to my brother kings high land. Ver. 175, 6... Erle of Nottingham, And foe was never, &c. MS. XIII. LADY XIII. LADY ANNE BOTHWELL'S LAMENT. A SCOTTISH SONG. The fubject of this pathetic Ballad the Editor once thought might pofibly relate to the Earl of Bothwell, and his defertion of his wife Lady Jean Gordon, to make room for his marriage with the Queen of Scots: But this opinion he now believes to be groundless indeed earl Bothwell's sage, who was upwards of 60 at the time of that marriage, renders it unlikely that he should be the objet of fo warm a paffion as this elegy fuppofes. He has been fince informed, that it entirely refers to a private ftory: A young lady of the name of BOTHWELL, or rather BOSWELL, having been, together with her child, deferted by her husband or lover, compofed thefe affecting lines herself; which here are given from a copy in the Eitor's folio MS. corrected by another in Allan Ramfay's Mifcellany. B ALOW, my babe, lye still and fleipe! It grieves me fair to see thee weipe: If thouft be filent, Ife be glad, Balow, my babe, ly stil and fleipe, 5 Whan he began to court my luve, 10 Lye ftill, my darling, fleipe a while, I cannae chufe, but ever will 20 Balow, &c. Whair-eir he gae, whair-eir he ryde, 25 In weil or wae, whair-eir he gae, Balow, &c. When fugar was first imported into Europe, it was a very great dainty; and therefore the epithet fugred is used by all our old writers metaphorically to express extreme and delicate fweetness. (See above, No. XI. v. 10.) Sugar at prefent is cheap and common; and therefore fuggefts now a coarse and vulgar idea. Bot |