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“ Fight on, my men,” Sir Andrewe sais,

“Weale, howsoever this geere will sway;
Itt is my lord admirall. of Englànd,

Is come to seeke mee on the sea.”
Simon had a sonne, who shott right well,

That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare;
In att his decke he gave a shott,

Killed threescore of his men of warre.
Then Henrye Hunt, with rigour hott,

Came bravely on the other side;
Soone he drove downe his fore-mast tree,

And killed fourscore men beside.
6. Nowe, out alas !" Sir Andrewe cryed,

“What may a man now thinke or say ?
Yonder merchant theefe, that pierceth mee,

He was my prisoner yesterday.
“Come hither to me, thou Gordon good,

That aye wast ready att my call;
I will give thee three hundred markes,

If thou wilt let my beames downe fall."
Lord Howard hee then calld in haste,

“ Horseley see thou be true in stead;
For thou shalt at the maine-mast hang,

If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread.”
Then Gordon swarved the main-mast tree,

He swarved it with might and maine ;
But Horseley with a bearing arrowe,

Stroke the Gordon through the braine ;
And he fell unto the haches again,

And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed:
Then word went through Sir Andrews men,

How that the Gordon hee was dead.
" Come hither to mee, James Hambilton,

Thou art my only sisters sonne;
If thou wilt let my beames downe fall,

Six hundred nobles thou hast wonne." V. 67, 84, pounds. MS. V. 75, bearinge, sc. that carries well, &c. But see Gloss.

80 With that he swarved the maine-mast tree,

He swarved it with nimble art; But Horseley with a broad arròwe

Pierced the Hambilton thorough the heart.

And downe he fell upon the deck,

That with his blood did streame amaine ; Then every Scott cryed, “Well-away!

Alas a comelye youth is slaine !" All woe begone was Sir Andrew then,

With griefe and rage his heart did swell; “ Go fetch me forth my armour of proofe,

For I will to the topcastle mysell.

100

“Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;

That gilded is with gold soe cleare;
God be with my brother John of Barton!

Against the Portingalls hee it ware.
And when he had on this armour of proofe,

He was a gallant sight to see;
Ah! nere didst thou meet with living wight,

My deere brother, could cope with thee.”

105

“Come hither, Horseley," sayes my lord,

“And looke your shaft that itt goe right; Shoot a good shoote in time of need,

And for it thou shalt be made a knight.” “ Ile shoot my best,” quoth Horseley then,

“ Your honour shall see, with might and maine ; But if I were hanged at your maine-mast,

I have now left but arrowes twaine.

111

115

Sir Andrew he did swarve the tree,

With right good will he swarved then, Upon his breast did Horseley hitt,

But the arrow bounded back agen. Then Horseley spyed a privye place,

With a perfect eye, in a secrette part; Under the spole of his right arme

He smote Sir Andrew to the heart.

· 120

“ Fight on, my men,” Sir Andrew sayes,

“A little Ime hurt, but yett not slaine ; Ile but lye downe and bleede a while,

And then Ile rise and fight againe. Fight on, my men,” Sir Andrew sayes,

“And never flinche before the foe; And stand fast by St. Andrewes crosse,

Untill you hear my whistle blowe.”

125

130

They never heard his whistle blow,

Which made their hearts waxe sore adread : Then Horseley sayd, “ Aboard, my lord,

For well I wott Sir Andrew's dead.” They boarded then his noble shipp,

They boarded it with might and maine ; Eighteen score Scots alive they found,

The rest were either maimed or slaine.

135

140

Lord Howard tooke a sword in hand,

And off he smote Sir Andrewes head; “I must have left England many a dayo,

If thou wert alive as thou art dead.”
He caused his body to be cast

Over the hatchbord into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crownes :

“Wherever thou land this will bury thee.”

145

Thus from the warres Lord Howard came,

And backe he sayled ore the maine; With mickle joy and triumphing

Into Thames mouth he came againe. Lord Howard then a letter wrote,

And sealed it with seale and ring; “Such a noble prize have I brought to Your Grace

As never did subject to a king.

150

“Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee,

A braver shipp was never none;
Nowe hath Your Grace two shipps of warr,

Before in England was but one."

155 King Henryes grace with royall cheere

Welcomed the noble Howard home; " And where," said he “is this rover stout, T'hat I myselfe may give the doome ?"

160 “The rover, he is safe, my leige,

Full many a fadom in the sea; 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 ship 165

For the victory wee have wonne;
These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,

And Peter Simon, and his sonne."
“To Henry Hunt,” the king then sayd,
“ In lieu of what was from thee tane,

170 A noble a day now thou shalt have,

Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne. And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,

And lands and livings shalt have store; Howard shall be Erle Surrye hight,

175 As Howards erst have beene before. “ 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."

180 Then in came the queene with ladyes fair

To see Sir Andrewe Barton, knight;
They weend that hee were brought on shore,

And thought to have seen a gallant sight.
But when they see his deadlye face,

And eyes soe hollow in his head, “I wold give," quoth the king, “ a thousand markes,

This man were alive as hee is dead. Yett for the manfull part hee playd,

Which fought soe well with heart and hand, 190 His men shall bave twelvepence a day,

Till they come to my brother kings high land.”

185

V. 175, 6, ... Erle of Nottingham, And soe was never, &c. MS.

XIII.
Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament.

A SCOTTISH SONG. The subject of this pathetic ballad the Editor once thought might possibly relate to the Earl of Both well, and his desertion of his wife, Lady Jean Gordon, to make room for his marriage with the Queen of Scots: but this opinion le now believes to be groundless ; indeed Earl Bothwell's age, which was upwards of 60 at the time of that marriage, renders it unlikely that he should be the object of so warm a passion as this elegy supposes. He has been since informed, that it entirely refers to a private story: A young lady of the name of Bothwell, or rather Boswell, having been, together with her child, deserted by her husband or lover, composed these affecting lines herself, which here are given from a copy in the Editor's folio MS., corrected by another in Allan Ramsay's Miscellany.

Balow, my babe, lye still and sleipe !
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe :
If thoust be silent, Ise be glad,
Thy maining maks my heart ful sad.
Balow, my boy, thy mothers joy,
Thy father breides me great annoy.

Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,

It grieves me sair to see thee weepe.
Whan he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred wordesto muve, .
His faynings fals and flattering cheire
To me that time did not appeire :
But now I see, most cruell hee
Cares neither for my babe nor mee.

Balow, &c.

" It is now an established fact that the unhappy Lady Anne was daughter to Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney. The faithless " father " was the lady's cousin, Alexander Erskine, son to the Earl of Mar. While in the service of the Covenanters, be came to his death in Douglass Castle, 1640. See Child's English and Scottish Ballads, IV., 123.- Editor.

? When sugar was first imported into Europe, it was a very great dainty; and therefore the epithet sugred is used by all our old writers metaphorically, to express extreme and delicate sweetness.-See above, p. 372, v. 10. Sugar at present is cheap and common; and therefore suggests now a coarse and vulgar idea.

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