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“ Fight on, my men,” Sir Andrewe sais,
“Weale, howsoever this geere will sway;
Is come to seeke mee on the sea.”
That did Sir Andrewe mickle scare;
Killed threescore of his men of warre.
Came bravely on the other side;
And killed fourscore men beside.
“What may a man now thinke or say ?
He was my prisoner yesterday.
That aye wast ready att my call;
If thou wilt let my beames downe fall."
“ Horseley see thou be true in stead;
If thou misse twelvescore one penny bread.”
He swarved it with might and maine ;
Stroke the Gordon through the braine ;
And sore his deadlye wounde did bleed:
How that the Gordon hee was dead.
Thou art my only sisters sonne;
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.
“Goe fetch me forth my armour of proofe;
That gilded is with gold soe cleare;
Against the Portingalls hee it ware.
He was a gallant sight to see;
My deere brother, could cope with thee.”
“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.”
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.
“ 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.”
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.
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.”
Over the hatchbord into the sea,
“Wherever thou land this will bury thee.”
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.
“Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee,
A braver shipp was never none;
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.
For the victory wee have wonne;
And Peter Simon, and his sonne."
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 ;
180 Then in came the queene with ladyes fair
To see Sir Andrewe Barton, knight;
And thought to have seen a gallant sight.
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.”
V. 175, 6, ... Erle of Nottingham, And soe was never, &c. MS.
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 !
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weepe.
" 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.