"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, 125 Which made their hearts waxe sore adread: 130 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, 135 And off he smote Sir Andrewes head, "I must have left England many a daye, If thou wert alive as thou art dead." 140 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." Thus from the warres lord Howard came, 145 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; 150 "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 : Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warr, Before in England was but one." King Henryes grace with royall cheere Welcomed the noble Howard home, And where, said he, is this rover stout, That I myselfe may give the doome? "The rover, he is safe, my leige, 155 160 Full many a fadom in the sea; If he were alive as he is dead, I must have left England many a day; These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt, To Henry Hunt, the king then sayd, In lieu of what was from thee tane, A noble a day now thou shalt have, Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne. 170 And Horseley thou shalt be a knight, As Howards erst have beene before. Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old, I will maintaine thee and thy sonne : For the good service they have done. But when they see his deadlye face, And eyes soe hollow in his head, 175 180 185 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 have twelvepence a day, Till they come to my brother kings high land. 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 Bothwell, and his desertion 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 age, who 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, 5 Whan he began to court my luve, Balow, &c. Lye still, my darling, sleipe a while, 10 15 Thy fatheris hart, and face to beire. 20 Balow, &c. I cannae chuse, but ever will Be luving to thy father still: Balow, &c. 25 1 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. 189, v. 10.) Sugar at present is cheap and common; and therefore suggests now a coarse and vulgar idea. |