With mickle joy and triumphing

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

And sealed it with seale and ring;

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"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,

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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,

Full many a fadom in the sea;

If he were alive as he is dead,

I must have left England many a day; And

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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,

A noble a day now thou shalt have,

Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne.

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And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,
And lands and livings shalt have store;
Howard shall be erle Surrye hight,

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.
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,

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180

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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!
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.

5

Whan he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred wordes' to 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.

Lye still, my darling, sleipe a while,
And when thou wakest, sweitly smile:
But smile not, as thy father did,
To cozen maids: nay God forbid !
But yett I feire, thou wilt gae neire

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15

Thy fatheris hart, and face to beire.

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Balow, &c.

I cannae chuse, but ever will

Be luving to thy father still:
Whair-eir he gae, whair-eir he ryde,
My luve with him doth still abyde:
In weil or wae, whair-eir he gae,
Mine hart can neire depart him frae.

Balow, &c.

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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 cheap and common; and therefore suggests now a coarse and vulgar idea.

But doe not, doe not, prettie mine,

To faynings fals thine hart incline;
Be loyal to thy luver trew,
And nevir change hir for a new:
If gude or faire, of hir have care,
For womens banning's wonderous sair.

Balow, &c.

Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane,
Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine;
My babe and I'll together live,

He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve:
My babe and I right saft will ly,

And quite forgeit man's cruelty.

Balow, &c.

Fareweil, fareweil, thou falsest youth
That evir kist a womans mouth!
I wish all maides be warnd by mee
Nevir to trust man's curtesy ;
For if we doe bot chance to bow,
They'le use us then they care not how.

Balow, my babe, ly stil, and sleipe,
It grives me sair to see thee weipe.

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VOL. II.