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And nowe the daye drewe on a pace,

When our good queene muft dye;
All woe-begone was that faire damselle,

When she found no helpe was nye.

115

All woe-begone was that faire damselle,

And the salt teares fell from her eye : When lo! as she rode by a rivers fide,

She met with a tinye boye.

120

A tinye boye she mette, God wot,

All clad in mantle of golde;
He seemed noe more in mans likenesse,

Then a child of four yeere olde.

125

Why grieve you, damfelle faire, he fayd,

And what doth cause you moane ? The damfell scant wolde deigne a looke

But faft she pricked on.

Yet turn againe, thou faïre damselle,

And greete thy queene from mee: When bale is att hyeft, boote is nyest,

Now helpe enoughe may bee.

130

Bid her remember what she dreamt

In her bedd, wheras fhee laye;
How when the grype and the grimly beast

Wolde have carried her crowne awaye,

135

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Even then there came the litle gray hawke,

And saved her from his clawes : Then bidd the queene be merry at hart,

For heaven will fende her cause.

140

Back then rode that faire damselle,

And her hart it lept for glee:
And when she told her gracious dame

A gladd woman was fhee.

145

But when the appointed day was come,

No helpe appeared nye:
Then woeful, woeful was her hart,

And the teares stood in her eye.

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And nowe a fyer was built of wood;

And a ftake was made of tree;
And now queene Elinore forth was led,

A forrowful fight to fee.

Three times the herault he waved his hand,

And three times fpake on hye:
Giff any good knight will fende this dame,

Come forth, or thee muft dye.

155

No knight stood forth, no knight there camo,

No helpe appeared nye:
And now the fyer was lighted up,

Queen Elinore the must dye.

160

And

And now the fyer was lighted up,

As hot as hot might bee;
When riding upon a little white steed,

The tinye boye they see.

« Away with that stake, away with those brands, 165

And loose our comelye queene:
I am come to fight with fir Aldingar,

And prove him a traitor keene."

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Forthe then stood fir Aldingar,

But when he saw the chylde,
He laughed, and scoffed, and turned his backe,

And weened he had been beguylde.

Now turne, now turne thee, Aldingar,

And eyther fighte or flee ;
I trust that I shall avenge the wronge,

Thoughe I am so small to see.

175

The boye pulld forth a well good sworde

So gilt it dazzled the ee;
The first stroke stricken at Aldingar

Smote off his leggs by the knee.

180

Stand

up,
stand
up,

thou false traitère,
And fight upon thy feete,
For and thou thrivest, as thou beginnest,

Of height wee shal be meete.

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185

A priest, a priest, fayes Aldingar,

While I am a man alive.
A priest, a priest, fayes Aldingar,

Me for to houzle and shrive.

I wolde have layne by our comlye queene

Bot shee wolde never consent;
Then I thought to betraye her unto our kinge

In a fyer to have her brent.

190

There came a lazar to the kings gates,

A lazar both blinde and lame : I tooke the lazar upon my backe,

And on her bedd him layné.

195

Then ranne I to our comlye king,

These tidings fore to tell.
But ever alacke ! sayes Aldingar,

Falfing never doth well.

209

Forgive, forgive me, queene, madame,

The short time I must live.
Nowe Chrift forgive thee, Aldingar,

As freely I forgive.

205

Here take thy queene, our king Harry'e,

And love her as thy life,
For never had a king in Chriftentye,

A truer and fairer wife,

Then

210

King Henrye ran to clafpe his queene,

And loosed her full sone :
Then turnd to look for the tinye boye;

--The boye was vanisht and gone.

But first he had touchd the lazar man,

And stroakt him with his hand :
The lazar under the gallowes tree

All whole and founde did stand.

215

The lazar under the gallowes tree

Was comelye, straight and tall;
King Henrye made him his head stewarde

To wayte withinn his hall.

220

X.

ON THOMAS LORD CROMWELL,

It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends, and insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the latter the giddy inconftant multitude. We have here a Spurn at fallen greatness from fome angry partisan of declining popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diano, and loss of their craft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of Cronwell's commitment to the tower Jun. 11. 1549, and that of his being beheaded July 28, following: A foort interval! but Henry's palion for Catharine Howard would

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