any

My lords,' quoth the bride, 'my father so base Is loth with his presence these states to disgrace.'. 'The praise of a woman in question to bring, Before her own face is a flattering thing; But we think thy father's baseness,' quoth they, Might by thy beauty be clean put away.' They no sooner this pleasant word spoke, But in comes the beggar in a silken cloak, A velvet cap and a feather had he, And now a musician, forsooth, he would be. And being led in from catching of harm, He had a dainty lute under his arm, Said, 'Please you to hear music of me, A song I will sing you of pretty Bessee.' With that his lute he twangèd straightway, And thereon began most sweetly to play, And after a lesson was played two or three, He strained out this song most delicately:'A beggar's daughter did dwell on a green, Who for her beauty may well be a queen, A blithe bonny lass, and dainty was she, And many one called her pretty Bessee. 'Her father he had no goods nor no lands, But begged for a penny all day with his hands, And yet for her marriage gave thousands three, Yet still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee. 'And here if any one do her disdain, Her father is ready with might and with main To prove she is come of noble degree, Therefore let none flout at my pretty Bessee.' With that the lords and the company round With a hearty laughter were ready to swound; At last said the lords, 'Full well we may see, The bride and the bridegroom's beholden to thee.' With that the fair bride all blushing did rise, With crystal water all in her bright eyes,

Pardon my father, brave nobles,' quoth she, 'That through blind affection thus doats upon me.' 'If this be thy father,' the nobles did say, 'Well may he be proud of this happy day, Yet by his countenance well may we see, His birth with his fortune could never agree; And therefore, blind beggar, we pray thee bewray, And look to us then the truth thou dost say, Thy birth and thy parentage what it may be, E'en for the love thou bearest pretty Bessee.' 'Then give me leave, ye gentles each one, A song more to sing and then I'll begone, And if that I do not win good report, Then do not give me one groat for my sport:'When first our king his fame did advance, And sought his title in delicate France, In many places great perils passed he; But then was not born my pretty Bessee. 'And at those wars went over to fight, Many a brave duke, a lord, and a knight,

And with them young Monford of courage so free;
But then was not born my pretty Bessee.

'And there did young Monford with a blow on the face Lose both his eyes in a very short space;

His life had been gone away with his sight,
Had not a young woman gone forth in the night.

'Among the said men, her fancy did move,
To search and to seek for her own true love,
Who seeing young Monford there gasping to die,
She saved his life through her charity.

'And then all our victuals in beggar's attire,
At the hands of good people we then did require ;
At last into England, as now it is seen,
We came, and remained in Bednall Green.
'And thus we have lived in Fortune's despite,
Though poor, yet contented with humble delight,

And in my old years, a comfort to me,
God sent me a daughter called pretty Bessee.
And thus, ye nobles, my song I do end,
Hoping by the same no man to offend;
Full forty long winters thus I have been,
A silly blind beggar of Bednall Green.'
Now when the company every one,

Did hear the strange tale he told in his song,
They were amazed, as well they might be,
Both at the blind beggar and pretty Bessee.
With that the fair bride they all did embrace,
Saying, 'You are come of an honourable race,
Thy father likewise is of high degree,

And thou art right worthy a lady to be.'
Thus was the feast ended with joy and delight,
A happy bridegroom was made the young knight,
Who lived in great joy and felicity,
With his fair lady dear pretty Bessee.

THE BOLD PEDLAR AND ROBIN HOOD.

[THIS ballad is of considerable antiquity, and no doubt much older than some of those inserted in the common Garlands. It appears to have escaped the notice of Ritson, Percy, and other collectors of Robin Hood ballads. The tune is given in Popular Music. An aged woman in Bermondsey, Surrey, from whose oral recitation the present version was taken down, said that she had often heard her grandmother sing it, and that it was never in print; but we have since met with several common stall copies. The subject is the same as that of the old ballad called Robin Hood newly revived; or, the Meeting and Fighting with his Cousin Scarlett.]

HERE chanced to be a pedlar bold,

THE

A pedlar bold he chanced to be;
He rolled his pack all on his back,
And he came tripping o'er the lee.
Down, a down, a down, a down,
Down, a down, a down.

By chance he met two troublesome blades, Two troublesome blades they chanced to be; The one of them was bold Robin Hood,

And the other was Little John, so free. 'Oh! pedlar, pedlar, what is in thy pack, Come speedilie and tell to me?'

'I've several suits of the gay green silks, And silken bowstrings two or three.'

'If you have several suits of the gay green silk, And silken bowstrings two or three,

Then it's by my body,' cries bittle John,

'One half your pack shall belong to me.' 'Oh! nay, oh! nay,' says the pedlar bold, 'Oh! nay, oh! nay, that never can be, For there's never a man from fair Nottingham Can take one half my pack from me.' Then the pedlar he pulled off his pack, And put it a little below his knee, Saying, 'If you do move me one perch from this, My pack and all shall gang with thee.'

Then Little John he drew his sword;
The pedlar by his pack did stand;
They fought until they both did sweat,
Till he cried,' Pedlar, pray hold your hand!'
Then Robin Hood he was standing by,
And he did laugh most heartilie,

Saying, 'I could find a man of a smaller scale,
Could thrash the pedlar, and also thee.'
'Go, you try, master,' says Little John,
'Go, you try, master, most speedilie,

Or by my body,' says Little John,

'I am sure this night you will not know me.' Then Robin Hood he drew his sword, And the pedlar by his pack did stand,

They fought till the blood in streams did flow, Till he cried, Pedlar, pray hold your hand!

'Pedlar, pedlar! what is thy name?

Come speedilie and tell to me.'

'My name! my name, I ne'er will tell,

Till both your names you have told to me.' 'The one of us is bold Robin Hood,

And the other Little John, so free.'

'Now,' says the pedlar, 'it lays to my good will,
Whether my name I chuse to tell to thee.
'I am Gamble Gold* of the gay green woods,
And travelled far beyond the sea;

For killing a man in my father's land,
From my country I was forced to flee.'

'If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods, And travelled far beyond the sea,

You are my mother's own sister's son;
What nearer cousins then can we be?'

They sheathed their swords with friendly words,
So merrily they did agree;

They went to a tavern and there they dined,
And bottles cracked most merrilie.

THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT.

[THIS is the common English stall copy of a ballad of which there are a variety of versions, for an account of which, and of the presumed origin of the story, the reader is referred to the notes on the Water o' Wearie's Well, in the Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, published by the Percy Society. By the term 'outlandish' is signified an inhabitant of that portion of the border which was formerly known by the name of the Debateable Land,' a district which, though claimed by both England and Scotland, could not be said to belong to either country. The people on each side of the border applied the term 'outlandish' to the Debateable residents. The tune to The Outlandish Knight has never been printed; it is peculiar to the ballad, and, from its popularity, is well known.]

*The stall copies read' Gamble bold.'