Sidor som bilder

Saies, You shal ryde yourselfe, brother,

Ile beare you companye;

Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,
And I feare lest soe shold wee.

Thus the renisht' them to ryde

Of twoe good renisht 2 steeds,



And when the came to king Adlands halle,
Of redd gold shone their weeds.3

And when the came to kyng Adlands hall
Before the goodlye gate,

There they found good kyng Adlànd
Rearing himselfe theratt.

Now Christ thee save, good kyng Adland;
Now Christ you save and see.

Sayd, You be welcome, king Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee.



You have a daughter, said Adler younge,
Men call her bright and sheene,

My brother wold marrye her to his wiffe,
Of Englande to be queene.

Yesterday was att my deere daughtèr
Syr Bremor the kyng of Spayne;

And then she nicked him of naye,


And I doubt sheele do you the same.

The kyng of Spayne is a foule paynim,7
And 'leeveth on Mahound;


And pitye it were that fayre ladyè
Shold marrye a heathen hound.

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is, f. MS. V. 46. the king his

2 harnessed.


6 she will.


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But grant to me, sayes kyng Estmere,
For my love I you praye;
That I may see your daughter deere
Before I goe hence awaye.

Although itt is seven yeers and more
Since my daughter was in halle,
She shall come once downe for your
To glad my guestès alle.

Downe then came that mayden fayre,
With ladyes laced in pall,1


And halfe a hundred of bold knightes,
To bring her from bowre to hall;
And as many gentle squiers,

To tend upon them all.

The talents of golde were on her head sette,
Hanged low downe to her knee;

And everye ring on her small finger,
Shone of the chrystall free.

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Saies, God you save, my deere madàm;
Saies, God you save and see.

Said, You be welcome, kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.

And if you love me, as you saye,


Soe well and hartilèe,

All that ever you are comen about

Soone sped now itt shal bee.

Then bespake her father deare:

My daughter, I saye naye;

Remember well the kyng of Spayne,

What he sayd yesterdaye.

He wold pull downe my halles and castles,

And reave me of my lyfe

I cannot blame him if he doe,

If I reave him of his wyfe.

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Your castles and your towres, father,
Are stronglye built aboute;
And therefore of the king of Spaine
Wee neede not stande in doubt.

Plight me your troth, nowe, kyng Estmère,
By heaven and your righte hand,
That you will marrye me to your wyfe,
And make me queene of your land.

Then kyng Estmere he plight his troth
By heaven and his righte hand,
That he wolde marrye her to his wyfe,
And make her queene of his land.

And he tooke leave of that ladye fayre,

To goe to his owne countree,

To fetche him dukes and lordes and knightes,

That marryed the might bee.

They had not ridden scant a myle,

A myle forthe of the towne,


But in did come the kyng of Spayne,
With kempès' many one.



But in did come the kyng of Spayne,

With manye a bold baròne,

Tone day to marrye kyng Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carrye her home.

Shee sent one after kyng Estmère

In all the spede might bee,

That he must either turne againe and fighte,
Or goe home and loose his ladyè.

One whyle then the page he went,
Another while he ranne;

Ver. 89. of the King his sonne of Spaine, f. MS. [1 soldiers or knights.]


Till he had oretaken king Estmere,
I wis, he never blanne.1

Tydings, tydings, kyng Estmere!
What tydinges nowe, my boye?
O tydinges I can tell to you,
That will you sore annoye.

You had not ridden scant a mile,

A mile out of the towne,

But in did come the kyng of Spayne

With kempès many a one :



But in did come the kyng of Spayne

With manye a bold barone,

Tone daye to marrye king Adlands daughter,
Tother daye to carry her home.

My ladye fayre she greetes you well,

And ever-more well by mee:

You must either turne againe and fighte,
goe home and loose your ladyè.


Saies, Reade me, reade me, deere brother,
My reade shall ryde* at thee,

Whether it is better to turne and fighte,
Or goe home and loose my ladye.

Now hearken to me, sayes Adler yonge,
And your reade must rise † at me,
I quicklye will devise a waye
To sette thy ladye free.

My mother was a westerne woman,
And learned in gramaryè,‡




*sic MS. It should probably be ryse, i.e. my counsel shall

arise from thee.

t sic MS.

See ver. 140.

See at the end of this ballad, note ***.

[1 stopped.]

And when I learned at the schole,

Something shee taught itt mee.

There growes an hearbe within this field,
And iff it were but knowne,

His color, which is whyte and redd,


It will make blacke and browne :


His color, which is browne and blacke,
Itt will make redd and whyte;

That sworde is not in all Englande,
Upon his coate will byte.

And you shal be a harper, brother,

Out of the north countrye;

And Ile be your boy, soe faine of fighte,'

And beare your harpe by your knee.

And you shal be the best harpèr,
That ever tooke harpe in hand;

And I wil be the best singer,

That ever sung in this lande.



Itt shal be written in our forheads
All and in grammaryè,

That we towe are the boldest men,
That are in all Christentyè.


And thus they renisht them to ryde,
On tow good renish steedes:

And when they came to king Adlands hall,
Of redd gold shone their weedes.

And whan the came to kyng Adlands hall,

Untill the fayre hall yate,'


There they found a proud portèr
Rearing himselfe thereatt.

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