The Book of Brave Old Ballads Part 14

[104] Writing.

[105] Together.

[106] Unless.

[107] Counsel.

[108] Lingered.

[109] Hole in the window.

[110] Worthless fellow.

[111] Wild.

[112] Disgraced.

SIR ANDREW BARTON.

PART THE FIRST.

When Flora with her fragrant flowers Bedecked the earth so trim and gay, And Neptune with his dainty showers Came to present the month of May, King Henry rode to take the air, Over the river Thames past he; When eighty merchants of London came, And down they knelt upon their knee.

O ye are welcome, rich merchants; Good sailors, welcome unto me.

They swore by the rood, they were sailors good, But rich merchants they could not be: To France nor Flanders dare we pa.s.s, Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare;[113]

And all for a rover that lies on the seas, Who robs us of our merchant ware.

King Henry frowned, and turned him round, And swore by the Lord, that was mickle of might, I thought he had not been in the world, Durst have wrought England such unright.

The merchants sighed, and said, alas!

And thus they did their answer frame, He is a proud Scot, that robs on the seas, And Sir Andrew Barton is his name.

The king looked over his left shoulder, And an angry look then looked he: Have I never a lord in all my realm, Will fetch yon traitor unto me?

Yea, that dare I, lord Howard says; Yea, that dare I with heart and hand; If it please your grace to give me leave, Myself will be the only man.

Thou art but young, the king replied; Yon Scot hath numbered many a year.

Trust me, my liege, I'll make him quail, Or before my prince I will never appear.

Then bowmen and gunners thou shalt have, And choose them over my realm so free; Besides good mariners, and s.h.i.+p-boys, To guide the great s.h.i.+p on the sea.

The first man that lord Howard chose Was the ablest gunner in all the realm, Though he was threescore years and ten; Good Peter Simon was his name.

Peter, says he, I must to the sea, To bring home a traitor live or dead; Before all others I have chosen thee, Of a hundred gunners to be the head.

If you, my lord, have chosen me Of a hundred gunners to be the head, Then hang me up on your main-mast tree, If I miss my mark one s.h.i.+lling bread.[114]

My lord then chose a bowman rare, Whose active hands had gained fame; In Yorks.h.i.+re was this gentleman born, And William Horseley was his name.

Horseley, said he, I must with speed Go seek a traitor on the sea, And now of a hundred bowmen brave To be the head I have chosen thee.

If you, quoth he, have chosen me Of a hundred bowmen to be the head, On your main-mast I'll hanged be, If I miss, twelvescore,[115] one penny bread.

With pikes and guns, and bowmen bold, This n.o.ble Howard is gone to the sea; With a valiant heart and a pleasant cheer, Out at Thames mouth sailed he.

And days he scant had sailed three Upon the voyage he took in hand, But there he met with a n.o.ble s.h.i.+p, And stoutly made it stay and stand.

Thou must tell me, lord Howard said, Now who thou art and what's thy name, And show me where thy dwelling is, And whither bound, and whence thou came.

My name is Henry Hunt, quoth he With a heavy heart, and a careful mind; I and my s.h.i.+p do both belong To the Newcastle that stands upon Tyne.

Hast thou not heard, now, Henry Hunt, As thou hast sailed by day and by night, Of a Scottish rover on the seas; Men call him sir Andrew Barton, knight?

Then ever he sighed, and said alas!

With a grieved mind, and well away!

But over-well I know that wight, I was his prisoner yesterday.

As I was sailing upon the sea, A Bordeaux voyage for to fare; To his hatchboard[116] he clasped me, And robbed me of all my merchant ware: And mickle debts, G.o.d wot, I owe, And every man will have his own, And I am now to London bound, Of our gracious king to beg a boon.

Thou shalt not need, lord Howard says; Let me but once that robber see, For every penny ta'en thee fro'

It shall be doubled s.h.i.+llings three.

Now G.o.d forefend, the merchant said, That you should seek so far amiss!

G.o.d keep you out of that traitor's hands!

Full little ye wot what a man he is.

He is bra.s.s within, and steel without, With beams on his topcastle strong; And eighteen pieces of ordinance He carries on each side along: And he hath a pinnace dearly dight,[117]

St. Andrew's cross that is his guide; His pinnace beareth ninescore men, And fifteen cannons on each side.

Were ye twenty s.h.i.+ps, and he but one, I swear by kirk, and bower, and hall, He would overcome them every one, If once his beams they do down fall.

This is cold comfort, says my lord, To welcome a stranger thus to the sea: Yet I'll bring him and his s.h.i.+p to sh.o.r.e, Or to Scotland he shall carry me.

Then a n.o.ble gunner you must have, And he must aim well with his ee, And sink his pinnace into the sea, Or else he ne'er o'ercome will be: And if you chance his s.h.i.+p to board, This counsel I must give withal, Let no man to his topcastle go To strive to let his beams down fall.

And seven pieces of ordinance, I pray your honour lend to me, On each side of my s.h.i.+p along, And I will lead you on the sea.

A gla.s.s I'll set, that may be seen, Whether you sail by day or night; And to-morrow, I swear, by nine of the clock You shall meet with Sir Andrew Barton, knight.

PART THE SECOND.

The merchant set my lord a gla.s.s So well apparent in his sight, And on the morrow, by nine of the clock, He showed him Sir Andrew Barton, knight.

His hatchboard it was gilt with gold, So dearly dight it dazzled the ee: Now by my faith, lord Howard says, This is a gallant sight to see.

Take in your ancients,[118] standards eke, So close that no man may them see; And put me forth a white willow wand, As merchants use to sail the sea.

But they stirred neither top, nor mast;[119]

Stoutly they pa.s.sed Sir Andrew by.

What English churls are yonder, he said, That can so little courtesy?

Now by the rood, three years and more, I have been admiral over the sea; And never an English nor Portingall[120]

Without my leave can pa.s.s this way.

Then called he forth his stout pinnace; Fetch back yon pedlars now to me: I swear by the ma.s.s, yon English churls Shall all hang at my main-mast tree.

With that the pinnace it shot off, Full well lord Howard might it ken; For it stroke down my lord's fore mast, And killed fourteen of his men.

Come hither, Simon, says my lord, Look that thy word be true, thou said; For at my main-mast thou shalt hang, If thou miss thy mark one s.h.i.+lling bread.