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Song. Gentle River, gentle River. With a thousand Moors surrounded, slated from the Spunish. Percy. Brave Saavedra stands at bay: h the English are remarkable for the Wearied out, but never daunted, er and variety of their ancient ballads, and / Cold at length the warrior lay. perhaps a greater fondness for these old Near him fighting, great Alonzo rhapsodies of their ancestors than most nations, they are not the only people who
Stout resists the Paynim bands ; distinguished themselves by compositions Fro
ne Froin his slaughter'd steed disınounted, i kind. The Spaniards have great multi-l Firm intrench'd behind him stands. of them, many of which are of the high- Furious press the hostile squadron, rit. They call them in their language, Furious he repels their rage: nces. Most of them relate to their con-, with the Moors, and display a spirit of
Loss of blood at length enfeebles: try peculiar to that romantic people. The
Thel Who can war with thousands wage ! llowing are specimens.
Where yon rock the plain o'ershadows, E river, gentle river,
Close bencath its foot retird, thy streams are stain'd with gore; Fainting sunk the bleeding hero, brave and noble captain
And without a groan expir'd. along thy willow'd shore. le thy limpid waters, side thy sands so bright
1$ 114. Alcanzor and Zaida, a Moorish Taler Chiefs and Christian Warriors
imitated from the Spanish. PERCY. Tin fierce and mortal fight. id dukes, and noble princes,
COFTLY blow the evening breezes,
Softly fall the dews of night; y fatal banks were slain : oks that gave to slaughter
Yonder walks the Moor Alcanzor, e pride and flow'r of Spain.
Shunning ev'ry glare of light. e hero, brave Alonzo,
In yon palace lives fair Zaida, f wounds and glory died;
Whoin he loves with flame so pure : e fearless Urdiales
Loveliest she of Moorish ladies, victim by his side.
He a young and noble Moor.
Waiting for th' appointed minute, ere yonder Don Saavedra their squadrons slow retires ;
Oft he paces to and fro: eville, his native city,
Stopping now, now moving forwards, Seville his worth admires.
Sometimes quick, and sometimes slow. hind a renegado
Hope and fear alternate tease him, y shouts, with taunting cry :
Oft he sigbs with heartfelt care. ee, yield thee, Don Saavedra !
Sce, fond youth, to yonder window hou from the battle fly?
Softly steps the tim'rous fair. now thee, haughty Christian,
Lovely seems the moon's fair lustre I livid beneath thy rool;
To the lost benighted swain,
When, all silvery bright she rises, in the lists of glory
| Cilding mountain, grove, and plain, hee win the prize of proof. now thy aged parents,
Lovely seems the sun's full glory hy blooming bride I know;
To the fainting seaman's eyes,
When, some horrid storm dispersing, ars I was thy captire,
O'er the wave his radianca flies: years of pain and woe.
But a thousand times more lovely prophet grant my wishes, ity chief, thou shalt be mine :
To her longing lover's sight,
Steals half-seen the beauteous maiden alt drink that cup of sorrow
Thro' the glimmerings of the night. I drank when I was thine. in turns the warrior,
Tip-toe stands the anxious lover, e sends an angry glare :
Whispering forth a gentle sigh : came the Moorish javelin,
| Alla keep thee, lovely lady! whizzing thro'the air.
'Tell me, am I doom'd to die? hero full of fury
Is it true the dreadful story, leep and mortal wound:
Which thy damsel tells my page, ink the renegado
That, seduc'd by sordid riches, ad lifeless on the ground.
Thou wilt sell thy bloom to age ? • Alla is the Mahometan name of God
An old lord from Antiquera
Tis in rain, in rain, Alcanzst, Thy stern father brings along;
Spies surround me, bars secure But canst thon, inconstant Zaida,
Scarce I steal this last dear mement, Thus consent my love to wrong?
While my damsel keeps the door. Yt'tis troe, now plainly tell me,
Hark, I hear my father storming! Nor thus trifle with my woes;
Hark, I hear my mother chide! Hide not then from me the secret,
I must go; farewel for ever! Which the world so clearly knows.
Gracious Alla be thy guide! Deeply sigh'd the conscious maiden,
While the pearly tears descend; Ah! my lord, too true the story;
$ 115. King Ederard IV. and the Terr Here our tender loves must end.
Tasnutk. Our fond friendship is discover'd,
I Tx summer time when leares grow geWell are known our mutual vows;
And blossoms bedecke the tree, All my friends are full of fury;
King Eduard wolde a hunting ryde, Storms of passion shake the house.
Somine pastime for to see. Threats, reproaches, fears, surround me; With hawke and hounde he made him be My stern father breaks my heart;
With horne, and eke with bowe; Alla knows bow dear it costs me,
To Drayton Basset he took his waye, Gen'rous youth, from thee to part.
With all his lordes a towe. Ancient wounds of hostile fury
And he had ridden ore dale and down Long have rent our house and thine ; Br eight o'clocke in the day, Why then did thy shining merit
When he was ware of a bold tanac, Vin this tender heart of mine?
Come ryding along the ware. Well thou know'st how dear I lov'd thee, A fayre russet coat the tanner hade Spite of all their hateful pride,
Fast bulloned under his chin; Though I fear'd my haughty father
And under him a good cow-bide, Ne'er would let me be thy bride.
And a mare of four shilling. Well thou know'st what cruel chidings Nowe stand you still, my good lords. Oft I've from my mother borne,
Under the greene wood sprare; What I've suffer'd here to meet thee
And I will wende to yonder fellow, Suill at eve and early morn.
To weet what he will saye. I no longer may resist them;
God speede, God speede thez, said cAll to force my hand combine;
Thou art welcome, sir, sarde he And to-morrow to thy rival
• The readvest wave to Drayton Bas* This weak frame I'must resign.
I praye thee to shewe to mee." Yet think not thy faithful Zaida
" To Drayton Basset mouldst thou st. Can survive so great a wrong;
Fro the place where thou dost sem Well my breaking heart assures me
The next parer of gallowes thou nos That my woes will not be long.
Turn in upon thy right hand." Farewel then, my dear Alcanzor!
That is an unready wave, said the 24 Farewel too my life with thee!
Thou doest but jest, I sce: Take this scarf, a parting token;
Now shewe me out the nearest *rs When thou wear'st it think on me.
And I pray thee wend with met. Soon, lor'd youth, some worthier maiden Awave with a vengeance! quoth the Shall reward thy gen'rous truth;
I hold thee out of thy witt: Sometimes tell her how thr Zaida
| All daye have I ridden on Brocke s Died for thee in prime of youth.
And I am fasting yett. To him, all amaz'd, confounded,
“ Go with me downe to Drayton & Thus she did her woes impart ;
Vo daynties we will spare: Deep he sich d; then cried, O Laida, All dave shalt thou eate and drink Do not, do not break my hcarı!
And I will paye thy fare." (anst thou think I thus will lose thee; Gramercye for nothing, the tanners Canst thou hold my love so small :
Thou pavest no fare of mine: Xo! a thousand times l'il perisli!
I trow I've more nobles in my purse, My curst rival too shall fall.
Than thou hast pence in thiuc. Canst thou, wilt thou, rield thus to them? God give thee joy of them, said the $. O break forth, and fly to me!
And send them well to priele. This fond heart shall bleed to save thee, The tanner wolde faine have been a* 'These fond arms shall shelter clice. | For he weende he had beene a the. art thou, he sayde, thou fine fellowe? I will not have it, sayde the kynge, thee I'm in greate feare;
II sweare, so mote I thee; se cloathes thou wearest upon thy backe Thy foule cowe-bide I would not beare, ght beseeme a lord to weare.
If thou woldst give it mee. ir stole them, quoth our king,
The tanner he took his good cowe-hide, Il you, sir, by the roode.
That of the cowe was hilt; in thou playest as many an unthrift doth, And threwe it upon the king's saddelle, d standeih in midds of rhy goode." That was soe fayrely gilte. tydings heare you, savd the kynge, “ Now help me up, thou fine fellowe, you ryde far and neare?
'Tis time that I were gone; ar no tydings, sir, by the masse, When I come home to Gyllan my wise, that cowe-hides are deare."
Spell say I'm a gentilmou." le-hides! cowe-hides! what things are The kinge he took him by the legge; arvell what they bee?"
(those? The tanner a f*** let fall. , art thou a foole? the tanner reply'd; Now marrye, good fellowe, said the kinge, rry one under mee.
Thy courtesye is but small. craftsman art thou? said the king;
| When the tanner he was in the king's saddelle, ay thee tell me trowe.
And bis foote in the stirrup was: n a barker,* sir, by trade;
He marvelled greatlye in his minde, w tell me what art thou?"
Whether it were golde or brass. poore courtier, sir, quoth he,
But when his steede saw the cows-taile wagge, tam forth of service worne;
And eke the black cowe-horue, zinc I wolde thy prentise bee,
He stamped, and stared, and awaye he ranne, r cunninge for to learne.
As the devill had him borne. e, heaven forfend, the tanner replyde, The tanner he pull'd, the tanner he sweat, it thou my prentise were: Twinn, And held by the pummil fast; woldst spend more good than I shold At length the tanner came tumbling downe: Cortye shilling a yere.
His necke he had well-nye brast. ne thinge wold I, sayd our king,
Take thy horse again with a vengeance, he sayd, hou wilt not seeme strange;
With mee he shall not byde. ghe my horse be better than thy mare,
"My horse would have borne thee well enoughe, with thee I faine wold change.
1. But he knewe not of thy cowe-hide. by if with me thou faine wilt change, Yet if againe thou faine roldst change, change full well mave wee,
As change full well may wee, e faith of my bodye, ihou proude fellowe, By the faith of thy bodye, thou jolly tanner, rill have some boot of thee."
I will have some boote of thec." were against reason, sayd the king, What boote wilt thou have, the tanner reply'd, weare, so mote I thee:
Nowe tell me in this stounde? orse is better than thy mare,
"Noe pence, nor half-pence, sir, by my faye, d that thou well mayst see.
But I will bave twentye pounde." a, sir, but Brocke is gentle and mild, "Here's twenty groates out of my purse ; d softly she will fare:
| And twentye I have of thine: horse is unrule and wild, I wiss; and I have one more, which we will spend e skipping here and thcare."
Together at the wine." | boote wilt thou have? our king replied; The kinge set a bugle horne to his mouthe, w tell me in this stounde.
And blewe bothe loude and shrille; e pence, nor half-pence, by my faye, And soone came lords, and soone came knights, ta noble in gold so rounde."
Fast ryding over the hille. re's twenty groates of white moneyè, Nowe, out alas! the tanner he cryde, h thou wilt have it of mee."
That ever I sawe this dayel uld have sworne now, quoth the tanner, Thou art a strong thefe, von come thy fellowes Du hadst not had one penniè.
Will beare my cowe-hide away. nce we two have made a change, They are no thieves, the king replyde, hange we must abide ;
I sweare, so mole I thee: ugh thou hast gotten Brocke my mare, But they are the lords of the north countrèy, ou gettest uot my cowe-hide.
1 Here come to hunt with mee.
And soone before our king they came, In weil or wae, whair-eir be gae,
Mine hart can neir depart him frae. Then might the tanner have beene awaye,
Balox, & He had lever than twentye pounde.
But doe not, doe not, prettie mine, A coller, a coller, here sayd the kinge, To faynings fals thine hart incline: A coller, he loud did crye:
Be loyal to thy lurer trew,
If gude or faire, if hir hare care,
Balow, &c. After a coller comes a halter,
Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane, And I shall be hanged to-morrowe.
Thy winsome smiles maun eise my pa.ca « Away with thy feare, thou jolly tanner,
My babe and I'll together live, For the sport thou hast shewn to mee,
He'll comfort me when cares doe griere I wote noe halier thou shalt weare,
My babe and I right saft will ly, But thou shalt have a knight's fee.
And quite forget man's cruelty.
Balow, & For Plumpton parke I will give thee, With tenements faire beside:
Fareweil, fareweil, thou falsest youth, Tis worth three hundred markes by the yeare, 1
That ever kist a woman's mouth! To maintain thy good cowe-hide."
I wish all maides be warnd by me
Nevir to trust man's curtesy; Gramercye, my liege, the tanner replyde,
For if we doe bot chance to bow, For the favour thou hast mne showne;
They'lle use us than they care not bez If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth,
Balow, my babe, ls stil and say Neates leather shall clout thy shoen.
It grieves me sair to see thee
f 116. Lady Ann Bothwell's Lament. A § 117. Corydon's dolefulk: Scottish Song.
The burthen of the song, Dixo, Dox: The subject of this pathetic ballad is, A lady of
present appropriated to burlesque se'" quality of the name of BOTHWELL, or rather Therefore may excite only ludicreases Boswell, having been, together with her
modern reader, but in the time of child, deserted by her husband or lover, coni usually accompanied the most $61 posed these affecting lines herself.
mournful strains. Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe !
M Y Phillida, adieu love! It grieves me sair to see thee weipe;
For evermore farewel ! If thoust be silent, Ise be glad,
Ay me! I've lost my true love, Thy maining maks my heart ful sad.
"And thus I ring her knell, Balow, my boy, thy mithers joy,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding during Thy father breides me great annoy.
· My Phillida is dead!
I'll stick a branch of willow
At my fair Phillis' head.
For my fair Phillida And with his sugred words to muve,
Our bridal bed was made:
But 'stead of silkes so gav,
She in her shroud is laid.
Her corpse shall be attended
Balow, &c. | By maides in faire array, Ly stil, my darlinge, sleipe a while,
Till th' obsequies are ended,
And she is wrapt in clay.
Her herse it shall be carried
By youths that do excel;
And when that she is buried, Thy fatheris hart and face to beire.
Ithus will ring her knell. I canriae chuse, but ever will
A garland shall be framed Be luving to thy father stil:
By art and nature's skill, Whair-cir he gae, whair-eir he ryde, Jof sundry-colour'd flowers, My love with himn maun still abyde: | In token of good-will:*
* It is a custom in many parts of England, to carry a fine garland before the corpse of a * who dies unmarried.
With an old falooner, huntsman, and a kennel it I will bestow;
[grounds, hiefly blacke and yellowe
That never hawked nor hunted but in his own th her to grave shall go. Ding, &c. Who, like a wise man, kept himself within his ck her tomb with flowers,
[good pounds : e rarest ever seen,
And when he dyed gave every child a thousand with my tears, as showers,
Like an old courtier, &c. keepe them fresh and green. Ding, &c. But to his eldest son his house and land he asa ad of fairest colours,
[full mind, forth with curious art,
Charging him in his will to keep the old bountimage shall be painted
To be good to his old tenants, and to his neighiny distressed heart. Ding, &c. bours be kind: [was inclin'd: thereon shall be graven
But in the ensuing dittv you shall hear how he repitaph so faire,
Like a voung courtier of the king's, re lies the loveliest maiden
And the king's young courtier. That e'er gave shepherd care." Ding, &c. Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come ple will. I mnourne;
to his land,
[command, icke shall be all my weede,
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his je! I am forlorne,
And takes up a thousand pound upon his faw Phillida is dead. Ding, &c. ther's land,
[go nor stand!
And gets drunk in a tavern, till he can neither | 118. The old and young Courtier.
Like a young courtier, &c. ubject of this excellent old song is a compa- (With a new-fangled lady, that is dainty, nice, a between the manners of the old gentry, as subsisting in the times of Elizabeth, and the who never knew what belonged to good house
and spare, lern refinements affected by their sons, in
keeping, or care; reigns of her successors.
Who buys gaudy-colourd fans to play with old song made by an aged old patel
women's hair; of an old worshipful gentleman who had and seven or eight different dressings of other a great estate,
I Like a young courtier, &c. kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, 1. An old porier to relieve the poorat his gate; With a new-fashion
With a new-fashion'd hall, built where the old Like an old courtier of the queen's,
[no good, And the queen's old courtier.
Hung round with new pictures that do the poor
With a fine marble chimney, wherein burns 1 an old lady whose anger one word as
neither coal por wood, swages; every quarter paid their old servants their and a new smooth shovelboard, whereon no
victuals e'er stood; wages,
(footmen, nor pages, never knew what belonged to coachmen,
Like a young courtier, &c. ept twenty old fellows with blue coats With a new study stult full oi pamphlets and and badges ;
(prays, Like an old courtier, &c.
| And a new chaplain, that swears faster than he an old study fillid full of learned old books,"
With a new butter-bitch that opens once in an old reverend chaplain, you might know
four or five days, [shaws and toys;
* And a new French cook to devise fine hickhim by his looks, an old buttery-hatch worn quite off the
Like a young courtier, &c. in old kitchen that maintain'd half a With a new fashion, when Christmas is draw. dozen old cooks :
[must be gone, Like an old courtier, &c.
On a new journey to London straight we all an old hall, hung about with pikes, guns,
And leave none io keep house, but our new
porter John, [many shrewde blows,
(with a stone : and bows, old swords, and bucklers, that had borne
Vho relieves the poor with a thump on the back an old frize coat, lo cover his worship's
Like a young courtier, &c. trunk hose,
[nose, With a new gentleman usher, whose carriage 1 cup of old sherry to comfort his copper is complete, (carry up the incal, Like an old courtier, &c.
With a new coachman, footmen, and pages to a good old fashion, when Christmasse With a waiting gentlewoman, whose dressing was come,
(not cal; Il in all his old neighbours with bagpipe Who, when her lady has dind, lets the servants good cheer enough to furnish every old Like a young courtier, &c.
(man dumb : With new titles of honour bought with his faold liquor able to make a cat speak, and ther's old gold,
fare sold ; Like an old courtier, &c.
For which sundry of his ancestors old manors his alludes to the painted efhgies of alabaster apciently erected upon tombs and monuments.