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Thus from the warres lord Howard came, 145

And backe he sayled ore the maine,
With mickle joy and triumphing

Into Thames mouth he came againe.
Lord Howard then a letter wrote,
And sealed it with feale and ring;

150 « Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace,

As never did subject to a king.

155

• Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee ;

A braver shipp was never none :
Nowe hath your grace two shipps of warre,

Before in England was but one.”
King Henryes grace with royall cheere

Welcomed the noble Howard home, And where, said he, is this rover stout:

That I myselfe may give the doome?

166

“ The rover, he is fafe, my leige,

Full many a fadom in the sea; If he were alive, as he is dead,

I must ha' left England many a day :
And your grace may thank four men i' the ship 165

For the victory wee have wonne,
These are William Horseley, Henry Hunt,

And Peter Simon, and his sonne."

TO

170

To Henry Hunt, the king then fayd,

In lieu of what was from thee tane,
A noble a day thou shalt have,

With Sir Andrewes jewels and his chayne."
And Horseley thou shalt be a knight,

And lands and livings shalt have store;
Howard shall be earl Surrye hight,

As Howards erst have beene before.

180

.

Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,

I will maintaine thee and thy sonne :
And the men thall have five hundred markes

For the good service they have done.
Then in came the queene with ladyes fair

To see Sir Andrewe Barton knight:
They weend that hee were brought on shore,

And thought to have seen a gallant fight.

185

But when they see his dead ye face,

199
And
eyes

foe hollowe in his head,
I wold give, quoth the king, a thousand markes,

This man were alive as he is dead :
Yet for the manfull part he playd,

Which fought foe well with heart and hand, 195
His men shall have twelvepence a day,

Till they come to my brother kings high land.

VOL. II.

N

XIII. LADY

XIII.

LADY BOTHWELL's LAMENT,

A SCOTTI ISH Song,

refers, I presume, to the affecting story of lady Jean Gordon, fifter to the earl of Huntley. This lady had been married tut fix months to James Hepburn earl of Bothwell, when that nobleman conceived an ambitious design of marry, ing his sovereign Miry queen of Scots : to accompliji wbicb

, among other violent meajures he sued out a divorce from bis lawful bride, the lady Jean. This fuit was driven forward with such indecent precipitation, that the process was begun and ended in four days, (in May 1567.) and his wife

, who was a woman of merit, driven from his bed, upon the most trivial and scandalous pretences. See Robertson. History is filent as to this lady having a child by him, but that might be accounted for by supposing it dyed.

Afier all, perhaps this story is misapplied here, and indeed is hardly consistent with the laft ftanza. In the Editor's felia MS. whence this song is printed, it is fimply intitled BALOWE: and in the copy given by Allan Ramsey in his Tea-table Mif cellany, (which contains many modern additions) it is called,

Lady ANNE Bothwell's Lament.

B

ALOW, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!

It grieves me fair to see thee weipe :
If thoust be filent, Ise be glad,
Thy maining maks my heart ful fad.

Balow,

5

Balow, my boy, thy mithers joy,
Thy father breides me great annoy.

Balow, my babe, ly stil and Neipe,
It greives me sair to see weipe.

1

Whan he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred wordes to muve,
His faynings fals, and flattering cheire
To me that time did nat appeire:
But now I see, most cruell hee
Cares neither for my babe, nor mee.

Balow, &c.

Ly stil, my darling, sleipe a while,
And whan thou wakest, sweitly smile:
But smile nat, as thy father did,
To cozen maids : nay God forbid !
Bot yett I feire, thou wilt gae neire
Thy fatheris hart, and face to beire.

Balow, &c.

20.

23

I cannae chuse, but ever wil
Be luving to thy father stil:
Whair-eir he gaes, whair-eir he ryde,
My luve with him maun stil abyde:
In weil or wae, whair-eir he

gae, Mine hart can neire depart him frae,

Balow, &c.
N 2

Bot

30

Bot doe nat, doe nat, prettie mine,
To faynings fals thine hart incline;
Be loyal to thy luver trew,
And nevir change hir for a new;
If gude or faire, of hir hae care,
For womens banning's wonderous fair.

Balow, &c.

35

Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane,
Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine;
My babe and I'll together live,
He'll comfort me whan cares doe greive :
My babe and I right saft will ly,
And quite forgeit man's cruelty.

Balow, &c.

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Fareweil, fareweil, thou falfest youth,
That evir kift a wornans mouth !
I wish all maides be warnd by mee
Nevir to trust mans curtesy ;
For if we doe bot chance to bow,
They'le use us than they care nae how.

Balow, my babe, ly stil, and sleipe,
It greives me fair to see thee weipe.

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XIV. THE

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