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Thus from the warres lord Howard came,
And backe he fayled ore the maine,
With mickle joy and triumphing

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

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"Such a noble prize have I brought to your grace,

As never did fubject to a king.

"Sir Andrewes shipp I bring with mee;

A braver shipp was never none :

Nowe hath your grace two fhipps of warre,

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Before in England was but one."

King Henryes grace with royall cheere
Welcomed the noble Howard home,
And where, faid he, is this rover ftout:

That I myselfe may give the doome?

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"The rover, he is fafe, my leige,

Full many a fadom in the sea;

If he were alive, as he is dead,

I muft 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 fonne."

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Howard shall be earl Surrye hight,

As Howards erft have beene before.

Nowe, Peter Simon, thou art old,

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

For the good service they have done.
Then in came the queene with ladyes fair
To fee Sir Andrewe Barton knight:

They weend that hee were brought on fhore,
And thought to have feen a gallant fight.

But when they fee his dead'ye face,

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,

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Which fought foe well with heart and hand, 195

His men fhall have twelvepence a day,

Till they come to my brother kings high land.

VOL. II.

N

XIII. LADY

XIII.

LADY BOTHWELL'S LAMENT,

A SCOTTISH SONG,

- refers, I prefume, to the affecting ftory of lady Jean Gordon, fifter to the earl of Huntley. This lady had been married but fix months to James Hepburn earl of Bothwell, when that nobleman conceived an ambitious defign of marrying his fovereign Mary queen of Scots: to accomplish which, among other violent meajures he fued out a divorce from his lawful bride, the lady Jean. This fuit was driven forward with juch 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 moft trivial and fcandalous pretences. See Robertfon. History is filent as to this lady having a child by him, but that might be accounted for by juppofing it dyed.

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After all, perhaps this story is misapplied here, and indeed is hardly confiftent with the laft ftanza. In the Editor's folio MS. whence this fong is printed, it is fimply intitled BALOWE: and in the copy given by Allan Ramsey in his Tea-table Mifcellany, (which contains many modern additions) it is called, Lady ANNE Bothwell's Lament.

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B

ALOW, my babe, ly stil and fleipe!

It grieves me fair to fee thee weipe:
If thouft be filent, Ife be glad,

Thy maining maks my heart ful fad.

Balow,

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

Balow, my babe, ly ftil and fleipe,
It greives me fair to see weipe.

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

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Ly ftil, my darling, fleipe a while,

And whan thou wakeft, fweitly fmile:
But fmile nat, as thy father did,
To cozen maids: nay God forbid!

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Bot yett I feire, thou wilt gae
Thy fatheris hart, and face to beire.

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Balow, &c.

I cannae chufe, but ever wil
Be luving to thy father ftil:
Whair-eir he gaes, whair-eir he ryde,
My luve with him maun ftil abyde:
In weil or wae, whair-eir he gae,
Mine hart can neire depart him frae,

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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,

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For womens banning's wonderous fair.

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Balow, &c.

Bairne, fin thy cruel father is gane,
Thy winfome smiles maun eife my paine;
My babe and I'll together live,

He'll comfort me whan cares doe greive:

My babe and I right faft will ly,

And quite forgeit man's cruelty.

Balow, &c.

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Fareweil, fareweil, thou falfeft youth,
That evir kift a womans mouth!

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I wish all maides be warnd by mee
Nevir to truft mans curtesy;

For if we doe bot chance to bow,
They'le ufe us than they care nae how.

Balow, my babe, ly ftil, and fleipe,
It greives me fair to fee thee weipe.

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XIV. THE

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