The baron he to his castle fled,

To Barnard Castle then fled he;
The uttermost walls were eathe to win,
The earls have won them presently.

The uttermost walls were lime and brick,
But though they won them soon anon,
Long e'er they won the innermost walls,
For they were cut in rock and stone.
Then news unto leeve London came

In all the speed that ever might be,
And word is brought to our royal queen
Of the rising in the North Countrie.
Her grace she turned her round about,
And like a royal queen she swore,
'I will ordain them such a breakfast
As never was in the North before.'

She caused thirty thousand men be raised,
With horse and harness fair to see;
She caused thirty thousand men be raised
To take the earls i' th' North Countrie.

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120

125

130

Wi' them the false Earl Warwick went,
Th' Earl Sussex and the Lord Hunsden;

Until they to York Castle came,

135

I wis, they never stint ne blan.

Now spread thy ancient, Westmoreland,
Thy Dun Bull fain would we spy;
And thou, the Earl o' Northumberland,
Now raise thy Half-Moon up on high.

But the Dun Bull is fled and gone,
And the Half-Moon vanished away;

The earls, though they were brave and bold,
Against so many could not stay.

140

Thee, Norton, wi' thine eight good sons,
They doom'd to die, alas for ruth!
Thy reverend locks thee could not save,
Nor them their fair and blooming youth.

Wi' them full many a gallant wight
They cruelly bereaved of life;
And many a child made fatherless,
And widowed many a tender wife.

145

150

Traditional Ballad.

9. THE ARMADA.

(1588.)

MACAULAY was perhaps inspired to write this 'fragment' by the description, in the Agamemnon of Aeschylus, of the chain of beacons by which the news of the fall of Troy was flashed to Argos.

ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise;

I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient

days,

When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day 5 There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth

Bay;

Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's

isle,

At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile.

At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace; And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in

chase.

10

Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the

wall;

The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall; Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the coast, And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post.

With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff

comes;

15

Behind him march the halberdiers; before him sound the

drums;

His yeomen round the market-cross make clear an ample

space;

For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace.

And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells,

As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells.

20

Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies

down.

So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field,

Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle shield.

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay,

25

And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely

hunters lay.

Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, Sir Knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids:

Ho! gunners fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades:

Thou sun, shine on her joyously; ye breezes, waft her

wide;

Our glorious SEMPER EADEM, the banner of our pride. 30

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold;

The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold;

Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea,

Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Mil

ford Bay,

35

That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the

day;

For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame

spread,

High on St. Michael's Mount it shone: it shone on Beachy Head.

Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire,

Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling

points of fire.

40

The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's glittering

waves:

The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's sunless

caves:

O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, the fiery herald flew ;

He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers of

Beaulieu.

Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol town,

45

And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton down;

The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the

night,

And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of blood

red light.

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence broke,

And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke.

50

At once on all her stately gates arose the answering fires;

At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling

spires;

From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear;

And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer:

And from the furthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet,

55

And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down each roaring street;

And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din,

As fast from every village round the horse came spurring

in:

And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the warlike errand went,

And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant squires

of Kent.

60

Southward, from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those bright couriers forth;

High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the North;

And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded

still:

All night from tower to tower they sprang; they sprang from hill to hill:

Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky

dales,

65

Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of

Wales,