Welcome, sir Knight, quoth he, with your gay ladye, And so is the squire of courage soe free, The King and his courtiers laugh at this heartilye, A milkmaid's courtesye at every word Where the King royally, in princelye majestye, Quoth Sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle, Why art thou angry? quoth our King merrilye; I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartilye. You feed us with twattling dishes so small; Zounds, a blacke-pudding is better than all. Aye, marry, quoth our King, that were a daintye thing, With that Dick straite arose, and pluckt one from his hose, The King made a proffer to snatch it away: 'Tis meat for your master, good sir, you must say. Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent ; Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent Here with the ladyes such sport they did make, Many thankes for their paines did the King give them, Quoth he, Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red head: She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed; Then Sir John Cockle the King call'd unto him, And of merry Sherwood made him o'er-seer; And once a quarter let's here have your view; SIR GUY AND SIR EVERARD: A FRAGMENTARY BALLAD. Then forth Sir Guy came from the bush With his black armour dight, And with his sword, uplift on high, He thus bespoke the knight. "Sir Knight, Sir Knight, now wee be mett And he that wins shall wed the maid Before the morning light." So on they sett with many a stroke Till stout Sir Everard gave Sir Guy A woefull overthrow. Sir Guy then lept to his feete, All reckless of the pain, Quoth he, "May heav'n be now my speed, He graspt his sword with mayne and might, "Heaven forefend, Sir Knight," he cried, Sir Everard once lift up his head; Once heaving up his breath. "Fly! Ay!" he said; "farewell, farewell," Then closed his eyne in death. Isabel's sash did gird his loyns, In this gear was he found, With trembling voice she weeping said, Our loves shall not in this world end, His death shall not us part. Mine can alone my true knight show Ye saints record my plighted vows, The mournful scene now past, the crowd The hapless maid then drooping down, Full many a day and many a yeare Sir Guy was vexed sore With ulcers foul and loathsome lice Till to a reverend father come NEWARK AND THE SIEGE THEREOF. All her hardships ended and brought to a happy conclusion by the valiant Prince Rupert, Count Palatine of the Rhine, Duke of Bavaria and Cumberland, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, &c. These rhymes are said to have been "written by Sir William Davenant, or some one about the Marquis of Newcastle, he being a gentleman of grandeur, generosity and loyalty." The writer of Ladye Shakerley, to whom we are indebted for these lines, says "we came possessed of these rhymes by a fellow hawking of tracts and verses." Old Newark's walls lay compassed by three armies in the field, And Meldrum, Hubbard, Willoughby, vow'd to God they'd make them yield; But the loyal hearts within swore they never would give in, For as long as they had life they would keep it for the King. They were three to one against them; they surrounded all the town, And he'd sworn upon the Cross to keep it for the King. So the Herald answered proudly, in the name of all the rest, "We know what the mercies of the wicked are, at best; If you storm the town we'll blow it up; we never will give in; And our gates will keep you long enough-false rebels to your King." "We've guns enough, we've men enough, our hearts are strong and true; We will burn the city down, but we'll never yield to you; We can starve and we can die, but we cannot live to fling "So tell your rebel leaders we are loyal to the last, Oh, the Roundheads snuffled Psalms, and swore below their breath, For many weeks and many months they bravely held their own, And the women brought the food to the men that kept the wall, Then one gallant fellow said, "We can do, and we can dare, They drest the brave young Cavalier, ready to do and dare, He looked into her deep-set eyes, he gave her one long kiss, And the rebels knew the garrison and death were face to face, But they knew how small his force, and they deemed their scouts did lie For they never dreamt that he dared the battle to begin With a handful of wild troopers, for God and for the King. But Essex sent nine hundred horse to watch his little band, And Ashburnham had wrote the Prince "he hoped they'd all be-;" So cheerily at midnight blew Prince Rupert's bugle-horn, Then he looked upon his troopers, and his troopers looked on him, They gained the Beacon Hill, and the town beneath them lay, And the river by the castle still murmering did run, All around, and on the foe, Rupert's eagle eye did fall; They are seen upon the hill top, all dark against the sky, They are round him, all those Roundheads, they surround his little band, Rose loud and high that dauntless cry, "For God and for the King?" The garrison have sallied out, the foes fall back a space, For Rupert presses onward: neither give nor ask for grace; His battle-word is clearly heard, "For God and for the King!" They have won the bridge, those troopers! They will keep it to the death, And the foes are drinking hard in the crimsoned stream beneath; And down the grey hill side Rupert's Foot is marching in, And echo high the battle-cry, "For God and for the King!" They have sheathed their bloody blades at his word, those troopers wild, For he swore he'd shoot the first that harmed a woman or a child; And the foe have begged for quarter, they are ready to give in, As he entered the old gates one cry of triumph rose To bless and welcome him who had saved them from their foes; The women kiss his charger, and the little children sing, "Prince Rupert's brought us bread to eat from God and from the King." |