Reliques of Ancient English Poetry consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and other Pieces of our earlier Poets, (Chiefly of the Lyric kind.) Together with some few of later Date |
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 | Reliques of Ancient English Poetry |  |
XIX. MARY AMBREE.
In the year 1584, the Spaniards, under the command of Alexander Farnese prince of Parma, began to gain great advantages in Flanders and Brabant, by recovering many strong-holds and cities from the Hollanders, as Ghent, (called then by the English Gaunt,) Antwerp, Mechlin, &c. See Stow's Annals, p. 711. Some attempt made with the assistance of English volunteers to retrieve the former of those places probably gave occasion to this ballad. I can find no mention of our heroine in history, but the following rhymes rendered her famous among our poets. Ben Johnson often mentions her, and calls any remarkable virago by her name. See his Epicæne, first acted in 1609. Act 4. sc. 2. His Tale of a Tub, Act. I. sc. 4. And his masque intitled the Fortunate Isles, 1626, where he quotes the very words of the ballad,
(Who marched so free
To the siege of Gaunt,
And death could not daunt,
As the ballad doth vaunt)
Were a braver wight, &c.
She is also mentioned in Fletcher's Scornful Lady, Act 5. sub finem.
—“My large gentlewoman, my Mary Ambree, had I but seen into you, you should have had another bedfellow.”—
This ballad is printed from a black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, improved from the Editor's folio MS. The full title is, “The valorous acts performed at Gaunt by the brave bonnie lass Mary Ambree, who in revenge of her lovers death did play her part most gallantly. The tune is, The blind beggar, &c.”
Did march to the siege of the cittye of Gaunte,
They mustred their souldiers by two and by three,
And formost in battle was Mary Ambree.
Who was her true lover, her joy, and delight,
Because he was slaine most treacherouslìe,
Then vowd to revenge him Mary Ambree.
In buffe of the bravest, most seemelye to showe;
A faire shirt of male then slipped on shee;
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
A strong arminge sword shee girt by her side,
On her hand a goodly faire gauntlett had shee;
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
Bidding all such as wolde, bee of her band,
To wayt on her person came thousand and three:
Was not this a brave bonny lass, Mary Ambree?
Nowe followe your captaine, no longer a mayd;
Still formost in battel myselfe will I bee:
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
Soe well thou becomest this gallant array,
Thy harte and thy weapons soe well do agree,
Noe mayden was ever like Mary Ambree.
With ancyent and standard, with drum and with fife,
With brave clanging trumpetts, that sounded so free;
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
To come into danger of death, or of thrall,
This hand and this life I will venture so free:
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
Gainst three times theyr number by breake of the daye;
Seven howers in skirmish continued shee:
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
And her enemyes bodyes with bullets soe hott;
For one of her owne men a score killed shee:
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
Away all her pellets and powder had spent,
Straight with her keen weapon shee slasht him in three:
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambree?
At length she was forced to make a retyre;
Then her souldiers into a strong castle drew shee:
Was not this a brave bonny lasse, Mary Ambre?
As thinking close siege shee cold never abide;
To beate down her walles they all did decree;
But stoutlye deffyd them brave Mary Ambree.
And mounting the walls all undaunted did stand,
There daring the captaines to match any three:
O what a brave captaine was Mary Ambree!
To ransome thy selfe, which else must not live?
Come yield thyselfe quicklye, or slaine thou must bee.
Then smiled sweetlye faire Mary Ambree.
Whom thinke you before you now you doe behold?
A knight, sir, of England, and captaine soe free,
Who shortelye with us a prisoner must bee.
Two brests in my bosome, and therfore noe knight:
Noe knight, sirs, of England, nor captaine you see,
But a poor simple mayden, calld Mary Ambree.
Whose valor hath provd so undaunted in warre?
If England doth yield such brave maydens as thee,
Full well may they conquer, faire Mary Ambree.
Who long had advanced for Englands faire crowne;
Hee wooed her and sued her his mistress to bee,
And offerd rich presents to Mary Ambree.
Ile nere sell my honour for purple nor pall:
A mayden of England, sir, never will bee
The whore of a monarcke, quoth Mary Ambree.
Still holding the foes of faire England in scorne:
Therfore English captaines of every degree
Sing forth the brave valours of Mary Ambree.
| Reliques of Ancient English Poetry | |