 | Ballads in Imitation of the Antient |  |
96
II. SECOND PART.
Shewing how the loving Dame moaned the loss of her gallant Lord Percy. After which followeth the purpose of the noble Hotspur, with the haughty message sent by him unto King Henry IV.
In this second Fyt, good yeomen,
I shall cause ye mickle woe;
Lady Catherine ye shall pitty,
For the Dame your tears will flow.
Percy fled the heart that lov'd him,
Swift he did his course pursue;
Catherine wail'd her Hotspur's absence,
She had mickle cause to rue.
I shall cause ye mickle woe;
Lady Catherine ye shall pitty,
For the Dame your tears will flow.
Percy fled the heart that lov'd him,
Swift he did his course pursue;
Catherine wail'd her Hotspur's absence,
She had mickle cause to rue.
97
From the morn till silent evening
Moan'd this Lady kind and fair,
“Smile, my babe, Oh! smile my infant,
“Smile, and ease thy Mother's care.”
From the eve till dusky twilight
Did this weeping Lady say
“Ah, my babe thy Sire hath fled us,
“Whither doth my Percy stray!”
Moan'd this Lady kind and fair,
“Smile, my babe, Oh! smile my infant,
“Smile, and ease thy Mother's care.”
From the eve till dusky twilight
Did this weeping Lady say
“Ah, my babe thy Sire hath fled us,
“Whither doth my Percy stray!”
And by night, upon the pillow,
Watchful were her eyes so bright;
“Sweetly sleep, my smiling baby,
“Thou alone dost cheer my sight:
“As I trace thine infant features,
“As I trace them line for line,
“Lo, I view my Lord, my husband,
“In that face doth Percy shine.”
Watchful were her eyes so bright;
“Sweetly sleep, my smiling baby,
“Thou alone dost cheer my sight:
“As I trace thine infant features,
“As I trace them line for line,
“Lo, I view my Lord, my husband,
“In that face doth Percy shine.”
98
Sadly thus the day did glide on,
Sadly stole the midnight hour,
And at dawn the Lady Cath'rine
Did ymount the high watch-Tower;
Round her blew the winds so bleakly,
Cath'rine swell'd them with a sigh;
“Peace,” she'd say, “my darling infant,”
Then she'd sing the Lullaby.
Sadly stole the midnight hour,
And at dawn the Lady Cath'rine
Did ymount the high watch-Tower;
Round her blew the winds so bleakly,
Cath'rine swell'd them with a sigh;
“Peace,” she'd say, “my darling infant,”
Then she'd sing the Lullaby.
Oft her lilly hand upraising,
She would wipe the starting tear,
While tow'rd East and West sad gazing,
Naught was seen her soul to cheer:
Northward lay the Heath so dreary,
Southward wav'd the Forest green,
Ni of footmen, ni of horsemen,
Were there any to be seen.
She would wipe the starting tear,
While tow'rd East and West sad gazing,
Naught was seen her soul to cheer:
Northward lay the Heath so dreary,
Southward wav'd the Forest green,
Ni of footmen, ni of horsemen,
Were there any to be seen.
99
Nothing save the lark so cheery
Naught but birds the dame could see;
“Ah,” quod Cath'rine, “little songsters
“Ye are happier far than me;
“Each can fly to bonny green wood,
“There you'll find your mate so true;
“Wou'd I were but such a songster,
“And my Percy one of you.”
Naught but birds the dame could see;
“Ah,” quod Cath'rine, “little songsters
“Ye are happier far than me;
“Each can fly to bonny green wood,
“There you'll find your mate so true;
“Wou'd I were but such a songster,
“And my Percy one of you.”
Meanwhile rode the gallant Hotspur,
On high deeds his thoughts were bent,
Oft he plann'd the secret purpose,
Oft he con'd the bold intent;
Till at length he gain'd those Nobles,
Who to aid him were allied,
There he found the hardy Douglas,
With full many Chiefs beside.
On high deeds his thoughts were bent,
Oft he plann'd the secret purpose,
Oft he con'd the bold intent;
Till at length he gain'd those Nobles,
Who to aid him were allied,
There he found the hardy Douglas,
With full many Chiefs beside.
100
Straight they march'd their gallant warriors
Till nigh Shrewsb'ry's walls they came:
Thither hied King Henry's army
To destroy rebellion's flame.
Soon the King did send his trumpet
Pardon granting, if in peace
Ev'ry Noble and his follower
Would these civil tumults cease.
Till nigh Shrewsb'ry's walls they came:
Thither hied King Henry's army
To destroy rebellion's flame.
Soon the King did send his trumpet
Pardon granting, if in peace
Ev'ry Noble and his follower
Would these civil tumults cease.
“Tell thy Chief,” cried hardy Percy,
“We be honest men and true,
“Bolingbroke's a Traytor leader,
“But his baseness he shall rue.
“Bid him free our captive Richard,
“Bid him yield the crown h'hath ta'en,
“Bid him straight disband his soldiers
“Or we'll strive with might and main.
“We be honest men and true,
“Bolingbroke's a Traytor leader,
“But his baseness he shall rue.
“Bid him free our captive Richard,
“Bid him yield the crown h'hath ta'en,
“Bid him straight disband his soldiers
“Or we'll strive with might and main.
101
“When at Ravenspurg
he landed,
“Rightful was his claim, I ween,
“Peaceful then his every action,
“Meek and lowly was his mien;
“But by fraud and wily cunning,
“He his monarch did entrap,
“Braggart like, he then deposed him,
“Rueful is the sad mishap.
“Rightful was his claim, I ween,
“Peaceful then his every action,
“Meek and lowly was his mien;
“But by fraud and wily cunning,
“He his monarch did entrap,
“Braggart like, he then deposed him,
“Rueful is the sad mishap.
“These our terms are, if straight yielding,
“Bolingbroke doth wend his way,
“We insure our King's forgiveness,
“If for aye he doth obey:
“But should he, like bold usurper,
“These our wholesome terms deny,
“Then we'll curb the rebel Traytor,
“Or we'll in the just cause die.
“Bolingbroke doth wend his way,
“We insure our King's forgiveness,
“If for aye he doth obey:
“But should he, like bold usurper,
“These our wholesome terms deny,
“Then we'll curb the rebel Traytor,
“Or we'll in the just cause die.
102
Having heard the Percy's answer,
Grimly did King Henry frown,
By my say, these hardy rebels,
Soon shall bend hefore my crown.
Quod the King, the western welkin,
Is yclad with gold-ey'd day:
Yet we'll rest the morrow's dawning,
Ere we 'gin the bloody fray.
Grimly did King Henry frown,
By my say, these hardy rebels,
Soon shall bend hefore my crown.
Quod the King, the western welkin,
Is yclad with gold-ey'd day:
Yet we'll rest the morrow's dawning,
Ere we 'gin the bloody fray.
End of the Second Part.
| Ballads in Imitation of the Antient | |