Ballads of the Fleet and Other Poems A New Edition With several Additional Pieces: By Rennell Rodd |
 |
 |
THE BALLAD OF RICHARD PEAKE
|
 | Ballads of the Fleet and Other Poems |  |
117
THE BALLAD OF RICHARD PEAKE
“A good ship I know, and a poor cabin; and the language of a
cannon: and therefore as my breeding has been rough, scorning
delicacy, so must my writings be, proceeding from fingers fitter for
the pike than the pen.”
—Peake's Narrative.
This is the tale of Richard Peake,
Of Tavistock in Devon,
And the fight he fought in Xeres town,—
God rest his soul in Heaven!
Of Tavistock in Devon,
And the fight he fought in Xeres town,—
God rest his soul in Heaven!
I know each pool of Dart and Exe
Where trout or grayling hide,
I know the moors from sea to sea
And where the red-deer bide;
I know a tall ship stem to stern
What sail to set or strike,
I know to point a culverin
And how to thrust a pike.
I know the star-way through the night
And the bodings in the skies,
But many a man knows more than I
That is not wondrous wise.
I cannot turn a silken phrase,
Nor make a sonnet sing;
Yet must I write my chronicle
For my good Lord the King.
A western man and lowly born,
And early sent to sea,—
So simple as my breeding was,
Let this my record be.
Where trout or grayling hide,
I know the moors from sea to sea
And where the red-deer bide;
I know a tall ship stem to stern
What sail to set or strike,
I know to point a culverin
And how to thrust a pike.
I know the star-way through the night
And the bodings in the skies,
But many a man knows more than I
That is not wondrous wise.
I cannot turn a silken phrase,
Nor make a sonnet sing;
Yet must I write my chronicle
For my good Lord the King.
118
And early sent to sea,—
So simple as my breeding was,
Let this my record be.
Ye have heard my Lord of Essex
How he sailed to Cadiz Bay,
With all King Charles' men of war
Upon a Saturday.
We were sixteen sail of Holland,
And a hundred of the line,
And I was pricked a volunteer
Aboard the Convertine.
We had stormed the fort and castle
From rising of the sun,
And long ere noon they landed
And silenced every gun.
But I was no shore soldier,
And so on board must bide
What time my Lord of Essex
Marched up the country-side.
How he sailed to Cadiz Bay,
With all King Charles' men of war
Upon a Saturday.
We were sixteen sail of Holland,
And a hundred of the line,
And I was pricked a volunteer
Aboard the Convertine.
We had stormed the fort and castle
From rising of the sun,
And long ere noon they landed
And silenced every gun.
But I was no shore soldier,
And so on board must bide
What time my Lord of Essex
Marched up the country-side.
Now it fell on the Monday morning
I took my leave ashore,
And walked up through the orange groves
A mile might be, or more.
'Twas said the country-side was bare,
The country-folk in flight,
A score of miles round Cadiz town,
And not a don in sight;—
When suddenly a cavalier,
His long sword at the thrust,
Came spurring down the narrow way
With a clatter through the dust.
His steed was checked, his grip was loosed,
With a flap from my blue cloak;
I clutched the rider by the heel,
And caught the muffled stroke;
I dragged him down upon his face
And stripped him where he lay,
I took five silver pieces
And a horse in that affray.
But while he begged his life in words
That lisp on English ears,
There stole down through the orange groves
His squad of musketeers:
And when my hands were bound behind,
That knight, to his disgrace,
Took back the sword I stripped him of
And slashed me in the face.
With seven guards on either hand
And this brave knight before,
They brought me bound and bloody
In through the city door;
They gored my back with halberds
And spat into my face,
The urchins called me heathen swine,
God give them little grace!
They threw me into prison,
So bloodless and so weak,
It needed all their leeches
To find me strength to speak;
And vain it was my Captain sent
To ransom Richard Peake.
I saw our frigates hoisting sail
Upon the seventh day,
And through my dungeon window
I watched them fade away.
Two Irish monks came every noon
And wasted pious breath,
Adjuring me from heresy
Since I must die the death.
And when a week had passed they said
It was the Governor's mind
That I should thence to Xeres town,
To the torture, they divined.
I took my leave ashore,
And walked up through the orange groves
A mile might be, or more.
'Twas said the country-side was bare,
The country-folk in flight,
A score of miles round Cadiz town,
And not a don in sight;—
When suddenly a cavalier,
His long sword at the thrust,
Came spurring down the narrow way
With a clatter through the dust.
His steed was checked, his grip was loosed,
With a flap from my blue cloak;
119
And caught the muffled stroke;
I dragged him down upon his face
And stripped him where he lay,
I took five silver pieces
And a horse in that affray.
But while he begged his life in words
That lisp on English ears,
There stole down through the orange groves
His squad of musketeers:
And when my hands were bound behind,
That knight, to his disgrace,
Took back the sword I stripped him of
And slashed me in the face.
With seven guards on either hand
And this brave knight before,
They brought me bound and bloody
In through the city door;
They gored my back with halberds
And spat into my face,
The urchins called me heathen swine,
God give them little grace!
They threw me into prison,
So bloodless and so weak,
It needed all their leeches
To find me strength to speak;
And vain it was my Captain sent
To ransom Richard Peake.
I saw our frigates hoisting sail
Upon the seventh day,
And through my dungeon window
I watched them fade away.
Two Irish monks came every noon
And wasted pious breath,
Adjuring me from heresy
Since I must die the death.
120
It was the Governor's mind
That I should thence to Xeres town,
To the torture, they divined.
In Xeres Duke Medina lay
With many a Count and Earl,
And gravely these good lords were met
To try the English churl.
It was a pleasant sight to see
Where they sat in double rows,
Such ruffles and such velvet cloaks
And slashen sleeves and hose!
The Duke sat at the table's head
With the King's golden chain—
I mind no finer gentlemen
Than gentlemen in Spain.
And there and then Medina's self
Rebuked that craven knight
Who struck the prisoner in the face
He dared not face in fight.
They plied me well with questions—
What guns were in the fleet?
What ship was mine? what captain?
And I answered as was meet.
They asked how strong the fort was
That watches Plymouth Sound,
And boastfully I lied my best
As a Devon man was bound.
Quoth one, “Why spared ye Cadiz?
Your fleet put back to sea!”
“Who loots,” said I, “in palaces
May let the almshouse be.”
But all this while the soldiers round
Made mirth each time I spoke,
And ugly words for English ears
Went round the common folk:
Until some jest rang o'er the rest,
And all those nobles smiled;
Now God forbid that I should stand
And hear my land reviled.
With many a Count and Earl,
And gravely these good lords were met
To try the English churl.
It was a pleasant sight to see
Where they sat in double rows,
Such ruffles and such velvet cloaks
And slashen sleeves and hose!
The Duke sat at the table's head
With the King's golden chain—
I mind no finer gentlemen
Than gentlemen in Spain.
And there and then Medina's self
Rebuked that craven knight
Who struck the prisoner in the face
He dared not face in fight.
They plied me well with questions—
What guns were in the fleet?
What ship was mine? what captain?
And I answered as was meet.
They asked how strong the fort was
That watches Plymouth Sound,
And boastfully I lied my best
As a Devon man was bound.
Quoth one, “Why spared ye Cadiz?
Your fleet put back to sea!”
“Who loots,” said I, “in palaces
May let the almshouse be.”
But all this while the soldiers round
Made mirth each time I spoke,
And ugly words for English ears
Went round the common folk:
121
And all those nobles smiled;
Now God forbid that I should stand
And hear my land reviled.
I said, “Your king keeps gallant troops
To wear such bands and cuffs,
And they should hold in battle firm
When the starch is in their ruffs.
Yet were I free to pick my choice
From a score of oaken sticks,
I'd stand and play my quarterstaff
For life or death with six.”
“Now, by the rood,” Medina said,
“A braggart though thou be,
I will not take thee at thy word,
But fight thou shalt with three!”
To wear such bands and cuffs,
And they should hold in battle firm
When the starch is in their ruffs.
Yet were I free to pick my choice
From a score of oaken sticks,
I'd stand and play my quarterstaff
For life or death with six.”
“Now, by the rood,” Medina said,
“A braggart though thou be,
I will not take thee at thy word,
But fight thou shalt with three!”
And if I made so bold a face
Be sure it was not pride,
But Richard Peake of Tavistock
Had heard his land belied.
I deemed my death was long resolved,
So basely would not die,
And three to one were heavy odds
For a better man than I.
A halberd was my quarterstaff—
They knocked the blade away,
The iron spike which shod the butt
Stood me in stead that day.
I swung the halberd round my head
And felt my might again,
And I took my stand for England
Against the arch-foe Spain.
Be sure it was not pride,
But Richard Peake of Tavistock
Had heard his land belied.
I deemed my death was long resolved,
So basely would not die,
And three to one were heavy odds
For a better man than I.
A halberd was my quarterstaff—
They knocked the blade away,
The iron spike which shod the butt
Stood me in stead that day.
I swung the halberd round my head
And felt my might again,
And I took my stand for England
Against the arch-foe Spain.
122
Then out stepped three hidalgos,
Steel armoured cap-a-pie,
And lightly sprang into the lists
With a mocking bow to me.
God save my Lord—though I must speak—
It was a pretty fight.
Three long swords thrust and feinted
In front, to left, to right;
While round their heads the halberd swung
And as they closed up near,
I snapped two blades, then shortened grip
And used it as a spear;
I drove it at the third one's breast,
And a horrid wound it made,
The iron butt went through his heart
And out by the shoulder-blade.
And now befell a wondrous thing,—
I needs must say again
Earth holds no finer gentlemen
Than the gentlemen of Spain.
Steel armoured cap-a-pie,
And lightly sprang into the lists
With a mocking bow to me.
God save my Lord—though I must speak—
It was a pretty fight.
Three long swords thrust and feinted
In front, to left, to right;
While round their heads the halberd swung
And as they closed up near,
I snapped two blades, then shortened grip
And used it as a spear;
I drove it at the third one's breast,
And a horrid wound it made,
The iron butt went through his heart
And out by the shoulder-blade.
And now befell a wondrous thing,—
I needs must say again
Earth holds no finer gentlemen
Than the gentlemen of Spain.
Those nobles rose and clapped their hands:
The Duke was first to speak,
He bade no man on pain of death
Lay hands on Richard Peake.
They gave me gold, a band and cuffs,
This cloak I wear, the ring,
And sent me forth escorted well
To see the Spanish King;
And in Madrid on Christmas Day
I knelt before his sight,
Resolving all his questionings
With what poor wit I might.
He would have had me bide in Spain
To serve on shore or sea,
But I've a wife by Tavy side
And she's got none but me.
Wherefore he pitied my estate
And pardon free bestowed,
With a hundred pistoles in my scrip
For charges on the road.
And so I bade Madrid farewell,
And came without annoy
Through France to Bordeaux haven,
And thence took ship to Foy.
The Duke was first to speak,
He bade no man on pain of death
Lay hands on Richard Peake.
They gave me gold, a band and cuffs,
This cloak I wear, the ring,
And sent me forth escorted well
To see the Spanish King;
And in Madrid on Christmas Day
I knelt before his sight,
Resolving all his questionings
With what poor wit I might.
He would have had me bide in Spain
To serve on shore or sea,
But I've a wife by Tavy side
And she's got none but me.
123
And pardon free bestowed,
With a hundred pistoles in my scrip
For charges on the road.
And so I bade Madrid farewell,
And came without annoy
Through France to Bordeaux haven,
And thence took ship to Foy.
Now while the Tamar winds to sea,
And while the Tavy runs,
God bless my old west country,
And God bless all her sons!
It's not in vain we've tracked the deer
By dale and moor and fen,
And drunk the morning with our lips,
And grown up brawny men.
It's not in vain we swam the Sound,
And tugged the heavy oar,
And braced the nerve and trained the limbs
That English mothers bore.
And therefore when the fight goes hard,
And the many meet the few,
She'll still find hands to do the work
That English lads must do.
So here I render thanks to God,
Who brought me through the sea,
Across the desert, back again,
My mother-land, to thee.
And while the Tavy runs,
God bless my old west country,
And God bless all her sons!
It's not in vain we've tracked the deer
By dale and moor and fen,
And drunk the morning with our lips,
And grown up brawny men.
It's not in vain we swam the Sound,
And tugged the heavy oar,
And braced the nerve and trained the limbs
That English mothers bore.
And therefore when the fight goes hard,
And the many meet the few,
She'll still find hands to do the work
That English lads must do.
So here I render thanks to God,
Who brought me through the sea,
Across the desert, back again,
My mother-land, to thee.
This was the tale of Richard Peake
Of Tavistock in Devon,
And the fight he fought in Xeres town,—
God rest his soul in Heaven!
Of Tavistock in Devon,
And the fight he fought in Xeres town,—
God rest his soul in Heaven!
| Ballads of the Fleet and Other Poems | |