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 | ||
VII. FAIR ROSAMOND.
Most of the circumstances in this popular story of king Henry II. and the beautiful Rosamond have been taken for fact by our English Historians; who, unable to account for the unnatural conduct of queen Eleanor in stimulating her sons to rebellion, have attributed it to jealousy, and supposed that Henry's amour with Rosamond was the object of that passion.
Our old English annalists seem, most of them, to have followed Higden the monk of Chester, whose account with some enlargements is thus given by Stow. “Rosamond the fayre daughter of Walter lord Clifford, concubine to Henry II. (poisoned by queen Elianor, as some thought) dyed at Woodstocke [A. D. 1177.] where king Henry had made for her a house of wonderfull working; so that no man or woman might come to her, but he that was instructed by the king, or such as were right secret with him touching the matter. This house after some was named Labyrinthus, or Dedalus worke, which was wrought like unto a knot in a garden, called a Maze ; but it was commonly said, that lastly the queene came to her by a clue of thridde, or silke, and so dealt with her, that she lived not long after: but when she was dead, she was buried at Godstow in an house of nunnes, beside Oxford, with these verses upon her tombe,
Non redolet, sed olet, quæ redolere solet.
“Is now here graven; to whom beauty was lent:
“In this grave full darke nowe is her bowre,
“That by her life was sweete and redolent:
“But now that she is from this life blent,
“Though she were sweete, now foully doth she stinke.
“A mirrour good for all men, that on her thinke.”
Stowe's Annals, Ed. 1631. p. 154.
How the queen gained admittance into Rosamond's bower is differently related. Hollingshed speaks of it, as “the common report of the people, that the queene . . . founde hir out by a silken thread, which the king had drawne after him out of hir chamber with his foot, and dealt with hir in such sharpe and cruell wise, that she lived not long after.” Vol. III. p. 115. On the other hand, in Speede's Hist. we are told that the jealous queen found her out “by a clew of silke, fallen from Rosamund's lappe, as shee sate to take ayre, and suddenly fleeing from the sight of the searcher, the end of her silke fastened to her foot, and the clew still unwinding, remained behinde: which the queene followed, till shee had found what she sought, and upon Rosamund so vented her spleene, as the lady lived not long after.” 3d Edit. p. 509. Our ballad-maker with more ingenuity, and probably as much truth, tells us the clue was gained, by surprise, from the knight, who was left to guard her bower.
It is observable, that none of the old writers attribute Rosamond's death to poison, (Stow, above, mentions it meerly as a slight conjecture); they only give us to understand, that the queen treated her harshly; which furious menaces, we may suppose, and sharp expostulations, which had such effect on her spirits, that she did not long survive it. Indeed on
Rosamond's father having been a great benefactor to the nunnery of Godstow, where she had also resided herself in the innocent part of her life, her body was conveyed there, and buried in the middle of the choir; in which place it remained till the year 1191, when Hugh bishop of Lincoln caused it to be removed. The fact is recorded by Hoveden, a contemporary writer, whose words are thus translated by Stow. “Hugh bishop of Lincolne came to the abbey of nunnes, called Godstow, . . . . and when he had entred the church to pray, he saw a tombe in the middle of the quire, covered with a pall of silke, and set about with lights of waxe: and demanding whose tombe it was, he was answered, that it was the tombe of Rosamond, that was some time lemman to Henry II. . . . . who for the love of her had done much good to that church. Then quoth the bishop, take out of this place the harlot, and bury her without the church, lest christian religion should grow in contempt, and to the end that, through example of her, other women being made afraid may beware, and keepe themselves from unlawfull and advouterous company with men.” Annals, p. 159.
History further informs us, that king John repaired Godstow nunnery, and endowed it with yearly revenues, “that
To conclude this (perhaps too prolix) account, Henry had two sons by Rosamond, from a computation of whose ages, a modern historian has endeavoured to invalidate the received story. These were William Longue-espè (or Long-sword) earl of Salisbury, and Geoffrey bishop of Lincolne . Geoffrey was the younger of Rosamond's sons, and yet is said to have been twenty years old at the time of his election to that see in 1173. Hence this writer concludes, that king Henry fell in love with Rosamond in 1149, when in king Stephen's reign he came over to be knighted by the king of Scots; he also thinks it probable that Henry's commerce with this lady broke off upon his marriage with Eleanor [in 1152.] and that the young lady, by a natural effect of grief and resentment at the defection of her lover, entered on that occasion into the nunnery of Godstowe, where she died probably before the rebellion of Henry's sons in 1173.” [Carte's hist. Vol. I. p. 652.] But let it be observed, that Henry was but sixteen years old when he came over to be knighted; that he staid but eight months in this island, and was almost all the time with the king of Scots; that he did not return back to England till 1153, the year after his marriage with Eleanor; and that no writer drops the least hint of Rosamand's having ever been abroad with her lover, nor indeed is it probable that a boy of sixteen should venture to carry over a mistress to
Indeed the true date of Geoffrey's birth, and consequently of Henry's commerce with Rosamund, seems to be best ascertained from an ancient manuscript in the Cotton library: wherein it is thus registered of Geofferey Plantagenet, “Natus est 5°. Hen. II. [1159.] Factus est miles 25°. Hen. II. [1179.] Elect. in Episcop. Lincoln. 28°. Hen. II. [1182.].” Vid. Chron. de Kirkstall. (Domitian XII.) Drake's Hist. of York, p. 422.
The following ballad is printed from four ancient copies in black letter; two of them in the Pepys library.
The second of that name,
Besides the queene, he dearly lovde
A faire and comely dame.
Her favour, and her face;
A sweeter creature in this worlde
Could never prince embrace.
Appeard to each mans sight;
Her sparkling eyes, like Orient pearles,
Did cast a heavenlye light.
Did such a colour drive,
As though the lillye and the rose
For mastership did strive.
Her name was called so,
To whom our queene, dame Ellinor,
Was known a deadlye foe.
Against the furious queene,
At Woodstocke builded such a bower,
The like was never seene.
Of stone and timber strong,
An hundered and fifty doors
Did to this bower belong:
With turnings round about,
That none but with a clue of thread,
Could enter in or out.
That was so faire and brighte,
The keeping of this bower he gave
Unto a valiant knighte.
Where she before did smile,
The kinges delighte and ladyes joy
Full soon shee did beguile:
Whom he did high advance,
Against his father raised warres
Within the realme of France.
The English land forsooke,
Of Rosamond, his lady faire,
His farewelle thus he tooke:
That pleasest best mine eye:
The fairest flower in all the worlde
To feed my fantasye:
Whose sweetness doth excelle:
My royal Rose, a thousand times
I bid thee nowe farewelle!
My sweetest Rose, a space,
And cross the seas to famous France,
Proud rebelles to abase.
My coming shortlye see,
And in my heart, when hence I am,
Ile beare my Rose with mee.”
Did heare the king saye soe,
The sorrowe of her grieved heart
Her outward lookes did showe;
The teares gusht out apace,
Which like the siver-pearled dewe
Ranne downe her comely face.
Did waxe both wan and pale,
And for the sorrow she conceivde
Her vitall spirits faile;
Before king Henryes face,
Full oft he in his princelye armes
Her bodye did embrace:
He kist her tender cheeke,
Untill he had revivde againe
Her senses milde and meeke.
The king did often say.
Because, quoth shee, to bloodye warres
My lord must part awaye.
Amonge your foes unkinde
Must goe to hazard life and limbe,
Why should I staye behinde?
Your sworde and target beare;
That on my breast the blowes may lighte,
Which would offend you there.
Prepare your bed at nighte,
And with sweete baths refresh your grace,
At your returne from fighte.
No toil I will refuse;
But wanting you, my life is death;
Nay, death Ild rather chuse!
Thy rest at home shall bee
In Englandes sweet and pleasant isle;
For travell fits not thee.
Soft peace their sexe delightes;
‘Not rugged campes, but courtlye bowers;
Gay feastes, not cruell fightes.’
With musicke passe the daye;
Whilst I, amonge the piercing pikes,
My foes seeke far awaye.
Whilst Ime in armour dighte;
Gay galliards here my love shall dance,
Whilst I my foes goe fighte.
To bee my loves defence;
Be carefull of my gallant Rose
When I am parted hence.”
As though his heart would breake:
And Rosamonde, for very griefe,
Not one plaine word could speake.
In heart be grieved sore:
After that daye faire Rosamonde
The king did see no more.
And into France was gone;
With envious heart, queene Ellinor,
To Woodstocke came anone.
In an unhappy houre;
Who with his clue of twined thread,
Came from this famous bower.
The queene this thread did gette,
And went where ladye Rosamonde
Was like an angell sette.
Beheld her beauteous face,
She was amazed in her minde
At her exceeding grace.
That riche and costlye bee;
And drinke thou up this deadlye draught,
Which I have brought to thee.
Sweet Rosamonde did falle;
And pardon of the queene she crav'd
For her offences all.
Faire Rosamonde did crye;
And lett mee not with poison stronge
Enforced bee to dye.
And in some cloyster bide;
Or else be banisht, if you please,
To range the world soe wide.
Though I was forc'd theretoe,
Preserve my life, and punish mee
As you thinke meet to doe.”
She wrunge full often there;
And downe along her lovelye face
Did trickle many a teare.
Therewith appeased bee;
The cup of deadlye poyson stronge,
As she knelt on her knee,
Who tooke it in her hand,
And from her bended knee arose,
And on her feet did stand:
Shee did for mercye calle;
And drinking up the poison stronge,
Her life she lost withalle.
Had showde its greatest spite,
Her chiefest foes did plaine confesse
Shee was a glorious wight.
When life was fled away,
At Godstowe, neare to Oxford towne,
As may be seene this day.
Consisting of vaults under ground, arched and walled with brick and stone, according to Drayton.
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry | ||