The Book of Brave Old Ballads Part 16

And then the b.l.o.o.d.y enemy They fiercely did a.s.sail, And fought it out most furiously, Not doubting to prevail: The wounded men on both sides fell Most piteous for to see, Yet nothing could the courage quell Of brave lord Willoughbey.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BRAVE LORD WILLOUGHBY.]

For seven hours to all men's view This fight endured sore, Until our men so feeble grew, That they could fight no more; And then upon dead horses Full savourly they ate, And drank the puddle water, They could no better get.

When they had fed so freely, They kneeled on the ground, And praised G.o.d devoutly For the favour they had found; And beating up their colours, The fight they did renew, And turning tow'rds the Spaniard, A thousand more they slew.

The sharp steel-pointed arrows, And bullets thick did fly; Then did our valiant soldiers Charge on most furiously; Which made the Spaniards waver, They thought it best to flee, They fear'd the stout behaviour Of brave lord Willoughbey.

Then quoth the Spanish general, Come let us march away, I fear we shall be spoiled all, If here we longer stay; For yonder comes lord Willoughbey With courage fierce and fell, He will not give one inch of way For all the devils in h.e.l.l.

And then the fearful enemy Was quickly put to flight, Our men pursued courageously, And caught their forces quite; But at last they gave a shout, Which echoed through the sky, G.o.d, and St. George for England!

The conquerors did cry.

This news was brought to England With all the speed might be, And soon our gracious queen was told Of this same victory.

O this is brave lord Willoughbey, My love that ever won, Of all the lords of honour, 'Tis he great deeds hath done.

To the soldiers that were maimed, And wounded in the fray, The queen allowed a pension Of fifteen pence a day; And from all costs and charges She quit and set them free: And this she did all for the sake Of brave lord Willoughbey.

Then courage, n.o.ble Englishmen, And never be dismayed: If that we be but one to ten, We will not be afraid To fight with foreign enemies, And set our nation free.

And thus I end the b.l.o.o.d.y bout Of brave lord Willoughbey.

FOOTNOTES:

[124] Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughbey of Eresby, died 1601.

[125] A kind of gun.

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.

An ancient story I'll tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called king John; And he ruled England with main and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintain'd little right.

And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry, Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury; How for his house-keeping, and high renown, They rode post for him to fair London town.

An hundred men, the king did hear say, The abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty gold chains, without any doubt, In velvet coats waited the abbot about.

How now, father abbot, I hear it of thee, Thou keepest a far better house than me, And for thy house-keeping and high renown, I fear thou work'st treason against my crown.

My liege, quoth the abbot, I would it were known, I never spend nothing, but what is my own; And I trust, your grace will do me no deer,[126]

For spending of my own true-gotten gear.

Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is high, And now for the same thou needest must die; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy body.

And first, quoth the king, when I'm in this stead,[127]

With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so n.o.ble of birth, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

Secondly, tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride the whole world about.

And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think.

O, these are hard questions for my shallow wit, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet: But if you will give me but three weeks' s.p.a.ce, I'll do my endeavour to answer your grace.

Now three weeks' s.p.a.ce to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY.]

Away rode the abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge, and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise.

Then home rode the abbot of comfort so cold, And he met his shepherd a going to fold: How now, my lord abbot, you are welcome home; What news do you bring us from good king John?

Sad news, sad news, shepherd, I must give; That I have but three days more to live: For if I do not answer him questions three, My head will be smitten from my body.

The first is to tell him there in that stead, With his crown of gold so fair on his head, Among all his liege-men so n.o.ble of birth, To within one penny of what he is worth.

The second, to tell him, without any doubt, How soon he may ride this whole world about: And at the third question I must not shrink, But tell him there truly what he does think.

Now cheer up, sire abbot, did you never hear yet, That a fool he may learn a wise man wit?

Lend me horse, and serving-men, and your apparel, And I'll ride to London to answer your quarrel.

Nay frown not, if it hath been told unto me, I am like your lordship, as ever may be: And if you will but lend me your gown, There is none shall know us at fair London town.

Now horses, and serving-men thou shalt have, With sumptuous array most gallant and brave; With crozier, and mitre, and rochet, and cope, Fit to appear 'fore our father the pope.

Now welcome, sire abbot, the king he did say, 'Tis well thou'rt come back to keep thy day; For and if thou canst answer my questions three, Thy life and thy living both saved shall be.

And first, when thou seest me here in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so n.o.ble of birth, Tell me to one penny what I am worth.

For thirty pence our Saviour was sold Among the false Jews, as I have been told; And twenty-nine is the worth of thee, For I think, thou art one penny worser than he.

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Bittel,[128]

I did not think I had been worth so little!

--Now secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride this whole world about.

You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same, Until the next morning he riseth again; And then your grace need not make any doubt, But in twenty-four hours you'll ride it about.

The king he laughed, and swore by St. Jone, I did not think it could be gone so soon!

--Now from the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think.

Yea, that shall I do, and make your grace merry: You think I'm the abbot of Canterbury; But I'm his poor shepherd, as plain you may see, That am come to beg pardon for him and for me.

The king he laughed, and swore by the ma.s.s, I'll make thee lord abbot this day in his place!

Now nay, my liege, be not in such speed, For, alack, I can neither write nor read.

Four n.o.bles a week then I will give thee, For this merry jest thou hast shown unto me; And tell the old abbot when thou com'st home, Thou hast brought him a pardon from good king John.