I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,

Full daintily bedight,
If thou wilt wend thither, my little Musgrave,

Thouft lig in mine arms all night.

Quoth he, I thank ye, lady fair,

This kindness you show to me ; And whether it be to my weal or woe,

This night will I lig with thee.

All this was heard by a little tiny page,

By his ladys coach as he ran : Quoth he, though I am my ladys page,

Yet I am my lord Barnards man.

My lord Barnard shall know of this,

Although I lose a limb,
And ever whereas the bridges were broke,

He laid him down to swim.

Asleep or awake, thou lord Barnard,

As thou art a man of life,
For little Musgrave is at Bucklesford-Bury,

A-bed with thine own wedded wife.

If this be true, thou little tiny page,

This thing thou tell’it to me,
Then all the land in Bucklesford-Bury,

I freely give to thee.

But

But if't be a lye, thou little tiny page,

This thing thou tell'it to me,
On the highest tree in Bucklesford-Bury,

Then hanged shalt thou be.

He called up his merry men all,

Come saddle me my steed;
This night must I to Bucklesford-Bury ;

For I never had greater need.

And some of them whistled, and some of them sung,

And some these words did say,
And ever when as the lord Barnards horn blew,

Away, thou little Musgrave, away.

Methinks I hear the throftle cock,

Methinks I hear the jay,
Methinks I hear my lord Barnards horn ;

And I would I were away.

Lie ftill, lie ftill, thou little Musgrave,

And huggle me from the cold ; 'Tis nothing but a shepherds boy,

A driving his sheep to fold.

With that

my

lord Barnard came to the door, And lighted upon a stone ; He plucked out three filver keys,

And opened the doors each one.

He lifted up the coverlet,

He lifted up the sheet ;
How now, how now, thou little Musgrave,

Doft find my lady so sweet?

I find her sweet, quoth little Musgrave,

The more 'tis to my pain ;
I would gladly give thee three hundred pounds

That I were on yonder plain.

Arise, arise, thou little Musgrave,

And put thy clothes on,
It shall never be said in my country,

'That I killed a naked man.

I have two swords in one scabbard,

Full dear they cost my purse,
And thou shalt have the best of them,

And I will have the worfe.

The first stroke that little Musgrave struck,

He hurt lord Barnard fore ;
The next stroke that lord Barnard ftruck,

Little Musgrave ne'er ftruck more.

With

With that bespake the lady fair,

In bed whereas the lay,
Although th' art dead, thou little Musgrave,

Yet I for thee will pray :

And wish well to thy soul will I,

So long as I have life;
So will not I do for thee, Barnard,

Though I am thy wedded wife.

He cut her paps from off her breasts ;

Great pity it was to see,
Some drops of this fair ladys heart blood

Ran trickling down her knee,

Woe worth you, woe worth, my merry men all,

You never were born for my good ; Why did you not offer to stay my hand,

When you · saw' me wax so wood ?

For I have slain the bravest fir knight,

That ever rode on a steed; So have I done the faireft lady,

That ever did womans deed.

A grave, a grave, lord Barnard cried,
To
put

these lovers in ;
But lay my lady o' th’ upper hand,

For the came o' th' better kin,

BALLAD

BALLAD VIII.

FAIRRO SA MO N D.

W

HEN as king Henry rul'd this land,

The second of that name,
Besides the queen, he dearly lov’d,

A fair and comely dame :
Most peerless was her beauty found,

Her favour, and her face ;
A sweeter creature in this world

Did never prince embrace.

Her crisped locks like threads of gold

Appear’d to each mans sight ;
Her sparkling eyes, like Orient pearls,

Did cast a heavenly light :
The blood within her crystal cheeks

Did such a coloar drive,
As if the lily and the rose

For maftership did strive.

Yea Rofamond, fair Rosamond,

Her name was called so,
To whom dame Eleanor, our queen,

Was known a deadly foe.

The