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I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,

Full daintily bedight,

If thou wilt wend thither, my little Musgràve,
Thouft lig in mine arms all night.

Quoth he, I thank ye, lady fair,
This kindnefs you fhow 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 fhall know of this,
Although I lofe a limb,

And ever whereas the bridges were broke,
He laid him down to fwim.

Afleep or awake, thou lord Barnàrd,
As thou art a man of life,

For little Mufgrave is at Bucklesford-Bury,
A-bed with thine own wedded wife.

If this be true, thou little tiny page,
This thing thou tell'st 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'st to me,
On the highest tree in Bucklesford-Bury,
Then hanged fhalt thou be.

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He called up his merry men all,

Come faddle me my steed;

This night muft I to Bucklesford-Bury;

For I never had greater need.

And fome of them whistled, and fome of them fung,
And some these words did fay,

And ever when as the lord Barnards horn blew,
Away, thou little Mufgràve, away.

Methinks I hear the throfile 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 Mufgrave,

And huggle me from the cold ; 'Tis nothing but a fhepherds boy, A driving his fheep to fold.

Is not thy hawk upon the perch?
Thy fteed eats oats and hay?

And thy fair lady in thine arms;

And would'st thou be away?

With

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 Musgràve,
Doft find my lady so sweet?

I find her sweet, quoth little Mufgràve,
The more 'tis to my pain;

I would gladly give thee three hundred pounds
That I were on yonder plain.

Arife, arife, thou little Musgràve,
And put thy clothes on,

It fhall never be faid in my country,
'That I killed a naked man.

I have two fwords in one fcabbàrd,
Full dear they coft my purse,

And thou fhalt have the best of them,
And I will have the worse.

The firft ftroke that little Mufgrave ftruck,
He hurt lord Barnard fore;

The next ftroke that lord Barnard ftruck,

Little Mufgrave ne'er ftruck more.

With that befpake the lady fair,

In bed whereas fhe lay,

Although th' art dead, thou little Musgràve,

Yet I for thee will pray :

And wish well to thy foul will I,
So long as I have life;

So will not I do for thee, Barnàrd,
Though I am thy wedded wife.

He cut her paps from off her breasts;

Great pity it was to fee,

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 'faw' me wax fo wood?

For I have flain the braveft fir knight,
That ever rode on a steed;

So have I done the fairest lady,

A

That ever did womans deed.

grave, a grave, lord Barnard cried,
To put these lovers in ;

But lay my lady o' th' upper hand,
For fhe came o' th' better kin,

BALLAD

BALLAD VIII.

FAIR ROSA MON D.

W1

HEN as king Henry rul'd this land,
The fecond of that name,

Befides the queen, he dearly lov'd,
A fair and comely dame :

Moft peerless was her beauty found,
Her favour, and her face ;
A fweeter creature in this world
Did never prince embrace.

Her crifped locks like threads of gold
Appear'd to each mans sight ;
Her fparkling eyes, like Orient pearls,
Did caft a heavenly light:

The blood within her crystal cheeks
Did fuch a colour drive,

As if the lily and the rose
For mastership did ftrive.

Yea Rofamond, fair Rofamond,

Her name was called so,

To whom dame Eleanor, our queen,

Was known a deadly foe.

The

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