How many English lords there were 'And who walkes yonder, my good lady, Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene.' 'And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye, 6 A keene captàine hee is and tryde.' 'How many miles is itt, madàme, Betwixt yond English lords and mee?' To saile to them upon the sea. I never was on English ground, And through my ring I may descrye. My mother shee was a witch ladye, And of her skille she learned mee; She wold let me see out of Lough-leven What they did in London citìe.' 'But who is yond, thou lady faire, That looketh with sic an austerne face?' 'Yonder is Sir John Foster,' quoth shee, 'Alas! he'll do ye sore disgrace.' He pulled his hatt down over his browe; He wept; in his heart he was full of woe: 115 120 125 130 135 140 1 The Lord Warden of the East marches.-2 Governor of Berwick.-3 Warden of the Middle-march. And he is gone to his noble Lord, Those sorrowful tidings him to show. 'Now nay, now nay, good James Swynàrd, And they can ne'er prove false to mee. I have now in Lough-leven been The most part of these years three, Yett have I never had noe outrake, Ne no good games that I cold see. Therefore I'll to yond shooting wend, He ne'er shall find my promise light.' He writhe a gold ring from his finger, 145 150 155 In Harley woods where I cold bee.'1 160 'And wilt thou goe, thou noble lord? The wind was faire, the boatmen call'd, Then he cast up a silver wand, Says, 'Gentle lady, fare thee well!' 1 i.e. Where I was. An ancient Idiom. 165 170 The lady fett a sigh soe deep, And in a dead swoone down shee fell. 'Now let us goe back, Douglas,' he sayd, A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe; If ought befall yond lady but good, Then blamed for ever I shall bee.' Come on, come on, my lord,' he sayes; 'Come on, come on, and let her bee: There's ladyes enow in Lough-leven For to cheere that gay ladie.' • If you 'll not turne yourself, my lord, Let me goe with my chamberlaine; We will but comfort that faire lady, And wee will return to you againe.' Come on, come on, my lord,' he sayes, Come on, come on, and let her bee: My sister is craftye, and wold beguile A thousand such as you and mee.' When they had sayled1 fifty myle, When they shold that shooting see. 'Faire words,' quoth he, they make fooles faine, 175 180 185 190 195 1 There is no navigable stream between Loch-leven and the sea: but a Ballad-maker is not obliged to understand Geography. Jamye his hatt pulled over his browe, To tell him what the Douglas sayd. 'Hold upp thy head, man,' quoth his lord; Nor therefore lett thy courage fayle, He did it but to prove thy heart, To see if he cold make it quail.' When they had other fifty sayld, Sayd, 'What wilt thou nowe doe with mee?' 'Looke that your brydle be wight, my lord, 'What needeth this, Douglas,' he sayth; "What needest thou to flyte with mee? For I was counted a horseman good Before that ever I mett with thee. A false Hector hath my horse, Who dealt with mee so treacherouslìe: When they had sayled other fifty mile, A deputed [laird] landed Lord Percye. Ver. 224, Fol. MS. reads land, and has not the following stanza. 200 205 210 215 220 Then he at Yorke was doomde to dye, It was, alas! a sorrowful sight: Thus they betrayed that noble earle, Who ever was a gallant wight. 225 V. MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS. This excellent philosophical song appears to have been famous in the sixteenth century. It is quoted by Ben Jonson in his play of Every Man out of his Humour,' first acted in 1599, A. 1. Sc. 1. where an impatient person says, 'I am no such pil'd cynique to believe To sing, "My minde to me a kingdome is," When the lanke hungrie belly barkes for foode.' It is here chiefly printed from a thin quarto Music book, intitled 'Psalmes, Sonets, and Songs of sadnes and pietie, made into Musicke of five parts: &c. By William Byrd, one of the Gent. cf the Queenes Majesties honorable Chappell.-Printed by Thomas East, &c.' 4to. no date: but Ames in his Typog. has mentioned another edit. of the same book, dated 1588, which I take to have been later than this. Some improvements, and an additional stanza (sc. the 5th), were had from two other ancient copies; one of them in black letter in the Pepys Collection, thus inscribed, 'A sweet and pleasant sonet, intitled, "My Minde to me a Kingdom is." To the tune of, In Crete, &c.' Some of the stanzas in this poem were printed by Byrd separate from the rest; they are here given in what seemed the most natural order.1 My minde to me a kingdome is; Such perfect joy therein I finde That God or Nature hath assignde: Though much I want, that most would have, 5 1 Some have recently maintained that this fine song was written by Sir Edward Dyer, a friend of Sir Philip Sidney, and who was praised by Bacon and Spenser.-ED. |