The English National Anthem (which, as a merely literary production, is hardly entitled to notice) is generally attributed to Dr. John Bull (1591), professor of music, Oxford, and chamber musician to James I. Henry Carey's son claimed it as the production of his father, whose granddaughter, Alice Carey, was the mother of Edmund Kean, the actor. The germ of the song is to be found in one which Sir Peter Carew used to sing before Henry VIII-Chorus: "And I said, Good Lord, defend England with thy most holy hand, God save our gracions King! God save the King! O Lord our God, arise! And make them fall; WINIFREDA. This poem Bishop Percy believes to have been first printed in a volume of "Miscellaneous Poems by Different Hands," by David Lewis (1726). The authorship, though much discussed, is as yet unknown. Away! let naught to love displeasing, What though no grants of royal donors With pompous title grace our blood? We'll shine in more substantial honors, And to be noble we'll be good. Our name, while virtue thus we tender, Will sweetly sound where'er 'tis spoke; And all the great ones they shall wonder How they respect such little folk. What though from Fortune's lavish bounty Still shall each kind returning season And that's the only life to live. Through youth and age in love excelling, How should I love the pretty creatures, And when with envy Time transported Shall think to rob us of our joys, You'll in your girls again be courted, And I'll go wooing in my boys. OUR GUDE-MAN. In this humorous ballad, the wife hides a rebel relative in the house, and endeavors to guard her husband's loyalty at the expense of her own veracity, and the "gude-man's" sense of sight. Our gude-man cam' hame at e'en, And hame cam' he; And there he saw a saddle-horse, Whaur nae horse should be. How cam' this horse here, 'Tis naething but a milk coy "A milk cow!" quo' he. "Far ha'e I ridden, And meikle ha'e I seeu; Our gude-man cam' hame at e'en, And hame cam' he; He spied a pair o' jack-boots, Whaur nae boots should be. "What's this now, gude-wife? What's this I see? How cam' these boots here, "Water-stoups!" quo' he. "Far ha'e I ridden, And far'er ha'e I gane; But siller spurs on water-stoups Saw I never nane!" Our gude-man cam' hame at e'en, And hame cam' he; And there he saw a sword, Whaur nae sword should be. "What's this now, gude-wife! What's this I see? Oh, how cam' this sword here, Without the leave o' me?" "A sword!" quo' she. "Ay, a sword," quo' he. "Shame fa' your cuckold face, And ill mat ye see! It's but a parritch spurtle' My minnie sent to me." "A spurtle" quo' he. "Ay, a spurtle," quo' she. "Weel, far ha'e I ridden, And meikle ha'e I seen; But siller-handled spurtles Saw I never nane!" Our gude-man cam' hame at e'en, There he spied a pouthered wig, How cam' this wig here, "A wig!" quo' she. "Ay, a wig," quo' he. "Shame fa' your cuckold face, And ill mat ye see! 'Tis naething but a clockin' hen My minnie sent to me." "A clockin' hen!" quo' he. "Ay, a clockin' hen," quo' she. "Far ha'e I ridden, And meikle ha'e I seen; Our gude-man cam' hame at e'en, And hame cam' he; And there he saw a riding-coat, Whaur nae coat should be. "Oh, how cam' this coat here? How can this be? How cam' this coat here, Blinder mat yo be! It's but a pair o' blankets 1 A stick for stirring porridge. |