II. A Lamentable Ballad of Fair Rofamond, King Henry the Second's Concubine.

The following Song is much older, and more beautiful that the former; and I should rather have chofen to have begun my Collection with this, had not the Order of Hiftory (for it begins with a much earlier Account of Rofamond) requir'd the other to be plac'd first. I have nothing to add by way of Preface here, fave that having taken the Liberty to contradict the Truth of feveral Facts, I muft, (to the Honour of our Ballads) fay, that Mr. Addifon (than whom no one could be fuppos'd to be better acquainted with Hiftory) feems in his Opera of Rofamond, to have as much Regard to the Authority of thefe Old Songs, as to that of the best Hiftorians.

Hen as King Henry rul'd this Land,

WH

The Second of that Name,

Befides the Queen, he dearly lov'd

A fair and comely Dame.

Moft

Moft peerless was her Beauty found,
Her Favour, and her Face;
A fweeter Creature in this World
Could never Prince embrace.

Her crifped Locks, like Threads of Gold,
Appear'd to each Man's Sight;
Her fparkling Eyes, like Orient Pearls,
Did caft a heav'nly Light.
The Blood within her crystal Cheeks
Did fuch a Colour drive,

As tho' the Lilly and the Rofe
For Mastership did strive.

Yea, Rofamond, fair Rofamond,
Her Name was called fo,

To whom our Queen, Dame Ellenor,
Was known a deadly Foe.

The King therefore, for her Defence,
Against the furious Queen,

Did fuch a Bow'r at Woodstock build,
The like was never seen.

Moft curiously that Bow'r was built
Of Stone and Timber strong,
An Hundered and fifty Doors
Did to this Bow'r belong;
And they fo cunningly contriv'd

With turning round about,

That none, but with a Clue of Thread,

Could enter in or out.

And for his Love and Lady's Sake,

That was so fair and bright,

The keeping of this Bow'r he gave
Unto a valiant Knight.

But Fortune, that doth often frown
Where the before did fmile,

The King's Delight, the Lady's Joy
Full foon fhe did beguile.

For

For why, the King's ungracious Son,
Whom he did high advance,
Against his Father raised Wars
Within the Realm of France.
But yet before our gracious King
The English Land forfook,
Of Rofamond, his Lady fair,
His Farewel thus he took :

My Rofamond, my only Rofe,
That pleasest best mine Eye;
The fairest Flow'r in all the World,
To feed my Fantasy :

The Flow'r of my affected Heart,
Whofe Sweetnefs doth excel :
My Royal Rofe, a Thousand times
I bid thee now Farewel:

For I must leave my fairest Flow'r,
My sweetest Rofe, a space,

And cross the Seas to famous France,
Proud Rebels to abase.

But yet, my Rofe, befure thou shalt
My Coming shortly fee;
And in my Heart, when hence I am,
I'll bear my Rofe with me.

When Rofamond, that Lady bright,
Did hear the King say so,

The Sorrow of her grieved Heart
Her outward Looks did fhow
And from her clear and crystal Eyes
The Tears gush'd out apace,
Which, like the filver-pearled Dew,
Ran down her comely Face.

Her lips, like to the Coral red,

Did wax both wan and pale,

And for the Sorrow the conceived,
Her vital Spirits fail;

And

And falling down all in a Swoon
Before King Henry's Face;
Full oft he in his princely Arms
Her Body did embrace;

And Twenty times, with wat❜ry Eyes,

He kifs'd her tender Cheek,

Until he had reviv'd again

Her Senfes mild and meek :
Why grieves my Rofe, my fweetest Rofe?
The King did often say:
Because, quoth fhe, to bloody Wars
My Lord must pass away.

But fince your Grace on foreign Coasts,
Amongst your Foes unkind,
Muft go to hazard Life and Limb,
Why should I ftay behind?
Nay rather, let me, like a Page,

Thy Sword and Target bear;
That on my Breast the Blows may light,

Which would offend you there.

O let me, in your Royal Tent,

Prepare your Bed at Night,

And with fweet Baths refresh your Grace, At your Return from Fight.

So I your Prefence may enjoy,

No Toil I will refuse;

But wanting you, my Life is Death,
Which doth true Love abuse.

Content thy felf, my dearest Love;
Thy Reft at Home shall be,

In England's fweet and pleasant Soil;
For Travel fits not thee.

Fair Ladies brook not bloody Wars;
Sweet Peace their Pleasures breed ;
The Nourisher of Hearts Content,
Which Fancy first did feed.

My Rofe fhall reft in Woodflock Bow'r,
With Mufick's sweet Delight;
Whilft I amongst the piercing Pikes,
Against my Foes do fight.

My Rofe in Robes of Pearl and Gold,
With Di'monds richly dight,
Shall dance the Galliards of my Love,
Whilft I my Foes do fmite.

And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust
To be my Love's Defence ;
Be careful of my gallant Rofe
When I am parted hence.
And therewithal he fetch'd a Sigh,
As tho' his Heart would break :
And Rofamond, for very Grief,

Not one plain Word could speak.

And at their Parting, well they might
In Heart be grieved fore:
After that Day, fair Rofamond

The King did fee no more.

For when his Grace had pafs'd the Seas,
And into France was gone;

With envious Heart, Queen Ellenor
To Woodflock came anon:

And forth fhe calls this trufty Knight,
In an unhappy Hour ;

Who with his Clue of twined Thread,
Came from this famous Bow'r :
And when that they had wounded him,
The Queen this Thread did get,
And went where Lady Rofamond
Was like an Angel fet.

But when the Queen with stedfast Eye
Beheld her beauteous Face,

She was amazed in her Mind

At her exceeding Grace :

Caft