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sensible of his Danger, and would willingly have made his Peace. Some of the King's Officers finding him in this Disposition, secretly perswaded him to make his Submission, adding, that they durft assure him he would be kindly receiv'd. Armstrong follow'd their Counsel,and with Sixty Horsemen unarm’d, hasten'd to the King, but imprudently forgot to provide himself with Passes, and a safe Conduct. Those who had

given him this Advice, sensible of his Error, lay in Ambush for, surprizd and took him, with his Sixty Men, and carryed’em all to the King, pretending that they had made them Prisoners. Nor was he accus'd of rob bingonly, but of having also form’da Dehgn of delivering upall that Part of the Country to the English, and being condemn’d, he, with Fifty four of his Companions, was hang'd, the other fix were reserv'd as Ho stages to deter their Fellows from being guilty of the like Crime.

Our Poet, I fuppose, thought that the Gallows was too low a Death for his Heroe, and therefore rather chose to let him dye bravely fighting. Instead of Three, he gives him a Retinue of Eightscore Men, and lays his Scene in Edenburg, and these, I think, are the only material Points in which he differs from

History.
IS
S there ever a Man in all Scotland,

From the highest Eftate to the lowest Degree,
That can shew himself now before our King,
Scotland is so full of Treachery?

I 2

Yes

Yes, there is a Man in Westmorland,

And Johnny Armstrong they do him call, He has no Lands nor Rents coming in,

Yet he keeps Eightscore Men within his Hall. He has Horses and Harness for them all,

And goodly Steeds that be Milk-white, With their goodly Belts about their Necks,

With Hats and Feathers all alike.

The King he writes a loving Letter,

And with his own Hand so tenderly, And hath sent it unto Fohnny Armstrong,

To come and speak with him speedily. When Fohn he look'd this Letter upon,

He look'd as Blith as a Bird in a Tree, I was never before a King in my Life,

My Father, my Grandfather, nor none of us three. But seeing we must go before the King,

Lord, we will go mos gallantly;
Ye shall every one have a Velvet Coat,
Laid down with golden Laces three.

And every one shall have a scarlet Cloak,

Laid down with silver Laces five,
With your golden Belts about your Necks,

With Hats and Feathers all alike.
But when Fohnny went from Giltknock-Hall,

The Wind it blew hard, and full fast it did rain,
Now fare thee well thou Giltknock-Hall,

I fear I Mall never see thee again.
Now Fohnny he is to Edenborough gone,

With his Eightscore Men fo gallantly,
And every one of them on a Milk-white Steed,
With their Bucklers and Swords hanging to their

(Knee.

But

But when Fohn came the King before,

With his Eightscore Men fo gallant to see, The King he mov'd his Bonnet to him,

He thought he had been a King as well as he.

0 Pardon, pardon, my Sovereign Liege,

Pardon for my Eightfcore Men and me; For my Name it is Johnny Armstrong,

And Subject of yours, my Liege, said he.
Away with thee, thou false Traytor,

No Pardon will I grant to thee,
But to-Morrow Morning by Eight of the Clock,

I will hang up thy Eightscore Men and thee.
Then Fohnny look'd over his left Shoulder,

And to his merry Men thus said he,
I have asked Grace of a graceless Face,

No Pardon there is for you and me.
Then John pull'd out his good broad Sword,

That was made of the Mettle so free,
Had not the King moved his Foot as he did,

John had taken his Head from his fair Body.

Come follow me my merry Men all,

We will fcorn one Foot for to fly,
It shall never be said we were hang'd like Dogs,

We will fight it out molt manfully.

Then they fought on like Champions bold,

For their Hearts were sturdy, stout and free, 'Till they had kill'd all the King's good Guard,

There were none left alive but one, two or three.

But then rose up all Edenborough,

They rose up by Thousands three,
A cowardly Scot came Fohn behind,
And run him through the fair Body.

I 3

Said

Said Fohn, Fight on my merry Men all,

I am a little wounded but am not sain, I will lay me down to bleed awhile,

Then I'll rise and fight with you again.

Then they fought on like mad Men all,

Till many a Man lay dead on the Plain,
For they were resolved before they would yield,

That every Man would there be lain.

So there they fought couragiously,

'Till most of them lay dead there and Nain, But little Musgrave, that was his Foot-Page,

With his bonny Grissel got away unta'n.
But when he came to Giltknock-Hall,

The Lady spy'd him presently,
What News, what News, thou little Foot-Page,

What News from thy Malter, and his Company.

My News is bad, Lady, he said,

Which I do bring, as you may see,
My Master Fohnny Armstrong is slain,

And all his gallant Company.
Yet thou art welcome home, my bonny Griffd,

Full oft thou hal been fed with Corn and Hay,
But now thou shalt be fed with Bread and Wine,

And thy Sides shall be spurr'd no more, I say.

O then bespake his little Son,

As he sat on his Nurse's Knee, If ever I live to be a Man,

My Father's Death reveng'd shall be.

A

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