They hew'd him when they had him got,
As fmall as Flesh into the Pot,

Lo! thus befel a heavy Lot,
About this bonny Lafs.

The Lady young, which did lament
This cruel cursed Strife,
For very Grief dyed that Day,

A Maiden and a Wife :

An hundred Men, that hapless Day,
Did lofe their Lives in that fame Fray;
And 'twixt thofe Names, as many say,
Is deadly Strife fill 'biding.

An Excellent Ballad of a Prince of

England's Courtship to the King of France's Daughter, and how the Prince was disasterously flain, and the aforefaid Princefs was afterwards marry'd to a Forrefter.

To the Tune of, Crimfon Velvet.

The following Song is, I believe, written on a fictitious Subject, at least I have not been able to difcover any Partof Hiftory to which it alludes; however, I will not pretend to advance pofitively that it is fictitious, feeing that very few of thefe venerable ancient Song Editors were whollyindebted to Invention for their Poetical Productions; moft of thofe who do not relate a direct Fact having fome Story at least in view, which through length of Time may have been forgotten.

IN the Days of old,

IN

When fair France flourish,

Stories plainly told,

Lovers felt annoy:

The

The King a Daughter had,
Beauteous, fair and comely,
Which made her Father glad,
She was his only Joy;
A Prince from England came,
Whofe Deeds did merrit Fame,

He woo'd her long, and lo at last,
Look what he did require,

She granted his Defire,

Their Hearts in one were linked fast.

Which when her Father proved,

Lord how he was moved,

And tormented in his Mind; He fought for to prevent them, And to difcontent them,

Fortune crossed Lovers kind.

When these Princes twain

Were thus barr'd of Pleasures,
Through the King's Difdain,
Which their Joys withstood:
The Lady lock'd up close
Her Jewels and her Treasure,
Having no remorfe

Of State or Royal Blood:

In homely poor Array

She went from Court away,

To meet her Love and Heart's de light,

Who in a Forest great,

Had taken up his Seat,

To wait her coming in the Night:

But lo, what fudden Danger,

To this Princely Stranger,

Chanced as he fet alone;

By Outlaws he was robbed,
And with a Poniard ftabbed,
Uttering many a dying Groan.

The Princess armed by him,
And by true Desire,

Wandring

Wandring all the Night,
Without Dread at all:
Still unknown she pass'd,
In her strange Attire,
Coming at the last

Within Eccho's call:
You fair Woods, quoth she,
Honoured may you be,

Harbouring my Hearts delight: Which doth incompass here

My Joy and only dear,

My trufty Friend and comely Knight.

Sweet I come unto thee,

Sweet I come to woo thee,

That thou may'st not angry be,

For my long delaying,

And thy courteous staying,

Amends for all I'll make to thee.

Paffing thus alone

Through the filent Forest,

Many a grievous Groan

Sounded in her Ear;

Where she heard a Man

To lament the forest

Chance that ever came,

Forc'd by deadly Strife: Farewel, my dear, quoth he, Whom I fhall never fee,

For why, my Life is at an end,

For thy fweet fake I dye,

Through Villains Cruelty,

To fhow I am a faithful Friend.

Here I lye bleeding,

While my Thoughts are feeding,

On the rarest Beauty found,

O hard hap that may be,

Little knows my Lady

My Heart's Blood lies on the Ground.

With that he gave a Groan,

That did break afunder, All the tender Strings

Of his gentle Heart: She who knew his Voice, At his Tale did wonder, All her former Joys

Did to Grief convert :

Strait fhe ran to fee,

Who this Man should be,

That fo like her Love did speak;
And found when as she came,
Her lovely Lord lay flain,

Smear'd in Blood which Life did break,
Which when that she efpyed,

Lord how fore she cryed,

Her Sorrows could not counted be;

Her Eyes like Fountains running,
While the cry'd out, My Darling,

Would God that I had dy'd for thee.

His pale Lips, alas,

Twenty times the kissed, And his Face did wash With her brinish Tears; Every bleeding Wound. Her fair Face bedewed, Wiping of the Blood

With her golden Hair: Speak, my Love, quoth fhe,

Speak, dear Prince, to me,

One fweet Word of Comfort give;

Lift up thy fair Eyes,

Listen to my Cries,

Think in what great Grief I live:

All in vain fhe fued,

All in vain she wooed,

The Prince's Life was fled and gone. There flood she still mourning,

'Till the Sun's approaching,

And bright Day was coming on.

In