A pleasant Ballad fhewing how two valliant Knights, Sir John ArmStrong, and Sir Michael Musgrave, fell in Love with the Beautiful Daughter of the Lady Dacres in the North; and of the great Strife that happen'd between them for her, and how they wrought the Death of One hundred Men. Another Poet willing to conceal the ignominious Death of Armstrong, has in this Song Knighted him, and made his Rival kill him, at least I am apt to believe 'tis the fame Armstrong he is talking of, and for that Reafon I have inferted it, thinking myself oblig'd to do him as much Justice as to our famous English Outlaw Robin Hood, and to leave the Story of his Marriage upon Record. S it fell out one Whitfonday, The Blith Time of the Year, When every Tree was clad with green, The Lady Dacres took her way A bright and bonny Lafs. ΙΑ Fa la Fa la tre dang de do; Trang trole lo trang de do; Sir Michael Mufgrave in like fort Two greater Friends there could not be, They fat them down upon one Seat, But rifing from their Prayers tho' Quoth Mufgrave unto Armstrong then, I fwear, faid Mufgrave, by this Sword, To steal away so sweet a Dame, Could be no Ghostly Sin. That Deed, quoth Armstrong, would be ill, Except you had her right good Will, That your Defire she would fulfil, And be thy bonny Lafs. By By this the Service quite was done, At the Church-Door the Knights did meet, Said Armstrong to the Lady fair, With that bespoke the Lady free, For Love of this bonny Lafs. Thus were the Knights both prick'd in Love, Both in one Moment thrall'd, And both with one fair Lady gay, Fair Ifabella call'd. With humble Thanks they went away, Like wounded Harts chas'd all the Day. One would not to the other say, They lov'd this bonny Lafs. Fair Ifabel on the other fide So long brave Armstrong fhe had ey'd, But as thefe Knights together rode, And Homeward did repair, Their Talk and eke their Countenance fhew'd, Their Hearts were clogg'd with Care. 12 Fair Ifabel, the one did say, With that these Friends incontinent, Great Strife betwixt them rose : Thus two Years long this Grudge did grow, These gallant Knights between, But neither for her fair Intreats, The Gentlemen of the North Country, At last did make this good Decree, About this bonny Lafs. The Love-fick Knights should both be set Within one Hall fo wide, Each of them in a gallant fort, Even at a feveral Tide; And 'twixt them both for certainty, Fair Ifabel fhould placed be, Of them to take her Choice full free, Moft like a bonny Lafs. And And as she like an Angel bright, To make and take my Choice, quoth she. O Mufgrave, thou art all too hot Quoth she, and Armstrong seems a Sot, The Nobles and the Gentles both, A bright and bonny Lafs. But Mufgrave on the Wedding-Day, In fecret fort allured out The Bridegroom for to fight; The News whereof was quickly brought And many of young Armstrong's Kin Did after Mufgrave ride; They |