Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (64 page)

S
i
r Roger Heuer of Harcliffe tow,
  
205
 
his sisters sonne was hee;
S
i
r David Lambwell, well esteemed,
 
but saved he cold not bee.

And the Lo
rd
Maxwell, in like case,
 
w
i
th Douglas he did dye;
  
210
Of twenty hundred Scottish speeres,
 
scarce fifty-fiue did flye.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen
 
went home but fifty-three;
The rest in Cheuy Chase were slaine,
  
215
 
vnder the greenwoode tree.

Next day did many widdowes come
 
their husbands to bewayle;
They washt their wounds in brinish teares,
 
but all wold not p
re
vayle.
  
220

Theyr bodyes, bathed in purple blood,
 
the bore w
i
th them away;
They kist them dead a thousand times
 
ere the were cladd in clay.

The newes was brought to Eddenborrow,
  
225
 
where Scottlands
king
did rayne,
That
braue Erle Douglas soddainlye
 
was w
i
th an arrow slaine.

“O heauy newes!” K
ing
Iames can say;
 
“Scotland may wittenesse bee
  
230
I haue not any cap
taine
more
 
of such account as hee.”

Like tydings to K
ing
Henery came,
 
wi
thin as short a space,
Tha
t Pearcy of Northumberland
  
235
 
was slaine in Cheuy Chase.

“Now God be w
i
th him!” said our k
ing,
 
“sith it will noe better bee;
I trust I haue within my realme
 
fiue hundred as good as hee.
  
240

“Yett shall not Scotts nor Scottland say
 
but I will vengeance take,
And be revenged on them all
 
for braue Erle Percyes sake.”

This vow the k
ing
did well p
er
forme
  
245
 
after on Humble-downe;
In one day fifty k
nights
were slayne,
 
w
i
th lords of great renowne.

And of the rest, of small account,
 
did many hundreds dye:
  
250
Thus endeth the hunting in Cheuy Chase,
 
made by the Erle Pearcye.

God saue our k
ing,
and blesse this land
 
w
i
th plentye, ioy, and peace,
And grant hencforth
that
foule debate
  
255
 
twixt noble men may ceaze!

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

Johnie Armstrong

Traditional Ballads

THERE dwelt a man in faire Westmerland,
 
Ionnë Armestrong men did him call,
He had nither lands nor rents coming in,
 
Yet he kept eight score men in his hall.

He had horse and harness for them all,
  
5
 
Goodly steeds were all milke-white;
O the golden bands an about their necks,
 
And their weapons, they were all alike.

Newes then was brought unto the king
 
That there was sicke a won as hee,
  
10
That livëd lyke a bold out-law,
 
And robbëd all the north country.

The king he writt an letter then,
 
A letter which was large and long;
He signëd it with his owne hand,
  
15
 
And he promised to doe him no wrong.

When this letter came Ionnë untill,
 
His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree:
“Never was I sent for before any king,
 
My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee.
  
20

“And if wee goe the king before,
 
I would we went most orderly;
Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak,
 
Laced with silver laces three.

“Every won of you shall have his velvett coat,
  
25
 
Laced with sillver lace so white;
O the golden bands an about your necks,
 
Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke.”

By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock,
 
Towards Edenburough gon was hee,
  
30
And with him all his eight score men;
 
Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see!

When Ionnë came befower the king,
 
He fell downe on his knee;
“O pardon, my soveraine leige,” he said,
  
35
 
“O pardon my eight score men and mee!”

“Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong,
 
For thy eight score men nor thee;
For tomorrow morning by ten of the clock,
 
Both thou and them shall hang on the gallowtree.”
  
40

But Ionnë look’d over his left shoulder,
 
Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee!
Saying, “Asking grace of a graceles face —
 
Why there is none for you nor me.”

But Ionnë had a bright sword by his side,
  
45
 
And it was made of the mettle so free,
That had not the king stept his foot aside,
 
He had smitten his head from his faire boddë.

Saying, “Fight on, my merry men all,
 
And see that none of you be taine;
  
50
For rather then men shall say we were hange’d,
 
Let them report how we were slaine.”

Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,
 
And so besett poore Ionnë rounde,
That fowerscore and tenn of Ionnes best men
  
55
 
Lay gasping all upon the ground.

Then like a mad man Ionne laide about,
 
And like a mad man then fought hee,
Untill a falce Scot came Ionne behinde,
 
And runn him through the faire boddee.
  
60

Saying, “Fight on, my merry men all,
 
And see that none of you be taine;
For I will stand by and bleed but awhile,
 
And then will I come and fight againe.”

Newes then was brought to young Ionne Armestrong,
  
65
 
As he stood by his nurses knee,
Who vowed if ere he live’d for to be a man,
 
O the treacherous Scots revengd hee’d be.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

Captain Car

Traditional Ballads

IT befell at Martynmas,
 
When wether waxed colde,
Captaine Care said to his me
n,
 
We must go take a holde.

 
Syck, sike, and totowe sike,
  
5
  
And sike and like to die;
 
The sikest nighte that eu
er
I abode,
  
God lord haue mercy on me!

“Haille, m
aster,
and wether you will,
 
And wether ye like it best”;
  
10
“To the castle of Crecrynbroghe,
 
And there we will take
our
reste.”

“I knowe wher is a gay castle,
 
Is builded of lyme and stone;
Within their is a gay ladie,
  
15
 
Her lord is riden and gone.”

The ladie she lend on her castle-walle,
 
She loked vpp and downe;
There was she ware of an host of me
n,
 
Come riding to the towne.
  
20

“Se yow, my meri men all,
 
And se yow what I see?
Yonder I see a host of me
n,
 
I muse who they bee.”

She thought he had ben her wed lord,
  
25
 
As he comd riding home;
Then was it trait
ur
Captaine Care,
 
The lord of Ester-towne.

They wer no son
er
at supper sett,
 
Then after said the grace,
  
30
Or Captaine Care and all his men
 
Wer lighte aboute the place.

“Gyue ou
er
thi howsse, thou lady gay,
 
And I will make the a bande,
Tonighte thou shall ly w
i
t
hin
my arm
es,
  
35
 
Tomorrowe thou shall ere my lande.”

The
n
bespacke the eldest sonne,
 
That was both whitt and redde:
“O mother dere, geue ou
er
yo
ur
howsse,
 
Or ell
es
we shalbe deade.”
  
40

“I will not geue ou
er
my hous,” she saithe,
 
“Not for feare of my lyffe;
It shalbe talked throughout the land,
 
The slaughter of a wyffe.

“Fetch me my pestilett,
  
45
 
And charge me my gonne,
That I may shott at yonder bloddy butcher,
 
The lord of Easter-towne.”

Styfly vpon her wall she stode,
 
And lett the pellett
es
flee;
  
50
But then she myst the blody bucher,
 
And she slew other three.

“[I will] not geue ou
er
my hous,” she saithe,
 
“Netheir for lord nor lowne;
Nor yet for traito
ur
Captaine Care,
  
55
 
The lord of Easter-towne.

“I desire of Captaine Care,
 
And all his bloddye band,
That he would saue my eldest sonne,
 
The eare of all my lande.”
  
60

“Lap him in a shete,” he sayth,
 
“And let him downe to me,
And I shall take him in my armes,
 
His waran shall I be.”

The captayne sayd unto him selfe:
  
65
 
Wyth sped, before the rest,
He cut his tonge out of his head,
 
His hart out of his brest.

He lapt them in a handkerchef,
 
And knet it of knot
es
three,
  
70
And cast them ouer the castell-wall,
 
At that gay ladye.

“Fye vpon the, Captayne Care,
 
And all thy bloddy band!
For th
o
u hast slayne my eldest sonne,
  
75
 
The ayre of all my land.”

Then bespake the yongest sonne,
 
Th
a
t sat on the nurses knee,
Sayth, “Mother gay, geue ouer your house;
 
It smoldereth me.”
  
80

“I wold geue my gold,” she saith,
 
“And so I wolde my ffee,
For a blaste of the westryn wind,
 
To dryue the smoke from thee.

“Fy vpo
n
the, John Hamleton,
  
85
 
That euer I paid the hyre!
For th
o
u hast broken my castle-wall,
 
And kyndled in the ffyre.”

The lady gate to her close p
ar
ler,
 
The fire fell aboute her head;
  
90
She toke vp her childre
n
thre,
 
Set, “Bab
es,
we are all dead.”

Then bespake the hye steward,
 
Th
a
t is of hye degree;
Saith, “Ladie gay, you are in close,
  
95
 
Wether ye fighte or flee.”

Lord Hamleto
n
dremd in his dream,
 
In Caruall where he laye,
His halle were all of fyre,
 
His ladie slayne or daye.
  
100

“Busk and bowne, my mery me
n
all,
 
Eve
n
and go ye with me;
For I dremd th
a
t my haal was on fyre,
 
My lady slayne or day.”

He buskt him and bownd hym,
  
105
 
And like a worthi knighte;
And when he saw his hall burni
n
g,
 
His harte was no dele lighte.

He sett a tru
m
pett till his mouth,
 
He blew as it plesd his grace;
  
110
Twe
n
ty score of Ha
m
lentons
 
Was light aboute the place.

“Had I knowne as much yesternighte
 
As I do to-daye,
Captaine Care and all his me
n
  
115
 
Should not haue gone so quite.

“Fye vpon the, Captaine Care,
 
And all thy blody band
e!
Thou haste slayne my lady gay,
 
More w
u
rth the
n
all thy lande.
  
120

“If th
o
u had ought eny ill will,” he saith,
 
“Thou shoulde haue taken my lyffe,
And haue saved my children, thre,
 
All and my louesome wyffe.”

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order