A pleasant new ballad, shewing how Sir Iohn Armstrong and Nathaniel Musgrave fell in Love with the Lady Dacres Daughter of the North; and of the strife that was between them for her, and how they wrought the Death of one hundred men.
To a new Northern Tune.
AS it fell out one
Whitsunday,
the blith time of the year,
When chery tree was clad with gréen,
and pretty Birds sing clear;
The
Lady Dacres took her way,
Vnto the Church that pleasant day,
With her fair daughter fresh and gay,
a bright and bonny Lasse:
Fa la tre dang de do;
trang trole lo trang de do,
With hey trang trole lo lye,
she was a bonny Lass.
Sir
Michael Musgrave in like sort,
to Church repaired then,
And so did sir
John Armstrong too,
with all his merry men,
Two greater friends there could not be
Nor braver Knights for Chivalry,
Both Batchelors of high degree,
fit for a bonny Lasse.
They sat them down upon one seat,
like loving brethren dear,
With hearts and minds devoutly bent
Gods service for to hear:
But rising from their Prayers tho,
Their eyes a ranging streight did go,
Which wrought their utter overthrow
all for one bonny Lasse.
Qd.
Musgrave unto
Armstrong then,
yon sits the swéetest Dame,
That ever for her fair beauty,
within this Country came.
Insooth quoth
Armstrong presently,
Your judgement I must verefie,
There never came unto my eye
a braver bonny Lasse.
I swear said
Musgrave by this sword,
which did my Knight-hood win,
To steal away so swéet a Dame,
could be no ghostly sin:
That déed qd.
Armstrong would be ill,
Except he had her right good will,
That your desire she would fulfill,
and be thy bonny Lasse.
By this the service quite was done,
and home the people past,
They wisht a blister on his tongue,
that made thereof such hast.
At the Church door y
e knights did méet,
The Lady
Dacres for to greet.
But most of all her daughter sweet,
that beauteous bonny Lasse.
Said
Armstrong to the Lady fair:
we both have made a vow,
At dinner for to be your Guests,
if you will it allow.
With that bespake that Lady free,
Sir Knights right welcom shall you be
The happier men therefore are we,
for Love of this bonny Lasse.
Thus was y
e knights both prickt in love
both in one moment thrall'd,
And both with one fair Lady gay
thus blind in
Cupid call'd.
With humble thanks they went away
Like wounded Harts chast all the day:
One would not to the other say,
they lov'd this bonny Lasse.
Fair
Isabel on the other side,
as far in love was found,
So long brave
Armstrong she had ey'd,
till love her heart did wound;
Brave
Armstrong is my joy, quoth she
Would Chrift he were alone with me;
To talk an hour two or three,
with his fair bonny Lasse.
BVt as these knights together rode
and homeward did repair,
Their talk and eke their countenance shewd
their hearts were clog'd with care,
Fair
Isabel the one did say,
Thou hast subdu'd my heart this day;
But she's my joy did
Musgrove say,
my bright and bonny Lasse.
With that these friends incontinent,
became most deadly foes,
For love of beautious
Isabel,
great strife betwixt them rose;
Quoth
Armstrong she shall be my wife,
Although for her I lose my life,
And thus began a deadly strife,
and for one bonny Lasse.
Thus two years long this grudge did grow
these gallant Knights betwéen,
While they a wooing both did go,
unto this beautious Quéen.
And she who did their furies prove,
To neither would bewray her love,
The deadly quarrel to remove,
about this bonny Lasse.
But neither of her fair intreats,
nor yet her sharp dispute:
Would they appease their raging ire,
nor yet give ore their suit.
The Gentlemen of the
North country
At last did make this good decrée,
All for a perfert unity,
about this bonny Lasse.
The love sick knights should both be set
within one hall so wide,
Each of them in a gallant sort,
even at a several tide.
And twixt them both for certainty,
Fair
Isabel should placed be,
Of them to take her choice full frée,
most like a bonny Lasse.
And as she like an Angel bright,
betwixt them mildly stood,
She turned unto each several Knight,
with pale and changed blood.
Now am I at Liberty,
To make and take my choice, quoth she
Yea, quoth the Knights we do agrée,
then chuse thou bonny Lasse.
O
Musgrave thou art all too hot:
to be a Ladies Love,
Quoth she and
Armstrong séems a sot,
where Love binds him to prove;
Of courage great is
Musgrave still,
And sith to chuse I have my Will,
Sweet
Armstrong shall my joys fulfill
and I his bonny Lasse.
The Nobles and the Gentiles both,
that were in present place,
Rejoyced at this sweet record,
but
Musgrave in disgrace,
Out of the Hall did take his way,
And
Armstrong married was next day
With
Isabel his Lady gay,
a bright and bonny Lasse.
But
Musgrave on the wedding day,
like to a
Scotch-man dight,
In secret sort allured out,
the Bridegroom for to fight,
And he that will not out-brav'd be,
Vnto his challenge did agree,
Where he was slain most suddenly,
for his fair bonny Lasse.
The news hereof was quickly brought,
unto the Lovely Bride;
And many of young
Armstrongs kin,
did after
Musgrave ride.
They hew'd him when they had him got
As small as flesh into the pot,
Lo thus befel a heavy Lot,
about this bonny Lasse.
The Lady young which did lament
this cruel cursed strife,
For very grief died that day,
a Maiden and a Wife:
An hundred men that hapless day,
Did loose their Lives in that same fray
And 'twixt those names as many say,
is deadly hate still biding.
FINIS.
Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, and J. Wright.