For I tell thee certainly

That thou shalt dye for thy uncle's sake,
Wild William of Stanley.

If I shall dye, said the Lord Strange then,
As God forbid it shou'd so bee,

Alas! for my lady that is at home,
It should be long or she see me,
But we shall meet at doomsday,
When the great doom shall be.
He called for a gent in good fay,
Of Lancashire, both fair and free,
The name of him it was Lathum;

A ring of gould he took from his finger,
And threw it to the gent then,

And bad him bring it to Lancashire,
To his lady that was at home;
At her table she may sit right,
Or she see her lord it may be long,
I have no foot to fligh nor fight,

I must be murdered with the king:

If fortune my uncle Sir William Stanley loose the field, As God forbid it shou'd so bee,

Pray her to take my eldest son and child,

And exile him over behind the sea;

He may come in another time

By feild or fleet, by tower or towne,

Wreak so he may his father's death in fyne, Upon Richard of England that weareth the crown. A knight to King Richard then did appeare, The good Sir William of Harrington.

Let that lord have his life, my dear

Sir king, I pray you grant me this boone,
We shall have upon this field anon,

The father, the son, and the uncle all three;

Then shall you deem, lord, with your own mouth then,

What shall be the death of them all three.

Then a block was cast upon the ground,

Thereon the lord's head was laid,

A slave over his head can stand,

And thus that time to him thus said:
In faith there is no other booty tho',

But need that thou must be dead.

Harrington in hart was full woe,

When he saw that the lord must needs be dead.

He said, our ray breaketh on ev'ry side,

We put our feyld in jepordie.

He took up the lord that tyde,

King Richard after did him never see.
Then they blew up their bewgles of brass,
That made many a wife to ery alas!

And many a wive's child fatherlesse;
They shott of guns then very fast,

Over their heads they could them throw; Arrows flew them between,

As thick as any hayle or snowe,

As then that time might plaine be seene;
Then Rees ap Thomas with the black raven,

Shortly he brake their array;

Then with thirty thousand fighting men

The Lord Pearcy went his way;

The Duke of Northefolke wou'd have fledd with a good will,

With twenty thousand of his company;

They went up to a wind millne uppon a hill,

That stood soe fayre and wonderousse hye;

There he met Sir John Savage, a royall knight, And with him a worthy company;

To the death was he then dight,

And his sonne prisoner taken was he;

Then the Lord Alroes began for to flee,

And so did many other moe;

When King Richard that sight did see, In his heart hee was never soe woe:

I pray you my merry men, be not away,
For upon this field will I like a man dye,
For I had rather dye this day,

Then with the Standley prisoner to be.
A knight to King Richard can say there,
Good Sir William of Harrington;

He said, sir king, it hathe no peer,
Upon this feyld to death to be done,

For there may no man these dints abide; Low, your horse is ready at your hand;

Sett the crown upon my head that tyde, Give me my battle axe in my hand;

I make a vow to myld Mary that is so bright,

I will dye the king of merry England.

Besides his head they hewed the crown down right,

That after he was not able to stand;

They dinge him downe as they were woode,

They beat his bassnet to his heade,

Until the braynes came out with the bloode;

They never left him till he was dead.

Then carryed they him to Leicester,

Bessye mett him with a merry cheare,
And with these words she did him greete;
How like you the killing of my brethren dear?
Welcome, gentle uncle, home!

Great solace ytt was to see and hear,
When the battell yt was all done;

I tell you, masters, without lett,
When the Red Rosse soe fair of hew,
And young Bessye together mett,
It was great joy I say to you.

A bishopp them marryed with a ringe
The two bloods of great renowne.
Bessy said, now may we singe,
Wee two bloods are made all one.

The Earle of Darby hee was there,
And Sir William Stanley, that noble knight,
Upon their heads he set the crown so fair,
That was made of gould so bright.

And there he came under a cloud,

That some time in England looked full high;
But then the hart he lost his head,

That after no man cou'd him see.

But Jesus, that is both bright and shine,
And born was of myld Mary,

Save and keepe our noble kinge,
And also the poore commentie

Amen.

169

11:003 DL.

King Estmere.

This old romantic legend' is taken from Percy's Reliques,' where it was given from two copies, one of them in the Editor's Folio MS., but which contained very great variations.' In an old book, entitled, The Complaynt of Scotland,'-'one of the earliest productions of the Scottish Press now to be found, supposed to have been printed about 1540'-an ancient romance is mentioned, under the title, 'How the King of Estmureland married the King's daughter of Westmureland,' which Sir Walter Scott suggested might possibly have been 'the original of the beautiful legend of King Estmere." Be this as it may, the legend itself 'bears marks,' as Bishop Percy says, 'of great antiquity.' In his opinion it would seem to have been written while a great part of Spain was in the hands of the Saracens or Moors: whose empire there was not fully extinguished before the year 1491. The Mahometans are spoken of in v. 49, &c., just in the same terms as in all other old romances."]

EARKEN to me, gentlemen,
Come and you shall heare;
Ile tell you of two of the boldest
brethren,

That ever born y-were.

The tone of them was Adler yonge,
The tother was kyng Estmere;
The were as bolde men in their deedes,
As any were farr and neare.

As they were drinking ale and wine
Within kyng Estmeres halle:
When will ye marry a wyfe, brother,
A wyfe to gladd us all?

Then bespake him kyng Estmere,
And answered him hastilee:
I knowe not that ladye in any lande,
That is able to marry with mee.

Kyng Adland hath a daughter, brother,
Men call her bright and sheene;
If I were kynge here in your stead,
That ladye shold be queene.

Sayes, Reade me, reade me, deare brother,
Throughout merry England,

Where we might find a messenger
Betweene us two to sende.

Sayes, You shall ryde yourselfe, brother,
Ile beare you companèe;

Many throughe fals messengers are deceived,
And I feare lest soe shold wee.

Thus the renisht them to ryde

Of twoe good renisht steedes,

And when they came to kyng Adlands halle, Of red golde shone their weedes.

And when the came to kyng Adlands halle
Before the goodlye yate,

Ther they found good kyng Adlànd
Rearing himselfe theratt.

Nowe Christ thee save, good kyng Adland;
Nowe Christ thee save and see.

Sayd, You be welcome, kyng Estmere,
Right hartilye to mee.

You have a daughter, sayd Adler yonge,
Men call her bright and sheene,

My brother woid marrye her to his wiffe,
Of Englande to be queene.