A Lamentable BALLAD
Of Little Musgrove and the Lady
BARNET.
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AS it fell out on a high holiday,
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As many there be in a year;
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Musgrove he would to the church to pray,
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To see the ladies there.
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Gallants they were of good degree,
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For beauty exceeding fair;
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Most wonderous lovely to the eye,
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Which did to church repair.
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Some came down in red velvet,
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And some came down in pall;
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The next came down my Lady Barnet,
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The fairest amongst them all.
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She cast a look at Little Musgrove,
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As bright as the summers sun,
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Full right then perceivd Little Musgrove,
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Lady Barnets love he had won.
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The Lady Barnet meek and mild,
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Saluted Little Musgrove;
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Who did repay her courtesy
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With favor and gentle love.
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I have a bower in merry Barnet,
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Bestrewd with cowslips sweet,
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If that you please my little Musgrove,
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In love me there to meet.
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With[i]n my arms one night to lie,
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For you my love have won;
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You need not fear my suspicious Lord,
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For he from home is gone.
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Betide me life, betide me death,
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This night I will lie with thee;
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And for thy sake I will hazard my breath,
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So dear is my love to thee.
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What shall we do with this little foot page?
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Our council for to keep,
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And watch for fear Lord Barnet comes,
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While we together meet.
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Rich gold shall be his hire, said she,
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And silver shall be his fee;
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If he our council will but keep,
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That I may sleep with thee.
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I will have none of your gold, said he,
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Nor none of your silver fee;
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If I should keep your council madam,
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Twere great disloyalty.
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Ill not be false unto my Lord,
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For house, nor yet for land;
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But if my Lady proves untrue,
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Lord Barnet shall understand.
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Then swiftly ran this little foot-page,
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Unto his Lord with speed,
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He then was feasting with his friends,
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Not dreaming of that deed.
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Most speedily the page did haste,
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Most swiftly he did run;
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And when he came to the broken bridge
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He bent his breast and swam.
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The page did make no stay at all,
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But went to his Lord with speed;
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That he the truth might tell to him,
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Concerning this wicked deed.
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He found his Lord at supper then,
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Great metriment they did keep;
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My Lord said she, this night on my word,
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Musgrove with my Lady doth sleep.
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If this be true my little foot-page,
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And true which thou tellest to me;
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My eldest daughter I will thee give,
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And wedded thou shalt be.
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If this be a lie thou little foot-page,
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And a lie thou tellest me;
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A new gallows shall be set up,
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And hanged thou shalt be.
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If that be a lie, my Lord he said,
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And a lie which I tell unto thee,
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Never stay a new gallows to make,
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But hang me upon the next tree.
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Lord Barnet calld his merry men all,
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Away with speed he would go;
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His heart was sore perplexd with grief,
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The truth of this he must know.
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Saddle your horses with speed he said,
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And saddle my milk-white steed,
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If this be true as the page hath said,
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Musgrove shall repent the deed.
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He charged his men to make no noise,
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As they rode along the way;
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Wind no horn, quoth he for your life,
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Lest our coming you betray.
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But one of them that Musgrove did love,
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And respected his friendship dear;
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To give him notice Lord Barnet was come,
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Did wind his bugle horn clear.
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And evermore as he did sound,
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Away Musgrove, and away;
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For if he take you with his Lady,
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Thou shalt be slain to-day.
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O hark fair Lady, your Lord is near,
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I hear his little horn blow:
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And if he find me in your arms,
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Then hangd I shall be I know.
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O lie still, lie still, my Little Musgrove,
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And keep my back from the cold;
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I know it is my fathers shepherd,
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A driving sheep to fold.
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Musgrove did turn himself about,
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Sweet slumber his eyes did greet,
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And when he awoke there did he espy
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Lord Barnet at the beds feet.
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Rise up, rise up, thou little Musgrove,
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And put thy cloathing on;
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It neer shall be said in England fair,
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That I slew a naked man.
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Here are two swords Lord Barnet said,
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Musgrove thy choice now make,
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The best of them thyself shalt have,
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And I the worst shalt take.
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The first blow Musgrove did strike,
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He wounded Lord Baroet sore;
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The second blow Lord Barnet gave,
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Musgrove could strike no more.
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He took his Lady by the white hand,
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All love to rage convert;
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And with his sword in furious sort,
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He piercd her tender heart.
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A grave, a grave, Lord Barnet said,
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Prepare us to lie in;
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My Lady shall lie on the upper side,
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Because she has the better skin.
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Then suddenly he slew himself,
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Which grievd his friends full sore;
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The death of these three lovely Wights,
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With tears they did deplore.
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This sad mischief by lust was wrought,
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Then let us call for Grace:
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That we may shun such wicked deeds,
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And fly from sin apace.
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