A Pretty Ballad of the Lord of Lorn, and the false Steward. The Tune is, Green Sleeves
|
IT was a worthy Lord of Lorn,
|
a Lord of high degree,
|
He sent his Son unto the School,
|
to learn Civility.
|
He Learned more in one Day,
|
than other Children did in Three,
|
And then bespake the School-Master
|
unto him tenderly:
|
In Faith thou art the honestest Boy
|
that ere I lookd on with my Eye,
|
I hope thou art some Easterling Born,
|
the Holy Ghost is within thee.
|
He said he was no Easterling born,
|
the Child thus answered courteously,
|
My Father is the Lord of Lorn,
|
and I his Son perdye.
|
The School-Master turned round about,
|
his angry Mood then he did swage:
|
He marvelled the Child could speak so wise,
|
he being of so tender an Age.
|
He girded the Saddle to the Steed,
|
the Bridle of the best Gold shone,
|
He took his leave of his Fellows all,
|
and quickly he was gone.
|
And when he came to his Father dear,
|
he kneeled down upon his Knee,
|
Im come to you, Father, he said,
|
Gods Blessing give you me.
|
Thou art welcome my Son, he said,
|
Gods Blessing I give thee;
|
What Tydings hast thou brought my Son,
|
being come so hastily?
|
Ive brought Tydings, Father, he said,
|
if that well liked it may be,
|
Theres neer a Book in all Scotland,
|
but I can read it truly.
|
And theres ner a Doctor in all the Realm,
|
for all he goes in rich array,
|
I can write him a Letter soon,
|
to learn in seven Years Day.
|
That is good Tydings, said the Lord,
|
all in the place where I do stand.
|
My Son, thou shalt to France go,
|
to learn the Speeches of that Land.
|
Who shall go with him, said the Lady
|
husband we have none but he,
|
Madam, said he, my head Steward,
|
he hath been ever true to me.
|
She called the Steward to an account,
|
a thousand Pounds she gave him anon,
|
Says, good Steward be good to my Child,
|
when he is far from home.
|
If I be false to my young Lord,
|
then God be like to me indeed;
|
And now to France they both are gone,
|
and God be their good speed.
|
They had not been in Frances Land
|
not three Weeks to an end,
|
But Meat and Drink the Child got none,
|
nor Money in his Purse to spend.
|
The Child runs to the River side,
|
he was fain to drink Water then,
|
And after followed the false Steward,
|
to put the Child therein:
|
But nay marry said the Child,
|
he asked mercy pitifully,
|
Good Steward let me have my Life,
|
what eer betide my Body.
|
Now put off thy fair Cloathing,
|
and give it unto me anon,
|
So put thee off thy Silken Shirt,
|
with many a Golden Seam.
|
But when the Child was stript naked,
|
his Body, white as the Lilly Flower,
|
He might have been seen for his Body,
|
a Princess Paramour.
|
He put him on an old kelter Coat,
|
and Hose of the same above the Knee,
|
He bid him go to the Shepherds House,
|
and keep Sheep on a love lovely
|
The Child said what shall be my Name,
|
good Steward tell to me,
|
Thy Name shall be, Poor dost thou wear,
|
that thy Name shall be.
|
The Child came to the Shepheards House,
|
and asked mercy piteously,
|
Says, good Shepherd take me in,
|
to keep your Sheep on a love lovely.
|
But when the Shepherd saw the Child,
|
he was so pleasant to the Eye,
|
I have no Child, Ill make thee my Heir,
|
thou shalt have my Goods perdye,
|
And then bespake the Shepherds Wife,
|
unto the Child so tenderly,
|
Thou must take the Sheep, and to the Field,
|
and get them on a love lovely.
|
Now let us leave talking of the Child,
|
that is keeping of Sheep on a love lovely,
|
And well talk more of the false Steward
|
and of his false treachery,
|
He bought himself three suits of Apparel,
|
that any Lord might seem to worn,
|
He went a wooing to the Dukes Daughter,
|
and called himself the Lord of Lorn.
|
The Duke he welcomes the young Lord,
|
with three baked Stags anon,
|
If he had wist him the false Steward,
|
to the Devil he should have gone:
|
But when they were at Supper sate,
|
with dainty delicates that were there,
|
The Duke said, if thou wilt wed my Daughter,
|
Ile give thee a thousand Pound a year.
|
The Lady would see the Red Buck run
|
and also for to hunt the Doe,
|
And with an hundred lusty Men,
|
the Lady did a hunting go,
|
The Lady is a hunting gone,
|
over Eeansel that is so high,
|
There was she aware of a Shepherds Boy,
|
with Sheep on a love lovely:
|
And often he sighd and made great moan,
|
and cryed out piteously:
|
My Father is the Lord of Lorn,
|
and knows not whats become of me
|
And then bespake the Lady gay,
|
and to her Maid she spake anon.
|
O fetch me hither the Shepherds Boy,
|
why maketh he all this moan?
|
But when he came before the Lady,
|
he was not to learn his Courtesie.
|
Where wast thou born thou bonny Child,
|
for whose sake makst thou all this moan?
|
My dearest Friend Lady, he said,
|
is dead many Years agon.
|
Tell thou to me thou bonny Child,
|
tell me truth and dont lye,
|
Knowst thou not the young Lord of Lorn,
|
he is come a Wooing unto me?
|
Yes forsooth, said the Child,
|
I know the Lord then verily:
|
The young Lord is a valiant Lord,
|
at home in his own Country.
|
Wilt leave thy Sheep thou bonny Child,
|
and come in Service unto me?
|
Yes forsooth, then said the Child,
|
at your bidding will I be.
|
When the Steward lookt upon the Child,
|
he bewaild him Villanously,
|
Where wast thou born thou Vagabond,
|
or where is thy Country?
|
Ha down, ha down, said the Lady,
|
she calld the Steward then presently,
|
Without you bear him more Good-will,
|
you get no love of me:
|
Then bespake the false Steward,
|
unto the Lady hastily:
|
At Aberdine beyond the Seas,
|
his Father robbed thousands three.
|
But then bespake the Lady gay,
|
unto her Father courteously,
|
Saying I have found a bonny Child,
|
my Chamberlain to be:
|
Not so, not so, then said the Duke,
|
for so it may not be,
|
For that young Lord of Lord that comes,
|
will think no good of thee and me.
|
When the Duke had lookt upon the Child,
|
he seemd so pleasant to the Eye:
|
Child, because thou lovest Horses well,
|
my Groom of Stable thou shalt be.
|
The Child plyed the Horses well,
|
a Twelve-month to an end,
|
He was so courteous and so true,
|
every Man becomes his Friend:
|
He led a fair Gelding to the Water,
|
where he may drink Water verily,
|
The Gelding up with his Head,
|
and hit the Child above the Eye:
|
Wo worth the Horse then said the Child,
|
that ever Mare foled thee,
|
Thou little knowst what thou hast done,
|
thou hast stricken a Lord of High degree.
|
The Dukes Daughter was in her Garden Green,
|
she heard the Child make great moan,
|
She ran to the Child all weeping,
|
and left her Maidens all alone.
|
Sing on thy Song thou bonny Child,
|
I will release thee of thy Pain,
|
I have made an Oath Lady, he said,
|
I dare not tell my Tale again:
|
Tell the Horse thy Tale thou bonny Child,
|
and so thy Oath shall saved be;
|
But when he told the Horse his Tale,
|
the Lady wept most tenderly.
|
Ile do for thee my bonny Child,
|
in faith I will do more for thee,
|
And for thy sake thou bonny Child,
|
Ile put my Wedding off Months three,
|
The Lady did write a Letter then,
|
full pitiful with her own Hand:
|
She sent it to the Lord of Lorn,
|
whereas he dwelt in fair Scotland.
|
But when the Lord did read the Letter,
|
his Lady wept most tenderly,
|
I knew what would become of my Child,
|
in such a far Country:
|
The old Lord calld up his merry Men,
|
and all that he gave Cloth and Fee;
|
With seven Lords by his side,
|
and into France rides he:
|
The Wind servd, and they did Sail,
|
so far into France Land:
|
They were aware of the Lord of Lorn,
|
with a Porters Staff in his Hand:
|
The Lords they moved Hat and Hand,
|
the Serving-Men fell on their Knees,
|
What Folks be yonder said the Steward,
|
that makes the Porters courtesie?
|
Thou art a false Thief, quoth the Lord of Lorn,
|
no longer might I bear with thee;
|
By the Law of France thou shalt be judgd,
|
whether it be to live or dye.
|
A Quest of Lords there chosen was,
|
to Bench they came hastily,
|
But when the Quest was ended,
|
false Steward must Dye.
|
First they did him half hang,
|
and then they took him down anon,
|
And then put him in boyling Lead:
|
and then was sodden Breast and Bone.
|
And then bespake the Lord of Lorn,
|
with many Lords more:
|
Sir Duke if you be as willing as we,
|
well have a Marriage before you go,
|
These Children both they did rejoice,
|
to hear the Lord his Tale so ended:
|
They had rather to Day then to Morrow,
|
so we would not be offended.
|
But when the Wedding ended was,
|
there was delicate dainty chear,
|
Ile tell you how long the Wedding did last,
|
full three Quarters of a Year.
|
Such a Banquet there was wrought,
|
the like was never seen;
|
The King of France brought with him then,
|
a hundred Tun of good Wine.
|
Five set of Musicians were to be seen,
|
that never rested Night nor Day:
|
Also Italians there did Sing
|
full pleasantly with great joy.
|
Thus have you heard what trouble great,
|
unto successive joys did turn,
|
And happy News amongst the rest,
|
unto the worthy Lord of Lorn.
|
Let Rebels therefore warned be,
|
mischief once they do pretend.
|
For God may suffer for a time,
|
but will disclose it in the end.
|
|
|
|
|
|