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