EBBA 32089
Huntington Library - Britwell
Ballad XSLT Template
A new balade of the worthy service of late
doen by Maister Strangwige in Fraunce, and of his death.
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ENgland hath lost a Soldiour of late
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Who Strangwige was to name:
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Although he was of meane estate
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His deedes deserved fame.
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For as the Plowman plowes the ground
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And toyleth to til for corne:
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So Strangwige sought a deadly wound
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For Brittaine where he was borne.
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In deede of birth he was borne bace
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Although of worshipful kyn:
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In youth he sought to runne the race
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Where he might prowes wyn.
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In his yong yeares he walked wyde
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And wandred oft a stray:
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For why, blynd Cupid did him guyde
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To walke that wyldsome way.
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Thus here & there I wot not where
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He sounded where to ryde:
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But happy haven he found no where
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Nor harbour for to abyde.
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But when he had the course out run
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Where Pyrates prict the Carde:
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Twyse at the least, he thought undone
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And looked for his rewarde.
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For by legall lawes he was condemd
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Yet Mercy bare the mace
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And in respect he wold amend
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He found a Princes grace.
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And in that state he vowed to GOD
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And to his righteous Queene:
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He wold no more deserve such rod
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Nor at Justice barre be seene.
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He thus contented for a whyle
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And laughed Fortune to scorne:
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Tyl weeds did worke by subtil guyle
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To overgrow the corne.
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And then occasion served just
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That Martiall men must trudge:
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He vaunced himselfe with valiaunt lust
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To go he did not grudge.
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And to the sea he sought a charge
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Where he might take his chaunce:
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And there with spred his sayles at large
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To seke a porte in Fraunce.
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And passed by a warlyke towne
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Where municion lay a land
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He spoyld and cut their chaynes a down
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And passed by strong hand.
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Where as he caught a deadly wound
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Yet his courage never quayled:
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But as he had ben safe and sound
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On his way forth he sayled.
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And passed through even to that porte
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Where he vowed to aryve:
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And styl he did his men coumfort
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And courage did them geve.
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Then ATROPOS did him assayle
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That al Adams kynd doth call:
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Against whose force may none prevayle
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But subject to him all.
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This life (quod he) which was me lent
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From judgement seat in perrill:
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I came with heart for that entent
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To spend in my Queenes quarell.
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Therfore this debt here wil I pay
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This life which is not mine:
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O Lord receyve my spirit to joy
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That by Christes death is thine.
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All Subjects now, loke and foresee
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That to trade the warres pretend:
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Offendours eke (if any there bee)
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Make ye no worse an end.
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FINIS. W. Birch.
Imprinted at London by Alexander
Lacy for William Owen, and are
to be sold at the little shop at
the north dore of
Poules.
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