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EBBA 33307

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
A Lamentable Ballad of the Tragical end of a Gallant Lord and a Vertuous Lady, with the untimely end of their
two Children, wickedly performed by a Heathenish Blackamoor their servant: the like never heard of.
The Tune is, The Ladys Fall.

IN Rome a Noble man did wed,
a Virgin of great fame.
A fairer creature never did
dame nature ever frame;
By whom he had two Children fair,
whose beauty did excel:
They were their parents only joy,
they loved them both so well.

The Lord he loved to hunt the buck,
the tyger and the boar:
And still for swiftness always took
with him a Blackamoor:
Which Blackamoor within the wood,
his Lord he did offend,
For which he did him then correct,
in hopes he would amend.

The day it grew unto an end,
then homewards he did haste,
Where with his Lady he did rest,
until the night was past:
Then in the morning he did rise,
and did his servants call;
A hunting he provides to go,
straight they were ready all.

To Cause the toil the Lady did
intreat him not to go;
Alas good Lady, then quoth he,
why art thou grieved so?
Content thyself I will return
with speed to thee again:

Good Father (quoth the little Babes)
with us here still remain.

Farewel dear children, I will go
a fine thing for to buy:
But they therewith nothing content,
aloud began to cry:
The Mother takes them by the hand,
saying, come go with me
Unto the highest Tower, where
your Father you shall see.

The Blackamoor perceiving now
(who then did stay behind)
His Lord to be a Hunting gone,
began to call to mind:
My Master he did me correct,
my fault not being great:
Now of his wife i'le be reveng'd,
she shall not me intreat.

The place was moted round about,
the bridge he up did draw;
The gates he bolted very fast,
of none he stood in awe:
He up into the Tower went,
the Lady being there:
Who when she saw his countenance grim
she straight began to fear.

But now my trembling heart it quakes
to think what I must write;
My senses all begin to fail,
my soul it doth affright:

Yet I must make an end of this
which here I have begun,
Which will make sad the hardest heart,
before that I have done.

This wretch unto the Lady went,
and her with speed did will,
His lust forthwith to satisfie,
his mind for to fulfill:
The Lady she amazed was,
to hear the Villain speak,
Alas (quoth she) what shall I do?
with grief my heart will break.

With that he took her in his arms,
she straight for help did cry:
Content yourself Lady (she said)
your Husband is not nigh.
The bridge is drawn, the gates are shut,
therefore come lie with me,
Or else I do protest and vow
thy Butcher I will be.

The Chrystal tears ran down her face,
her children cryed amain,
And sought to help their Mother dear,
but all it was in vain:
For that outragious filthy Rogue,
her hands behind her bound,
And then perforce with all his might,
he threw her on the ground.

With that she shriekt, her children cry'd
and such a noise did make,
That towns-folks, hearing her lament
did seek their parts to take:
But all in vain no way was found
to help the Ladies need:
Who cried to them most piteously,
oh help, oh help with speed.

Some run into the Forrest wide,
her Lord home for to call,
And they that stood still did lament
this gallant Ladies fall.
With speed her love came posting home
he could not enter in,
His Ladies cries did pierce his heart,
to call he did begin.

O hold thy hand thou savage Moor,
to hurt her do forbear,
Or else be sure if I do live,
wild Horses shall thee tare:
With that the Rogue ran to the wall,
he having had his will,
And brought one child under his arm
his dearest blood to spill.

The Child seeing his Father there,
to him for help did call:
O Father help my Mother dear,
we shall be killed all:
Then fell the Lord upon his knee,
and did the Moor intreat,
To save the life of his poor child.
whose fear as then was great.

But this vile wretch the little Child
by both the heels did take,
And dasht his brains against the wall,
whilst Parents hearts did ake:
That being done straightway he ran
the other child to fetch,
And pluckt it from the Mothers breast
most like a cruel wretch.

Within one hand a knife he brought,
the Child within the other;
And holding it over the wall,
saying, thus dye shall thy mother:
With that he cut the throat of it,
then to the Father he did call:
To look how he the head had cut,
and down the head did fall.

This done he threw it down the wall,
into the Mote so deep,
which made the Father wring his hands
and grievously to weep.
Then to the lady went this Rogue,
who was near dead with fear:
Yet this vile wretch most cruelly
did drag her by the hair.

And drew her to the very wall,
which when the Lord did see,
Then presently he cryed out,
and fell upon his knee:
Quoth he, If thou wilt save her life,
whom I do love so dear:
I will forgive thee all is past,
though they concern me near.

O save her life I thee beseech,
O save her I thee pray,
And I will grant thee what thou wilt
demand of me this day:
Well, quoth the Moor, I do regard
the moan that thou dost make:
If thou wilt grant me what I ask,
i'll save her for thy sake.

O save her life and then demand
of me what thing thou wilt:
Cut off thy Nose, and not one drop
of her blood shall be spilt:
With that the Lord presently took
a knife within his hand;
And then his Nose he quite cut off,
in place where he did stand.

Now I have bought the Ladys life,
then to the Moor did call:
Then take her, quod this wicked rogue,
and down he let her fall:
Which when her gallant Lord did see,
his senses all did fail:
Yet many sought to save his life
yet nothing could prevail.

When as the Moor did see him dead,
then did he laugh amain
At them who for their gallant Lord
and Lady did complain:
Quoth he, I know you'll torture me,
if that you can me get,
But all your threats I do not fear,
nor yet regard one whit.

Wild Horses shall my body tear,
I know it to be true,
But I'll prevent you of that pain,
and down himself he threw:
too good a death for such a wretch,
a Villain void of fear,
And thus doth end as sad a tale,
as ever man did hear.


Printed by and for A. Milbourn, and
sold by the Booksellers of London.

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