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EBBA 33333

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
An excellent Ballad of a Prince of Englands Courtship to the
King of Frances Daughter, and how the Prince was disasterously slain; and how the afore-
said Princess was afterwards married to a Forrester.
To the Tune of, Crimson Velvet, etc.

IN the Days of Old
when fair France did flourish,
Stories plainly told,
Lovers it annoy;
The King a Daughter had,
beauteous, fair, and lovely,
Which made her father glad,
she was his only Joy:
A Prince of England came,
Whose Deeds did merit fame,
he woo'd her long, and loe at last,
And what he did require,
She granted his desire,
their hearts in one were linked fast.
Which when her father proved,
Lord how he was moved,
and tormented in his mind,
He sought for to prevent them,
And to discontent them,
Fortune crossed Lovers kind.

When these Princes twain,
were thus bar'd of pleasure.
Through the Kings Disdain,
which their joys withstood,
The Lady lockt up close,
her jewels and her treasure,
Having no remorse
of State and Royal blood:
In homely poor array,
She went from Court away,
to meet her love and hearts delight:
Who in a Forrest great,
Had taken up his seat,
to wait her coming in the night:
But loe what sudden Danger,
To this Princely Stranger
chanced as he sat alone;
By Out-laws he was robbed,
And with Poniard stabbed,
uttering many a dying Groan.

The Princess armed by him,
and by true Desire,
Wandring all that night,
without dread at all;
Still unknown she past,
in her strange attire,
Coming at the last,
within Eccho's call;
You fair wood quoth she,
Honoured may you be,
harbouring my hearts delight,
Which doth incompass here,
My Joy and only Dear,
my trusty friend & comely Knight;
Sweet I come unto thee,
Sweet I come to woo thee,
that thou maist not angry be,
For my long delaying,
And thy courteous staying,
amends for all I'll make to thee.

Passing thus alone,
through the silent Forrest,
Many a grievous groan
sounded in her ear,
Where she heard a man
to lament the sorest
Chance that ever came,
forc'd by Deadly strife:
Farewel (my Dear) quoth he,
Whom I shall never see,
for why my life is at an end;
For thy sweet sake I dye,
Thro' Villains cruelty,
to show I am a faithful friend;
Here lie a bleeding,
While my thoughts are feeding
on the rarest beauty found:
O hard hap that may be,
Little knows my Lady
my heart blood lies on the ground.

With that he gave a Groan
that did break asunder,
All the tender strings
of his gentle heart:
She who knew his voice,
at his tale did wonder,
All her former joys
did to grief convert,
Straight she ran to see
who this Man should be,
That so like her love did speak,
and found when as she came,
Her lovely Lord lay slain,
smear'd in blood which life did break;
Which when that she espyed,
Lord how sore she cried,
her sorrows could not counted be,
Her eyes like fountains running,
While she cry'd out, My Darling,
would God that I had dy'd for thee.

His pale lips; alas,
twenty times she kissed,
And his face did wash
with her brinish tears;
Evry bleeding wound
her fair face bedewed,
Wiping off the blood
with her golden hair:
Speak my Lord (quoth she)
Speak fair Prince to me
one sweet word of comfort give;
Lift up thy fair eyes,
Listen to my cries,
think in what great grief I live;
All in vain she sued,
All in vain she wooed,
the Prince's life was fled & gone:
There stood she still mourning,
Till the Suns approaching,
& bright day was coming on.

In this great Distress,
quoth this Royal Lady,
Who can now express
what will become of me?
To my Fathers Court
never will I wander,
But some service seek,
where I may placed be.
Whilst she thus made her moan,
Weeping all alone,
in this deep & deadly fear,
A Forrester all in green,
Most comely to be seen,
ranging the wood did find her there,
Round beset with sorrow,
Maid (quoth he) good morrow,
what hard hap hath brought ye here
Harder hap did never
Chance to a Maiden ever,
here lies slain my Brother dear.

Where might I be plac'd,
gentle Forrester tell me;
Where might I procure
a service in my need?
Pains will I not spare,
but would do my duty,
Ease me of my care,
help my extream need.
The Forrester all amazed;
On her beauty gazed
till his heart was set on fire:
If fair maid (quoth he)
You will go with me,
you shall have your hearts desire.
He brought her to his mother,
And above all other
he set forth this maidens praise;
Long was his heart inflamed,
At length her love he gained,
so fortune did his glory raise.

Thus unknown he matcht
with the Kings fair Daughter,
Children seven he had,
e'er she to him was known:
But when he understood
she was a Royal Princess,
By this means at last
he shews forth her fame:
He cloathed his children then,
Not like to other men,

in partly colours strange to see,
The right side cloth of gold,
The left side to behold
of woollen cloth still framed he:
Men thereat did wonder;
Golden Fame did thunder
this strange Deed in every place:
The King of France came thither,
Being pleasant weather
in these woods the hart to chase.

The Children there did stand
as their mother willed,
Where the Royal King
must of force come by.
Their mother richly clad
in fair Crimson Velvet,
Their faither all in gray,
most comely to the eye,
When this famous king,
Noting everything,
did ask how he durst be so bold,
To let his wife to wear,
And deck his Children there,
in costly Robes of pearl & gold.
The Forrester bold replyed,
And the cause Descried;
& to the king he thus did say:
Well may they by their mother,
Wear rich cloaths with other,
being by birth a Princess gay.

The king upon these words
more heedfully beheld them,
Till a crimson blush
his conceit did cross:
The more I look (quoth he)
upon thy wife and children,
The more I call to mind
my daughter whom I lost.
I am that child (quoth she)
Falling on her knee,
pardon me my Soveraign Liege,
The king perceiving this,
His Daughter dear did kiss,
till joyful tears did stop his speech
With his train he turned,
And with her sojourned,
straight he dub'd her husband knight,
He made him Earl of Flanders,
One of his chief Commanders;
thus was their sorrow put to flight.


Licensed and Entered according to Order.
Printed by and for A.M. and sold by the Booksellers of London.

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