A LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF
FAIR ROSAMOND,
Concubine to Henry 2nd.
Who was put to death by Queen Eleanor, in the famous Bower of Wood-
stock, near Oxford.
To the Tune of Flying Fame.
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WHEN as King Henry rul'd the land,
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The second of the name;
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Besides the Queen he dearly lov'd,
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A fair and comely dame;
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Most peerless was her beauty found,
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Her favours and her face,
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A sweeter creature in this world,
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Could never Prince embrace.
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Her pretty locks like threads of gold,
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Appear'd to each man's sight,
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Her comely eyes, like orient pearls,
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Did cast a glorirous light;
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The blood within her crystal cheeks,
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Did such a colour drive,
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As if the lilly and the rose,
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For mastership did strive.
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Fair Rosamond, fair Rosamond,
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Her name was call'd so,
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To whom dame Eleanor our queen,
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Was known a deadly foe;
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The king therefore for her defence;
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Against the furious queen,
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At Woodstock built a pretty bow'r,
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The like was never seen.
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Most curiously that bow'r was built;
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Of stone and timber strong,
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An hundred and fifty doors,
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Did to this bow'r belong;
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And they so cunningly contriv'd,
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With turnings round about.
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That none but with a clue of thread;
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Could enter in and out.
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And for his love and lady's sake,
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That was so fair and bright,
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The keeping of this bow'r he gave,
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Unto a gallant knight;
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But fortune that doth often frown;
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Where it before did smile,
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The king's delight the lady's joy,
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Full soon she did beguile.
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For the king's most ungracious son,
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Whom he did high advance,
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Against his father waged war;
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Within the realms of France.
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But yet before our comely king,
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The English had forsook,
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Of Rosomond his lady fair.
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His farewel thus he took.
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My Rosamond my only rose,
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That pleaseth best my eye,
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The fairest flow'r in all the world,
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To delight my fancy,
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The flow'r of my affected heart,
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Whose sweetness doth excel,
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My royal rose a thousand times,
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I bid thee now farewel.
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For I must leave my fairest flow'r,
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My sweetest rose a space,
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And cross the seas to famous France,
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Proud rebels to abase.
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But yet my rose besure thou shall,
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My coming shortly see,
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And in my heart when hence I am,
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I'll bear my rose with me.
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When Rosamond, that lady bright,
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Did hear that king say so,
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The sorrow of her grieved heart,
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Her outward looks did shew,
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And from her clear and crystal eyes,
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The tears gush'd out a-pace,
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Which like the silver pearled dew,
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Ran down her comely face.
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Her lips like to the coral red,
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Did wax both wan and pale,
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And for the sorrow she conceiv'd,
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Her vital spirits did fail.
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And falling down all in a swoon,
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Before King Henry's face,
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Full often within his princely arms,
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Her body did embrace.
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And twenty times with watery eyes,
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He kiss'd her tender cheek;
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Until he had reviv'd again,
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Her senses mild and meek;
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Why grieves my sweetest rose?
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The king would often say,
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Because, quoth she, to bloody wars,
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My lord must pass away;
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But since your grace in foreign parts
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Among your foes unkind,
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Must go to hazard life and limb,
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Why should I stay behind?
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Nay, farther, let me like a page,
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Thy sword and target bear,
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That on my breast thy blows may light,
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That would offend you there.
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O let me in your royal tent,
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Prepare your bed at night,
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And sweet baths refresh you,
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At your return from fight;
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So I your presence may enjoy,
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No toil I will refuse,
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But wanting you my life is death,
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Which doth true love abuse.
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Content thyself my dear, quoth he,
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Thy rest at home shall be,
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In England's sweet and pleasant soil,
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For travel fits not thee;
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Fair ladies brook no bloody wars,
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Sweet peace their pleasure breed,
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The nourisher of heart's content,
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Which fancy first did feed.
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My rose shall rest in Woodstock bow'r,
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With music's sweet delight,
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Whilst I among the piercing pikes,
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Against my foes do fight,
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My rose in robes of pearl and gold,
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With diamonds richly drest,
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Shall dance the calliards of my love,
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Whilst my foes lie oppress'd,
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And you Sir Thomas, whom I trust,
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To be my love's defence,
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Be careful of the gallant rose,
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When I am parted hence,
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And therewithal he fetch'd a sigh,
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As though his heart would break,
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And fair Rosamond for very grief,
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One word she could not speak.
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And at their parting they well might,
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In heart be grieved sore,
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After that day fair Rosamond,
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The king did see no more:
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For when his grace had pass'd the seas,
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And into France was gone,
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Queen Eleanor with envious heart,
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To Woodstock came anon,
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And forth she calls this trusty knight,
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Who kept this curious bow'r,
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Who with a clew of twined thread,
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Came from this famous flower.
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And when they had wounded him,
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The queen this thread did get,
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And went were lady Rosamond,
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Was like an angel set:
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But when the queen with steadfast eye,
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Beheld her beauteous face,
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She was amazed in her mind,
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At her exceeding grace;
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Cast of from thee those robes she said,
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That rich and costly be,
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And drink thou this deadly drought,
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Which I have brought to thee.
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But presently upon her knees,
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Sweet Rosamond did fall,
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And pardon of the queen she crav'd,
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For her offences all;
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Take pity on my youthful years,
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Fair Rosamond did cry,
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And let me not with poison strong,
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Enforc'd be to die,
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I will renounce my sinful life,
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And in some cloister hide,
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Or else be banish'd if you please,
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To range the world so wide,
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And for the fault that I have done,
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Tho' I was forc'd thereto,
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Preserve my life and punish me,
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As you think good to do.
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And with these words her lilly hands,
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She wrung full often there,
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And down along her comely face,
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Proceeded many a tear;
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But nothing could this furious queen,
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Wherewith appeased be,
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The cup of deadly poison strong,
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As she kneel'd on her knee.
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She gave this comely dame to drink,
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Who took it in her hand,
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And from her bendid knee arose,
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And on her feet did stand;
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And casting up her eyes to heaven,
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She did for mercy call,
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And drinking up the poison strong,
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Her life she lost withal.
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And when that death in every limb,
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Had done her gaeatest spite,
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Her greatest foes did there confess,
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She was a glorious white;
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Her body then they did entomb,
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When life was fled away,
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At Woodstock near to Oxford, town,
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As may be seen this day.
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