A True Relation of the Life and Death of Sir Andrew Barton, a Pyrate and Rover on the Seas. Tune is, Come follow my Love.
|
WHen Flora with her fragrant flowers
|
bedect the Earth so trim and gay,
|
And Neptune with her dainty showers,
|
came to present the month of May:
|
King Henry would a Hunting ride,
|
over the River of Thames past he,
|
Unto a Mountain top also,
|
did walk some pleasure for to see.
|
Where forty Merchants he espy'd,
|
with fifty sail come towards him,
|
Who then no sooner were arriv'd,
|
but on their knees did thus complain:
|
An't please your Grace we cannot sail,
|
to France no Voyage to be sure,
|
But Sir Andrew Barton makes us quail,
|
and robs us of our merchant ware.
|
Vext was the King, and turned him,
|
said to his Lords of high degree,
|
Have I ne'er a Lord within my Realm,
|
dare fetch that Traytor unto me?
|
To him reply'd Lord Charles Howard,
|
I will my Leige with heart and hand,
|
If it please you grant me leave, he said,
|
I will perform what you command.
|
To him then speak King Henry,
|
I fear my Lord you are too Young,
|
No whit at all my Leige, quoth he,
|
I hope to prove in Valour strong:
|
The Scotish Knight I vow to seek,
|
in what place soever he be,
|
And bring a shore with all his might,
|
or into Scotland he shall carry me.
|
A hundred men the King then said,
|
out of my Realm shall chosen be,
|
Besides Sailors and Ship boys,
|
to guide a great Ship on the Sea,
|
Bow-men and Gunners of good skill,
|
shall for this service chosen be,
|
And they at thy command and will,
|
in all affairs shall wait on thee.
|
Lord Howard call'd a Gunner then,
|
who was the best in all the Realm,
|
His Age was three score years & ten,
|
and Peter Simon was his name:
|
my Lord call'd then a Bow man rare,
|
whose active hands had gained fame;
|
A Gentleman born in York-shire,
|
and William Horsely was his name:
|
Horsely (quoth he) I must to Sea,
|
to seek a Traytor with good speed,
|
Of a hundred Bowmen brave, (quoth he)
|
I have chosen thee to be the head.
|
If you, my Lord, have chosen me
|
of a hundred men to be the head,
|
Upon the main Mast i'll Hanged be,
|
if twelve score I miss one shillings breadth.
|
Lord Howard then of Courage bold,
|
went to the Seas with pleasant chear,
|
Not curb'd with Winteres piercing cold,
|
though it was the stormy time of the year.
|
Not long he had been on the Sea,
|
no more in days than number three,
|
But one Henry Hunt there he epy'd,
|
a Merchant of New-castle was he,
|
To him Lord Howard call'd out amain,
|
and strictly charged him to stand,
|
Demanding then from whence he came,
|
or where he did intend to Land:
|
The Merchant then made answer soon,
|
with heavy heart and careful mind,
|
my Lord, my Ship it doth belong
|
unto New-castle upon Tine,
|
Canst thou shew me, the Lord did say,
|
as thou didst Sail by day and night,
|
A Scotish Rover on the Sea,
|
his name is Andrew Barton, Knight:
|
Then the Merchant sigh'd and said,
|
with grieved mind and well away,
|
But over-well I know that wight,
|
I was his Prisoner Yesterday:
|
As I (my Lord) did sail from France,
|
a Burdeaux Voyage to take so far,
|
I met with Sir Andrew Barton thence,
|
who Rob'd me of my merchant ware.
|
And muckle debts God knows I owe,
|
and every man doth crave his own,
|
And I am bound to London now,
|
of our gracious King to beg a boon.
|
Shew me him, said Lord Howard then,
|
let me once the Villain see,
|
And every Penny he hath from the tane,
|
I'll double the same with Shillings three.
|
He is Brass within and steel without,
|
his Ship most huge and mighty strong,
|
With eighteen pieces of Ordnance,
|
he carrieth on each side along:
|
With Beams for his Top castle,
|
as also being huge and high,
|
That neither English nor Portugal,
|
can Sir Andrew Barton pass by:
|
Hard news thou shew'st, then said the Lord,
|
to welcome Strangers to the Sea.
|
But as I said i'll bring him a[boar]d,
|
or into Scotland he shall carry me.
|
The merchant said if you will do so,
|
take counsel then I pray withal,
|
Let no man to his Top-castle go,
|
nor strive to let his beams down fall.
|
Lend me seven pieces of Ordnance then,
|
of each side of my Ship, said he,
|
And tomorrow, my Lord,
|
again I will your honour see.
|
A Glass i'll set that may be seen,
|
whither you Sail by day or night,
|
And tomorrow besure before seven,
|
you shall see Sir Andwew Barton Knight
|
The merchan set my Lord a Glass,
|
so well apparent in his sight,
|
That on the morrow, as his promise was,
|
he saw Sir Andrew Barton Knight.
|
The Lord then swore a mighty Oath,
|
now by the Heavens that be of might,
|
By faith believe me, and by troth,
|
I think he is a worthy Knight.
|
Sir Andrew Barton seeing him,
|
thus scornfully to pass by,
|
As though he cared not a pin,
|
for him and all his company.
|
Then called he his men amain,
|
fetch back yon Pedler, now, quoth he,
|
And e'er this way he comes again,
|
i'll teach him well his Courtesie.
|
Fetch me my Lyon out of hand,
|
saith the Lord, with rose & streamer high,
|
Set up withal a willow wand,
|
that Merchant like I may pass by.
|
Thus bravely did Lord Howard pass.
|
and on Anchor rise so high;
|
No Top-sail at last he cast,
|
but as a Foe did him defie.
|
A piece of Ordnance soon was Shot,
|
by this proud Pyrate fiercely then.
|
Into Lord Howards middle Deck,
|
which cruel Shot kill'd fourteen men.
|
He called then Peter Simon, he,
|
look how thy word do stand instead,
|
For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast,
|
if thou miss 12 score one penny breadth,
|
Then Peter Simon gave a Shot,
|
which did Sir Andrew mickle scare,
|
In at his Deck it came so hot,
|
kill'd fifteen of his men of war.
|
Alas, then said the Pyrate stout,
|
I am in danger now I see,
|
This is some Lord I greatly fear,
|
that is set on to Conquer me.
|
Then Henry Hunt with rigour hot,
|
came bravely on the other side,
|
Who likewise shot in at his Deck,
|
and killed fifty of his men beside:
|
Then out alas, Sir Andrew cry'd,
|
what may a man now think or say,
|
Yon merchant Thief that pierceth me,
|
he was my Prisoner yesterday.
|
Then did he on Gordian call,
|
unto Top-castle for to go,
|
And bid his beams he should let fall,
|
for I greatly fear an Overthrow.
|
The Lord call'd Horsely now in haste,
|
look that thy word now stand instead,
|
For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast,
|
if thou miss 12 score a shillings breadth.
|
Then up mast tree swerved he,
|
this stout and mighty Gordion;
|
But Horsely he most happily,
|
Shot him under the Collar bone.
|
Then called he on his Nephew then,
|
said, Sisters Sons I have no mo,
|
Three hundred pound I will give thee,
|
if thou wilt to Top-castle go.
|
Then stoutly he began to climb,
|
from off the mast scorn'd to depart.
|
But Horsely soon prevented him,
|
and deadly pierc'd him to the heart.
|
His men being slain, then up amain
|
did this proud Pyrate climb with speed,
|
For Armour of proof he had put on,
|
and did not dint of Arrows Dread.
|
Come hither Horsely (said the Lord)
|
see thou thy Arrows aim aright,
|
Great means to thee I will afford,
|
& if thou speed'st i'll make the a Knight.
|
Sir Andrew did climb up the tree,
|
with right good will and all his main,
|
Then upon the breast hit Horsely he,
|
till the Arrow did return again.
|
Then Horsely spyed a private place,
|
with a perfect eye in a secret part,
|
His Arrow swiftly slew apace,
|
and smote Sr Andrew to the heart.
|
Fight on, fight on, my merry men all,
|
a littel I am hurt, yet not slain,
|
I'll but lye down and bleed a while,
|
and come and fight with you again.
|
They never heard his whistle blow,
|
which made them all full sore afraid,
|
Then Horsely said my Lord aboard.
|
for now Sir Andrew Barton's Dead,
|
Thus Boarded they this gallant Ship,
|
with right good will and all their main,
|
Eighteen score Scots alive in it,
|
besides as many more was slain.
|
The Lord went where Sir Andrew lay,
|
and quickly thence Cut off his head,
|
I should forsak'd England many a day,
|
if thou wert Alive as thou art Dead:
|
Thus from the wars Lord Howard came,
|
with mickle joy and triumphing,
|
The Pyrates head he brought along,
|
for to present unto our King.
|
Who briefly then to him did say,
|
before he knew well what was done,
|
Where is the Knight and Pyrate gay,
|
that I myself may give the Doom,
|
You may thank God, then said the Lord,
|
and four men in the Ship quoth he,
|
That we are safely come ashore;
|
sith you never had such an Enemy.
|
That is Henry Hunt, and Peter Simon,
|
William Horsely and Peters Son:
|
Therefore reward them for their pains,
|
for they did service at their turn.
|
To the Merchant then the King did say,
|
in lieu of what he hath from thee tane,
|
I give to thee a Noble a Day,
|
Sir Andrew's Whistle and his Chain.
|
To Peter Simon a Crown a Day,
|
and half a Crown a Day to Peter's Son,
|
And that was for a shot so gay,
|
which bravely brought Sir Andrew down
|
Horsely I will make thee a Knight,
|
and in York-shire thou shalt dwell:
|
Lord Howard shall Earl Bury hight,
|
for this Title he deserveth well.
|
S[e]ven shillings to our English men,
|
who in the Fight did stoutly stand,
|
And 12 Pence a Day to the Scots, till they
|
come to my Brother Kings high Land.
|
|
|
|
|
|