A True RELATION of the Death of
Sir Andrew Barton, a Pyrate and Rover.
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WHEN Flora with her fragrant flowers,
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Bedeck'd the earth so trim and gay,
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And Iris with his dainty showers,
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Came to present the month of May,
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King Henry would a hunting ride;
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Over the River of Thames pass'd he,
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Unto a mountain top also,
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Did walk some pleasures for to see.
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Where forty merchants he espy'd,
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With forty sail come towards him:
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Who then no sooner were arriv'd,
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But on their knees did thus complain:
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An't please your Grace we cannot sail,
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Unto France a voyage to be sure,
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But Sir Barton he makes us quail,
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And robs us of our merchants store.
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Vex'd was the King and turning him,
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Said to the Lords of high degree,
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Have I ne'er a Lord within my realm,
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Dares fetch that traitor unto me?
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To him reply'd Charles Lord Howard,
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I will, my Liege, with heart and hand,
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If it please you grant me leave, he said,
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I will perform what you command.
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To him then spoke King Henry,
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I fear, my Lord, you are too young:
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No whit at all, my Liege, quoth he,
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I hope to prove in valour strong.
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The Scotch Knight now I vow to seek,
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In what place soe'er he be;
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And bring him a-shore with all might,
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Or into Scotland he shall carry me.
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A hundred men the King then said
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Out of my realm shall chosen be;
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Besides sailors and ship-boys,
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For to guide a ship on the sea.
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Bowmen and gunners of good skill,
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Shall for this service chosen be;
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And they at thy command and will,
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In all affairs shall wait on thee,
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Lord Howard call'd a gunner then;
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Who was the best in all the realm;
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His age was threescore years and ten,
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And Peter Simon was his name.
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My Lord call'd then a bowman rate,
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Whose active hands had gained fame;
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A gentleman born in Yorkshire.
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And William Horsly was his name.
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Horsly, quoth he, I must to go to sea,
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For to seek a traitor with good speed:
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Of a hundred bowmen brave, quoth he,
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I have chose thee to be their head.
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If you, my Lord, have chosen me,
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Of a hundred men to be their head,
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Upon the main-mast I will be hang'd,
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If twelve-score I miss a shilling's breadth.
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Lord Howard then of courage bold,
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Went to sea with pleasant chear,
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Not curb'd with winter's piercing cold,
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Tho' 'twas a stormy time of year,
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Not long he had been on the sea,
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More in Days than number three;
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But one Harry Hunt he there espy'd,
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A merchant of Newcastle was he.
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To him Lord Howard call'd out amain,
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And strictly charged him to stand;
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Demanding then from whence he came,
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Or whence he intend to land.
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The merchant then made answer soon,
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With heavy heart and careful mind,
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My Lord my ship it doth belong
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Unto Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
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Can'st thou shew me, the Lord did say,
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As thou didst sail by day or night,
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A Scotish rover on the seas,
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His name is Andrew Barton, Knight.
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At this the merchant sigh'd and said,
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With grieved mind, and well-away,
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But over-well I know that wight,
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I was his prisoner but yesterday.
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As I, my Lord, did sail from France,
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A Bourdeaux voyage to make so far;
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I met with Sir Andrew Barton, Knight,
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Who robb'd me of my merchant ware.
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And mickle debts, god-wot, I owe,
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And every man doth crave his own,
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And I am bound for London now,
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Of our gracious King to beg a boon.
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Shew me him, said Lord Howard then,
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Let me but once the villain see,
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And ev'ry penny he hath from thee ta'en,
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I'll double it with Shillings three,
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Now, God forbid, the merchant said,
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I fear your aim that you will miss;
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God bless you from his tyranny,
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For little do you think what a man he is.
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He is brass within, and steel without,
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His ship most huge, and mighty strong;
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With eighteen pieces of ordinance,
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He carrieth on each side along.
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With beams for his top-castle,
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As being also huge and high:
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That neither English nor Portugal
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Can Sir Andrew Barton once pass by.
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Hard news thou shewest, then said the Lord,
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For to welcome angels unto the sea,
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But as I said, I'll bring him abroad,
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Or into Scotland he shall carry me.
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The merchant said, if you will do so,
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Take counsel then, I pray, withal:
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Let no man to his top-castle go,
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Nor strive to let his beams down fall.
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Lend me seven pieces of ordinance then,
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On each side of my ship, said he:
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And by to-morrow, my good Lord,
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Again I will your Honour see.
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A glass I'll set as may be seen,
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Whither you sail by day or night,
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And to-morrow besure before seven,
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You shall meet Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.
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The merchant set my Lord a glass,
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So well aparent in his sight;
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That on the morrow as the promise was,
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He saw Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.
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The Lord then swore a mighty oath,
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Now by the heavens that be of might,
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By faith believe me, and by troth.
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I think he is a worthy Knight.
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Fetch me my lion out of hand,
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Saith he, with rose and streamers high;
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Set up withal a willow wand,
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That merchant-like I may pass by.
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That bravely did Lord Howard pass,
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And on an anchor rose so high;
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No top-sail at length he cast,
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But as a foe did him defy.
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Sir Andrew Barton seeing him.
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Thus scornfully for to pass by,
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As tho' he cared not a pin,
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For him and his company.
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Then called he for his men amain,
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Fetch back yon pedlar, now quoth he,
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And ere this way he comes again,
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I'll teach him well his courtesy.
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A piece of ordnance being shot,
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By this proud pyrate fiercely then;
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Into Lord Howard's middle deck,
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Which cruel shot kill'd fourteen men.
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He call'd then Peter Simon he,
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Look now thy word do stand instead,
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For thou shalt be hanged on main-mast,
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If thou miss twelve score one shillings breadth.
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Then Peter Simon gave a shot,
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Which Sir Andrew muckle scare;
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In at his deck it came so hot,
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Kill'd fifteen of his men of war;
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Alas! then said the pyrate stout,
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I am in danger now I see;
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This is some Lord I greatly fear,
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Who is sat out to conquer me.
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Then Henry Hunt with rigour hot,
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Came bravely on the other side;
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Who likewise shot in at his deck,
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And kill'd fifty of his men besides;
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Then out, alas! Sir Andrew cry'd,
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What may a man now think or say;
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You merchant thief that pierceth me,
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He was my prisoner yesterday.
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Then did he on Gordion call,
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Unto the top's castle for to go:
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And bid his beams he should let fall;
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For he greatly fear'd an overthrow.
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The Lord call'd Horsley then in haste,
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Look that thy word do stand instead;
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For hanged thou shalt be on main-mast
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If thou miss twelvescore shillings breadth.
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Then up the main-mast swerved he,
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This stout and mighty Gordion;
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But Horsley he most happily
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Shot him under the collar bone.
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Then call'd he on his nephew, and
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Said, sister's son, I have no more;
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Three hundred pounds I will give thee,
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If thou wilt to the top castle go.
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Then stoutly he began to climb,
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For off the mast scorn'd to depart:
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But Horsley soon prevented him,
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And deadly pierc'd him to the heart.
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His men being slain then up a-main
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Did this proud pyrate climb with speed,
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For armour of proof he had put on,
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And not hint of arrows dread.
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Come hither Horsly, said the Lord,
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See thou thy arrows aim right;
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Great means to thee I'll sure afford,
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And if thou speed'st thou shalt be a Knight.
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Sir Andrew did climb up the tree,
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With right good will, and all his main;
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Then upon his breast hit Horsley he,
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Bu[t] the arrow did return again.
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Then Horsley 'spy'd a private place,
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Wi[t]h a private eye in a secret part,
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His arrows swiftly flew apace,
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And smote Sir Andrew to the heart.
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Fight on, fight on, my merry men,
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A little I am hurt, but am not slain,
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I will lie down and bleed awhile,
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And come and fight with you again.
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And don't, said he, fear English rogues,
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And of your foes stand not in awe;
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But stand fast by St. Andrew's Cross,
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Until you hear my whistle blow.
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They never did hear his whistle blow,
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Which made them all most sore afraid;
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Then Horsley said, My Lord a-board,
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For now Sir Andrew Barton's dead.
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Thus boarded they this gallant ship,
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With right good-will, and all their main,
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Eighteen score Scots alive in it,
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Besides as many more were slain.
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The Lord went where Sir Andrew lay,
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And quickly then cut off his head.
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I should leave England many a day,
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If thou wert alive as thou art dead.
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Thus from the war Lord Howard came
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With mickle joy and triumphing;
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The pyrate's head he brought along,
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For to present unto the King.
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Who briefly unto him did say,
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Before he well knew what was done,
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Where is the Knight and pyrate gay,
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That I myself may give the doom?
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You may thank God, then said the Lord,
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And for men in the ship, quoth he,
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That we are safely come on shore,
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Sith you never had such an enemy
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That is Henry Hunt and Peter Simon,
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William Horsley, and Peter's son;
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Therefore reward them for their pains,
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For they did service in their turn.
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To the merchant therefore the King said,
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In lieu of what he hath from thee taken,
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I'll give to thee a noble a day,
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Sir Andrew's whistle and his chain.
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To Peter Simon a crown a day.
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And half a crown to Peter's son;
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And that was for a shot so gay,
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Which bravely brought Sir Andrew down.
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Horsley, I will make thee a Knight,
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And in Yorksh[i]re thou shalt dwell;
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Lord Howard shall Lord Bury be,
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For this act deserveth well.
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Ninety pounds our Englishmen,
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Who in this fight did stoutly stand,
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And twelve-pence a day to the Scots, till this
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Come to my brother King's high-land.
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