A Lamentable BALLAD
OF
Fair ROSAMOND,
King Henry the Second's Concubine,
Who was put to Death by Queen ELINOR, in the Famous Bower of Wood-
stock, near Oxford. To the Tune of, Flying Fame, etc.
Licens'd and Enter'd according to Order.
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WHen as King Henry rul'd this Land,
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the Second of that 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 perless was her Beauty found,
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her Favour 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 crisped Locks like Threads of Gold,
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appear'd to each Man's sight;
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Her co[m]ely Eyes like Orient Pearls,
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did cast a heavenly light;
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The Blood within her cristal Cheeks,
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did such a Colour drive,
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As though the Lilly and the Rose,
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for Mastership did st[ri]ve.
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Yea, Rosamond, fair Rosamond,
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her Name was called so,
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To whom Dame Elinor 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 builded such a Bower,
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the like was never seen:
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Most curiously that Bower was built,
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of Stone and Timber strong,
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A hundred and fifty Doors
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did to this Bower belong;
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And they so cunningly contriv'd,
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with Turning roundabout,
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That none but with a Clew of Thread,
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could enter in or 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 Bower he gave
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unto a valiant 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 why, the King's ungracious Son,
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whom he did high advance,
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Against his Father raised Wars,
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within the Realm of France:
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But yet before our comely King
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the English Land forsook,
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Of Rosamond, 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 pleasest best mine eye,
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The fairest Flower in all the World,
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to feed my Fantasie;
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The Flower of my affected Heart,
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whose Sweetness doth excel
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My Royal Rose, a hundred times,
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I bid thee now Farewel.
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For I must leave my fair[e]st Flower,
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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 Reb[e]ls to abase:
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But yet my Rose be sure thou shalt
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my coming shortly see;
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And i[n] 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 the King say so,
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The Sorrow of her grieved Heart
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her outward Looks did show;
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And from her clear and cristal Eyes
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the Tears gusht out apace,
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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 Swound,
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before King Henrys Face,
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Full oft within his Princely Arms,
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her Body did imbrace.
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And twenty times with watery Eyes
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he kist 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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Wh[y] grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose?
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the King did 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 sin[c]e your Grace in foreign Coasts,
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amongst 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, rather let me like a Page,
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thy Sword and Target bear,
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That on my Breast the Blow may light,
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that should 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 with sweet Baths refresh your Grace,
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at your return from F[i]ght;
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So I your Presence may enjoy,
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no Toyl 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 th[y]self, my dearest Love,
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thy Rest a[t] home shall be,
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In Englands 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-Bower,
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with Musick sweetly d[i]ght,
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Whilst I amo[n]g the pierc[in]g 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 dight,
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Shall dance the Galliards [o]f my Love,
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while I my Foes do smite.
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And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust,
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t[o] be my Love's Defence,
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Be careful of my gallant Rose,
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when I am parted hence:
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And therewithal he fetcht a Sigh,
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as though his Heart would break;
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And Rosamond for very Grief,
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not one plain Word could speak.
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And at their parting well they 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 past the Seas,
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and into France was gone,
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Queen Elinor 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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which kept this curious Bower,
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Who with his Clew of twined Thread,
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came from this famous Flower:
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And when that 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 heavenly Face,
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She was amazed in her Mind
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at her exceeding Grace:
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Cast off fr[o]m thee these Robes (she said)
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that rich and costly be,
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And drink thou up this deadly Draught,
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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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inforced be to dye.
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I will renounce my sinful Life,
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and in some Cloyster 'bide,
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Or else be banished, if you please,
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to range the Worl[d] so wide;
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And for the Fault that I have done,
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though 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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therewith appeased be,
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The Cup of deadly Poison strong,
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as she knelt 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 bended 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 through every [limb]
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had done her greatest Spight,
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Her chiefest Foes did there confess,
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she was a glorious Wight:
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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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