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SONGS AND BALLADS
' This is cold comfort,' sais my Lord Haward, ' To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea;
I'le bring him and his shipp to shore,
Or else into Scottland hee shall carrye mee.'
' Then you must gett a noble gunner, my lord,
That can sett well with his eye, And sinke his pinnace into the sea,
And soone then overcome will hee bee.
' And when that you have done this, If you chance Sir Andrew for to bord,
Lett no man to his topcastle goe ; And I will give you a glasse, my lord,
' And then you need to ffeare no Scott, Whether you sayle by day or by night;
And to-morrow, by seven of the clocke, , You shall meete with Sir Andrew Bartton, knight.
' I was his prisoner but yester night, And he hath taken mee sworne,' quoth hee;
' I trust my L[ord] God will me fforgive And if that oath then broken bee.
' You must lend me sixe peeces, my lord,' quoth hee,
' Into my shipp to sayle the sea, And to-morrow, by nine of the clocke,
Your Honour againe then will I see.' |
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And the hache-bord where Sir Andrew lay
Is hached with gold deerlye dight: ' Now by my ffaith,' sais Charles, my lord Haward,
' Then yonder Scott is a worthye wight!
' Take in your ancyents and your standards,
Yea that no man shall them see, And put me fforth a white willow wand,
As merchants use to sayle the sea.'
But they stirred neither top nor mast,
But Sir Andrew they passed by: ' Whatt English are yonder,' said Sir Andrew,
' That can so little curtesye ? |
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