ancient poems- 第20部分

Tother　a　bastard　sonne　of　Spaine；　Mony　a　Sarazin　hadde　hee　slaine；　Hys　dint　hadde　garred　thayme　dye。　Theis　men　the　battel　undertoke　Agen　the　sewe；　as　saythe　the　boke；　And　sealed　securitye；

That　they　shold　boldly　bide　and　fyghte；　And　scomfit　her　in　maine　and　myghte；　Or　therfor　sholde　they　dye。　The　Warden　sealed　toe　thayme　againe；　And　sayde；　'If　ye　in　fielde　be　slaine；　This　condition　make　I：

'Wee　shall　for　yow　praye；　syng；　and　reade；　Until　Domesdaye　wyth　heartye　speede；　With　al　our　progenie。'　Then　the　lettres　wer　wele　made；　The　bondes　wer　bounde　wyth　seales　brade；　As　deeds　of　arms　sholde　bee。

Theise　men…at…arms　thatte　wer　sea　wight；　And　wyth　theire　armour　burnished　bryght；　They　went　the　sewe　toe　see。　Scho　made　at　thayme　sike　a　roare；　That　for　her　they　fear　it　sore；　And　almaiste　bounde　to　flee。

Scho　cam　runnyng　thayme　agayne；　And　saw　the　bastarde　sonne　of　Spaine；　Hee　brayded　owt　hys　brande；　Ful　spiteouslie　at　her　hee　strake；　Yet　for　the　fence　that　he　colde　make；　Scho　strake　it　fro　hys　hande；　And　rave　asander　half　hys　sheelde；　And　bare　hym　backwerde　in　the　fielde；　Hee　mought　not　her　gainstande。

Scho　wolde　hav　riven　hys　privich　geare；　But　Gilbert　wyth　hys　swerde　of　warre；　Hee　strake　at　her　ful　strang。　In　her　shouther　hee　held　the　swerde；　Than　was　Gilbert　sore　afearde；　When　the　blade　brak　in　twang。

And　whan　in　hande　hee　had　her　ta'en；　Scho　toke　hym　by　the　shouther　bane；　And　held　her　hold　ful　faste；　Scho　strave　sea　stifflie　in　thatte　stoure；　Scho　byt　thro'　ale　hys　rich　armoure；　Till　bloud　cam　owt　at　laste。

Than　Gilbert　grieved　was　sea　sare；　That　hee　rave　off　the　hyde　of　haire；　The　flesh　cam　fra　the　bane；　And　wyth　force　hee　held　her　ther；　And　wanne　her　worthilie　in　warre；　And　band　her　hym　alane；

And　lifte　her　on　a　horse　sea　hee；　Into　two　panyers　made　of　a　tree；　And　toe　Richmond　anon。　When　they　sawe　the　felon　come；　They　sange　merrilye　Te　Deum！　The　freers　evrich　one。

They　thankyd　God　and　Saynte　Frauncis；　That　they　had　wonne　the　beaste　of　pris；　And　nere　a　man　was　sleyne：　There　never　didde　man　more　manlye；　The　Knyght　Marone；　or　Sir　Guye；　Nor　Louis　of　Lothraine。

If　yow　wyl　any　more　of　thys；　I'　the　fryarie　at　Richmond　（29）　written　yt　is；　In　parchment　gude　and　fyne；　How　Freer　Myddeltone　sea　hende；　Att　Greta　Bridge　conjured　a　fiende；　In　lykeness　of　a　swyne。

Yt　is　wel　knowen　toe　manie　a　man；　That　Freer　Theobald　was　warden　than；　And　thys　fel　in　hys　tyme。　And　Chryst　thayme　bles　both　ferre　and　nere；　Al　that　for　solas　this　doe　here；　And　hym　that　made　the　ryme。

Raphe　of　Rokeby　wid　ful　gode　wyl；　The　freers　of　Richmond　gav　her　tyll；　This　sewe　toe　mende　ther　fare；　Freer　Myddeltone　by　name；　He　wold　bring　the　felon　hame；　That　rewed　hym　sine　ful　sare。



Ballad：　ARTHUR　O'BRADLEY'S　WEDDING。



＇IN　the　ballad　called　ROBIN　HOOD；　HIS　BIRTH；　BREEDING；　VALOUR　AND　　MARRIAGE；　occurs　the　following　line：…


And　some　singing　Arthur…a…Bradley。


Antiquaries　are　by　no　means　agreed　as　to　what　is　the　song　of　　ARTHUR…A…BRADLEY；　there　alluded　to；　for　it　so　happens　that　there　　are　no　less　than　three　different　songs　about　this　same　Arthur…a…　Bradley。　　Ritson　gives　one　of　them　in　his　ROBIN　HOOD；　commencing　　thus：…


See　you　not　Pierce　the　piper。


He　took　it　from　a　black…letter　copy　in　a　private　collection；　　compared　with；　and　very　much　corrected　by；　a　copy　contained　in　AN　　ANTIDOTE　AGAINST　MELANCHOLY；　MADE　UP　IN　PILLS　COMPOUNDED　OF　WITTY　　BALLADS；　JOVIAL　SONGS；　AND　MERRY　CATCHES；　1661。　　Ritson　quotes　　another；　and　apparently　much　more　modern　song　on　the　same　subject；　　and　to　the　same　tune；　beginning；　…

All　in　the　merry　month　of　May。


It　is　a　miserable　composition；　as　may　be　seen　by　referring　to　a　　copy　preserved　in　the　third　volume　of　the　Roxburgh　Ballads。　　There　　is　another　song；　the　one　given　by　us；　which　appears　to　be　as　　ancient　as　any　of　those　of　which　Arthur　O'Bradley　is　the　hero；　and　　from　its　subject　being　a　wedding；　as　also　from　its　being　the　only　　Arthur　O'Bradley　song　that　we　have　been　enabled　to　trace　in　　broadside　and　chap…books　of　the　last　century；　we　are　induced　to　　believe　that　it　may　be　the　song　mentioned　in　the　old　ballad；　which　　is　supposed　to　have　been　written　in　the　reign　of　Charles　I。　　An　　obscure　music　publisher；　who　about　thirty　years　ago　resided　in　the　　Metropolis；　brought　out　an　edition　of　ARTHUR　O'BRADLEY'S　WEDDING；　　with　the　prefix　'Written　by　Mr。　Taylor。'　　This　Mr。　Taylor　was；　　however；　only　a　low　comedian　of　the　day；　and　the　ascribed　　authorship　was　a　mere　trick　on　the　publisher's　part　to　increase　the　　sale　of　the　song。　　We　are　not　able　to　give　any　account　of　the　hero；　　but　from　his　being　alluded　to　by　so　many　of　our　old　writers；　he　　was；　perhaps；　not　altogether　a　fictitious　personage。　　Ben　Jonson　　names　him　in　one　of　his　plays；　and　he　is　also　mentioned　in　Dekker's　　HONEST　WHORE。　　Of　one　of　the　tunes　mentioned　in　the　song；　viz。；　　HENCE；　MELANCHOLY！　we　can　give　no　account；　the　other；　…　MAD　MOLL；　　may　be　found　in　Playford's　DANCING…MASTER；　1698：　it　is　the　same　　tune　as　the　one　known　by　the　names　of　YELLOW　STOCKINGS　and　the　　VIRGIN　QUEEN；　the　latter　title　seeming　to　connect　it　with　Queen　　Elizabeth；　as　the　name　of　Mad　Moll　does　with　the　history　of　Mary；　　who　was　subject　to　mental　aberration。　　The　words　of　MAD　MOLL　are　　not　known　to　exist；　but　probably　consisted　of　some　fulsome　　panegyric　on　the　virgin　queen；　at　the　expense　of　her　unpopular　　sister。　　From　the　mention　of　HENCE；　MELANCHOLY；　and　MAD　MOLL；　it　is　　presumed　that　they　were　both　popular　favourites　when　ARTHUR　　O'BRADLEY'S　WEDDING　was　written。　　A　good　deal　of　vulgar　grossness　　has　been　at　different　times　introduced　into　this　song；　which　seems　　in　this　respect　to　be　as　elastic　as　the　French　chanson；　CADET　　ROUSELLE；　which　is　always　being　altered；　and　of　which　there　are　no　　two　copies　alike。　　The　tune　of　ARTHUR　O'BRADLEY　is　given　by　Mr。　　Chappell　in　his　POPULAR　MUSIC。＇


COME；　neighbours；　and　listen　awhile；　If　ever　you　wished　to　smile；　Or　hear　a　true　story　of　old；　Attend　to　what　I　now　unfold！　'Tis　of　a　lad　whose　fame　did　resound　Through　every　village　and　town　around；　For　fun；　for　frolic；　and　for　whim；　None　ever　was　to　equal　him；　And　his　name　was　Arthur　O'Bradley！　O！　rare　Arthur　O'Bradley！　wonderful　Arthur　O'Bradley！　Sweet　Arthur　O'Bradley；　O！

Now；　Arthur　being　stout　and　bold；　And　near　upon　thirty　years　old；　He　needs　a　wooing　would　go；　To　get　him　a　helpmate；　you　know。　So；　gaining　young　Dolly's　consent；　Next　to　be　married　they　went；　And　to　make　himself　noble　appear；　He　mounted　the　old　padded　mare；　He　chose　her　because　she　was　blood；　And　the　prime　of　his　old　daddy's　stud。　She　was　wind…galled；　spavined；　and　blind；　And　had　lost　a　near　leg　behind；　She　was　cropped；　and　docked；　and　fired；　And　seldom；　if　ever；　was　tired；　She　had　such　an　abundance　of　bone；　So　he　called　her　his　high…bred　roan；　A　credit　to　Arthur　O'Bradley！　O！　rare　Arthur　O'Bradley！　wonderful　Arthur　O'Bradley！　Sweet　Arthur　O'Bradley；　O！

Then　he　packed　up　his　drudgery　hose；　And　put　on　his　holiday　clothes；　His　coat　was　of　scarlet　so　fine；　Full　trimmed　with　buttons　behind；　Two　sleeves　it　had　it　is　true；　One　yellow；　the　other　was　blue；　And　the　cuffs　and　the　capes　were　of　green；　And　the　longest　that　ever　were　seen；　His　hat；　though　greasy　and　tore；　Cocked　up　with　a　feather　before；　And　under　his　chin　it　was　tied；　With　a　strip　from　an　old　cow's　hide；　His　breeches　three　times　had　been　turned；　And　two　holes　through　the　left　side　were　burned；　Two　boots　he　had；　but　not　kin；　One　leather；　the　other　was　tin；　And　for　stirrups　he　had　two　patten　rings；　Tied　fast　to　the　girth　with　two　strings；　Yet　he　wanted　a　good　saddle　cloth；　Which　long　had　been　eat　by　the　moth。　'Twas　a　sad　misfortune；　you'll　say；　But　still　he　looked　gallant　and　gay；　And　his　name　it　was　Arthur　O'Bradley！　O！　rare　Arthur　O'Bradley！　wonderful　Arthur　O'Bradley！　Sweet　Arthur　O'Bradley；　O！

Thus　accoutred；　away　he　did　ride；　While　Dolly　she　walked　by　his　side；　Till　coming　up　to　the　church　door；　In　the　midst　of　five　thousand　or　more；　Then　from　the　old　mare　he　did　alight；　Which　put　the　clerk　in　a　fright；　And　the　parson　so　fumbled　and　shook；　That　presently　down　dropped　his　book。　Then　Arthur　began　for　to　sing；　And　made　the　whole　church　to　ring；　Crying；　'Dolly；　my　dear；　come　hither；　And　let　us　be　tacked　together；　For　the　honour　of　Arthur　O'Bradley！'　O！　rare　Arthur　O'Bradley！　wonderful　Arthur　O'Bradley！　Sweet　Arthur　O'Bradley；　O！

Then　the　vicar　discharged　his　duty；　Without　either　reward　or　fee；　Declaring　no　money　he'd　have；　And　poor　Arthur　he'd　none　to　give：　So；　to　make　him　a　little　amends；　He　invited　him　home　with　his　friends；　To　have　a　sweet　kiss　at　the　bride；　And　eat　a　good　dinner　beside。　The　dishes；　though　few；　were　good；　And　the　sweetest　of　animal　food：　First；　a　roast　guinea…pig　and　a　bantam；　A　sheep's　head　stewed　in　a　lanthorn；　（30）　Two　calves'　feet；　and　a　bull's　trotter；　The　fore　and　hind　leg　of　an　otter；　With　craw…fish；　cockles；　and　crabs；　Lump…fish；　limpets；　and　dabs；　Red　herrings　and　sprats；　by　dozens；　To　feast　all　their　uncles　and　cousins；　Who　seemed　well　pleased　with　their　treat；　And　heartily　they　did　all　eat；　For　the　honour　of　Arthur　O'Bradley！　O！　rare　Arthur　O'Bradley！　wonderful　Arthur　O'Bradley！　Sweet　Arthur　O'Bradley；　O！

Now；　the　guests　being　well　satisfied；　The　fragments　were　laid　on　one　side；　When　Arthur；　to　make　their　hearts　merry；　Brought　ale；　and　parkin；　（31）　and　perry；　When　Timothy　Twig　stept　in；　With　his　pipe；　and　a　pipkin　of　gin。　A　lad　that　was　pleasant　and　jolly；　And　scorned　to　meet　melancholy；　He　would　chant　and　pipe　so　well；　No　youth　could　him　excel。　Not　Pan　the　god　of　the　swains；　Could　ever　produce　such　strains；　But　Arthur；　being　first　in　the　throng；　He　swore　he　would　sing　the　first　song；　And　one　that　was　pleasant　and　jolly：　And　that　should　be　'Hence；　Melancholy！'　'Now　give　me　a　dance；'　quoth　Doll；　'Come；　Jeffrery；　play　up　Mad　Moll；　'Tis　time　to　be　merry　and　frisky；　…　But　first　I　must　have　some　more　whiskey。'　'Oh！　you're　right；'　says　Arthur；　'my　love！　My　daffy…down…dilly！　my　dove！　My　everything！　my　wife！　I　ne'er　was　so　pleased　in　my　life；　Since　my　name　it　was　Arthur　O'Bradley！'　O！　rare　Arthur　O'Bradley！　wonderful　Arthur　O'Bradley！　Sweet　Arthur　O'Bradley；　O！

Then　the　piper　he　screwed　up　his　bags；　And　the　girls　began　shaking　their　rags；　First　up　jumped　old　Mother　Crewe；　Two　stockings；　and　never　a　shoe。　Her