XI.

LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD.

This ballad is ancient, and has been popular; we find it quoted in many old plays. See Beaum. and Fletcher's _Knight of the Burning Pestle_, 4to. 1613, act v. sc. iii. _The Varietie, a comedy_, 12mo. 1649, act iv. &c. In Sir William Davenant's play, _The Witts_, a. iii. a gallant thus boasts of himself:

"Limber and sound! besides I sing Musgrave, And for Chevy-chace no lark comes near me."

In the Pepys _Collection_, vol. iii. p. 314, is an imitation of this old song, in 33 stanzas, by a more modern pen, with many alterations, but evidently for the worse.

This is given from an old printed copy in the British Museum, with corrections; some of which are from a fragment in the Editor's folio MS. It is also printed in Dryden's _Collection of Miscellaneous_ _Poems_.

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[The copy of this ballad in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 119) is a mutilated fragment consisting of only ten complete stanzas and three half ones. The oldest entire copy is to be found in _Wit Restor'd_, 1658, where it is called _the_ old _ballad of little Musgrave_, which is given by Professor Child (_English and Scottish Ballads_, vol. ii. p. 15) in preference to Percy's. This version, not very exactly transcribed, is printed in Dryden's _Miscellany Poems_ (1716, vol. iii. 312), and Ritson (_Ancient Songs and Ballads_, vol. ii. p. 116) copied it from thence. Ritson writes of one of Percy's statements above: "Dr. Percy indeed, by some mistake, gives it as from an old printed copy in the British Museum; observing that 'In the Pepys collection is an imitation of this old song in a different measure, by a more modern pen, with many alterations, but evidently for the worse.' It is very true, and not less so that the only copies in the museum (for there are two) are more recent impressions of this identical _imitation_."

It is the 14th stanza slightly altered which is quoted in the _Knight of the Burning Pestle_.

"And some they whistled, and some they sung, Hey down down! And some did loudly say Ever as Lord Barnet's horn blew, Away Musgrave, away."

There are several Scottish versions, in which the reciters have altered the locality. Jamieson has printed one which he calls _Lord Barnaby_ (_Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 170). He states that he had heard it repeated both in Morayshire and in the southern counties.

Motherwell gives the air in his _Minstrelsy_ which he noted down from oral communication, and this verse--

"It fell upon a Martinmas time When the nobles were a drinking wine, That little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did go For to see the ladies come in."

Mr. J. H. Dixon includes a version entitled _Lord Burnett and_ _Little Munsgrove_ in his Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads (Percy Society, vol. xvii.)

Home adopted the name of Lady Barnard in his _Douglas_ before he took that of Lady Randolph, see No. 18, Gil Morrice.

There is another ballad called _The Bonny Birdy_, with a similar story. Jamieson (i. 162) prints it and alters the title to _Lord_ _Randal_.]

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As it fell out on a highe holye daye, As many bee in the yeare, When yong men and maides together do goe Their masses and mattins to heare,

Little Musgràve came to the church door, 5 The priest was at the mass; But he had more mind of the fine womèn, Then he had of our Ladyes grace.

And some of them were clad in greene, And others were clad in pall; 10 And then came in my lord Barnardes wife, The fairest among them all.

Shee cast an eye on little Musgràve As bright as the summer sunne: O then bethought him little Musgràve, 15 This ladyes heart I have wonne.

Quoth she, I have loved thee, little Musgràve, Fulle long and manye a daye. So have I loved you, ladye faire, Yet word I never durst saye. 20

I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,[225] Full daintilye bedight, If thoult wend thither, my little Musgràve, Thoust lig in mine armes all night.

Quoth hee, I thanke yee, ladye faire, 25 This kindness yee shew to mee; And whether it be to my weale or woe, This night will I lig with thee.

All this beheard a litle foot-page, By his ladyes coach as he ranne: 30 Quoth he, thoughe I am my ladyes page, Yet Ime my lord Barnardes manne.

My lord Barnàrd shall knowe of this, Although I lose a limbe. And ever whereas the bridges were broke, 35 He layd him downe to swimme.

Asleep or awake, thou lord Barnàrd, As thou art a man of life, Lo! this same night at Bucklesford-Bury Litle Musgrave's in bed with thy wife. 40

If it be trew, thou litle foote-page, This tale thou hast told to mee, Then all my lands in Bucklesford-Bury I freelye will give to thee.

But and it be a lye, thou litle foot-page, 45 This tale thou hast told to mee, On the highest tree in Bucklesford-Bury All hanged shalt thou bee.

Rise up, rise up, my merry men all, And saddle me my good steede; 50 This night must I to Bucklesford-bury; God wott, I had never more neede.

Then some they whistled, and some they sang, And some did loudlye saye, Whenever lord Barnardes horne it blewe, 55 Awaye, Musgràve, away.

Methinkes I heare the throstle cocke, Methinkes I heare the jay, Methinkes I heare lord Barnards home; I would I were awaye. 60

Lye still, lye still, thou little Musgràve, And huggle me from the cold; For it is but some shephardes boye A whistling his sheepe to the fold.[226]

Is not thy hawke upon the pearche, 65 Thy horse eating corne and haye? And thou a gay lady within thine armes: And wouldst thou be awaye?

By this lord Barnard was come to the dore, And lighted upon a stone: 70 And he pulled out three silver keyes, And opened the dores eche one.

He lifted up the coverlett, He lifted up the sheete; How now, how now, thou little Musgràve, 75 Dost find my gaye ladye sweete?

I find her sweete, quoth little Musgràve, The more is my griefe and paine; Ide gladlye give three hundred poundes That I were on yonder plaine. 80

Arise, arise, thou little Musgràve, And put thy cloathes nowe on, It shall never be said in my countree, That I killed a naked man.

I have two swordes in one scabbàrde, 85 Full deare they cost my purse; And thou shalt have the best of them, And I will have the worse.

The first stroke that little Musgrave strucke, He hurt lord Barnard sore; 90 The next stroke that lord Barnard strucke, Little Musgrave never strucke more.

With that bespake the ladye faire, In bed whereas she laye, Althoughe thou art dead, my little Musgràve, 95 Yet for thee I will praye:

And wishe well to thy soule will I, So long as I have life; So will I not do for thee, Barnàrd, Thoughe I am thy wedded wife. 100

He cut her pappes from off her brest; Great pitye it was to see The drops of this fair ladyes bloode Run trickling downe her knee.

Wo worth, wo worth ye, my merrye men all, 105 You never were borne for my goode: Why did you not offer to stay my hande, When you sawe me wax so woode?[227]

For I have slaine the fairest sir knighte, That ever rode on a steede; 110 So have I done the fairest lady, That ever ware womans weede.[228]

A grave, a grave, Lord Barnard cryde, To putt these lovers in; But lay my ladye o' the upper hande, 115 For she comes o' the better kin.

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[+±+] That the more modern copy is to be dated about the middle of the last century, will be readily conceived from the tenor of the concluding stanza, viz.

"This sad Mischief by Lust was wrought; Then let us call for Grace, That we may shun the wicked vice, And fly from Sin a-pace."

FOOTNOTES:

[225] Bucklefield-berry, fol. MS.

[226] Ver. 64. Is whistling sheepe ore the mold, fol. MS.

[227] [wildly angry.]

[228] [See the last stanza of _Childe Maurice_ from Folio MS., book i. No. 18, which is almost identical with this.]