XVI.

THE KING OF FRANCE'S DAUGHTER.

The story of this ballad seems to be taken from an incident in the domestic history of Charles the Bald, king of France. His daughter Judith was betrothed to Ethelwulph king of England: but before the marriage was consummated, Ethelwulph died, and she returned to France: whence she was carried off by Baldwyn, Forester of Flanders; who, after many crosses and difficulties, at length obtained the king's consent to their marriage, and was made Earl of Flanders. This happened about A.D. 863.--See Rapin, Henault, and the French historians.

The following copy is given from the Editor's ancient folio MS. collated with another in black-letter in the Pepys Collection, intitled, _An excellent Ballad of a prince of England's courtship to the king of France's daughter, &c._ To the tune of _Crimson Velvet_.

Many breaches having been made in this old song by the hand of time, principally (as might be expected) in the quick returns of the rhime; an attempt is here made to repair them.

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[This ballad was written by Thomas Deloney, who included it in his _Garland of Goodwill_ (Percy Society, vol. xxx. p. 52). It is, as Percy points out, founded on history, but Deloney paid little attention to facts. All the first part of the poem, which tells of the miserable end of the English prince of suitable age to the young French princess, is fiction. Judith was Ethelwulf's wife for about two years, and on the death of her husband she married his son Ethelbert. The only historical fact that is followed in the ballad is the marriage of Judith with Baldwin, Great Forester of France, from which union descended Matilda, the wife of William the Conqueror.

The copy in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. iii. p. 441) is entitled "In the Dayes of Olde." Percy altered it considerably, sometimes following the printed copy and sometimes the MS.

Mr. Hales suggests that the name of the tune is derived from the dress of the princess, described in vv. 185-6,--

"Their mothers riche array Was of crimson velvet,"

and Mr. Chappell agrees with him.]

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In the dayes of old, When faire France did flourish, Storyes plaine have told, Lovers felt annoye. The queene a daughter bare, 5 Whom beautye's queene did nourish: She was lovelye faire She was her father's joye. A prince of England came, Whose deeds did merit fame, 10 But he was exil'd, and outcast: Love his soul did fire, Shee granted his desire, Their hearts in one were linked fast. Which when her father proved, 15 Sorelye he was moved, And tormented in his minde. He sought for to prevent them; And, to discontent them, Fortune cross'd these lovers kinde. 20

When these princes twaine Were thus barr'd of pleasure, Through the kinges disdaine, Which their joyes withstoode: The lady soone prepar'd 25 Her jewells and her treasure; Having no regard For state and royall bloode; In homelye poore array She went from court away, 30 To meet her joye and hearts delight; Who in a forest great Had taken up his seat, To wayt her coming in the night. But, lo! what sudden danger 35 To this princely stranger Chanced, as he sate alone! By outlawes he was robbed, And with ponyards stabbed, Uttering many a dying grone. 40

The princesse, arm'd by love, And by chaste desire, All the night did rove Without dread at all: Still unknowne she past 45 In her strange attire; Coming at the last Within echoes call,-- You faire woods, quoth shee, Honoured may you bee, 50 Harbouring my heart's delight; Which encompass here My joye and only deare, My trustye friend, and comelye knight. Sweete, I come unto thee, 55 Sweete, I come to woo thee; That thou mayst not angry bee For my long delaying; For thy curteous staying Soone amendes Ile make to thee. 60

Passing thus alone Through the silent forest, Many a grievous grone Sounded in her eares: She heard one complayne 65 And lament the sorest, Seeming all in payne, Shedding deadly teares. Farewell, my deare, quoth hee, Whom I must never see; 70 For why my life is att an end, Through villaines crueltye: For thy sweet sake I dye, To show I am a faithfull friend. Here I lye a bleeding, 75 While my thoughts are feeding On the rarest beautye found. O hard happ, that may be! Little knows my ladye My heartes blood lyes on the ground. 80

With that a grone he sends Which did burst in sunder All the tender bands Of his gentle heart. She, who knewe his voice, 85 At his wordes did wonder; All her former joyes Did to griefe convert. Strait she ran to see, Who this man shold bee, 90 That soe like her love did seeme:

Her lovely lord she found Lye slaine upon the ground, Smear'd with gore a ghastlye streame. Which his lady spying, 95 Shrieking, fainting, crying, Her sorrows could not uttered bee: Fate, she cryed, too cruell: For thee--my dearest jewell, Would God! that I had dyed for thee. 100

His pale lippes, alas! Twentye times she kissed, And his face did wash With her trickling teares: Every gaping wound 105 Tenderlye she pressed, And did wipe it round With her golden haires. Speake, faire love, quoth shee, Speake, fair prince, to mee, 110 One sweete word of comfort give: Lift up thy deare eyes, Listen to my cryes, Thinke in what sad griefe I live. All in vain she sued, 115 All in vain she wooed, The prince's life was fled and gone. There stood she still mourning, Till the suns retourning, And bright day was coming on. 120

In this great distresse Weeping, wayling ever, Oft shee cryed, alas! What will become of mee? To my fathers court 125 I returne will never: But in lowlye sort I will a servant bee. While thus she made her mone, Weeping all alone, 130 In this deepe and deadlye feare: A for'ster all in greene, Most comelye to be seene, Ranging the woods did find her there. Moved with her sorrowe, 135 Maid, quoth hee, good morrowe, What hard happ has brought thee here? Harder happ did never Two kinde hearts dissever: Here lyes slaine my brother deare. 140

Where may I remaine, Gentle for'ster, shew me, 'Till I can obtaine A service in my neede? Paines I will not spare: 145 This kinde favour doe me, It will ease my care; Heaven shall be thy meede. The for'ster all amazed, On her beautye gazed, 150 Till his heart was set on fire. If, faire maid, quoth hee, You will goe with mee, You shall have your hearts desire. He brought her to his mother, 155 And above all other He sett forth this maidens praise. Long was his heart inflamed, At length her love he gained, And fortune crown'd his future dayes. 160

Thus unknowne he wedde With a kings faire daughter; Children seven they had, 'Ere she told her birth. Which when once he knew, 165 Humblye he besought her, He to the world might shew Her rank and princelye worth. He cloath'd his children then, (Not like other men) 170 In partye-colours strange to see; The right side cloth of gold, The left side to behold, Of woollen cloth still framed hee[386]. Men thereat did wonder; 175 Golden fame did thunder This strange deede in every place: The king of France came thither, It being pleasant weather, In those woods the hart to chase. 180

The children then they bring, So their mother will'd it, Where the royall king Must of force come bye: Their mothers riche array, 185 Was of crimson velvet: Their fathers all of gray, Seemelye to the eye. Then this famous king, Noting every thing, 190 Askt how he durst be so bold To let his wife soe weare, And decke his children there In costly robes of pearl and gold. The forrester replying, 195 And the cause descrying[387], To the king these words did say, Well may they, by their mother, Weare rich clothes with other, Being by birth a princesse gay. 200

The king aroused thus, More heedfullye beheld them, Till a crimson blush His remembrance crost. The more I fix my mind 205 On thy wife and children, The more methinks I find The daughter which I lost. Falling on her knee, I am that child, quoth shee; 210 Pardon mee, my soveraine liege. The king perceiving this, His daughter deare did kiss, While joyfull teares did stopp his speeche. With his traine he tourned, 215 And with them sojourned. Strait he dubb'd her husband knight; Then made him erle of Flanders, And chiefe of his commanders: Thus were their sorrowes put to flight. 220

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FOOTNOTES:

[386] This will remind the reader of the livery and device of Charles Brandon, a private gentleman, who married the Queen Dowager of France, sister of Henry VIII. At a tournament which he held at his wedding, the trappings of his horse were half Cloth of gold, and half Frieze, with the following Motto:--

"Cloth of Gold, do not despise, Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Frize, Cloth of Frize, be not too bold, Tho' thou art matcht with Cloth of Gold."

See Sir W. Temple's _Misc._ vol. iii. p. 356.

[387] _i.e._ describing.