This pathetic tale,' which, whether viewed as a pic. ture of human emotions under circumstances applicable to all times, or as a noble and discriminating tribute to the English national character of the seventeenth century, is,' says a writer in the Edinburgh Review for April, 1846, 'one of the most remarkable and perfect compositions of its class,' is taken from Percy's Reliques,' where it was 'printed from an old black-letter copy, corrected in part by the editor's folio MS.' A copy in black letter, printed by and for W.[illiam] O.[nley] and Sold by the booksellers of Pye-corner and London Bridge;' and another, in Roman character, are in the Roxburghe Collection, in the British Museum. It most probably took its rise,' says Percy, 'from one of those descents made on the Spanish coast in the time of Queen Elizabeth: and in all likelihood, from that which is celebrated in the ballad,' entitled The Winning of Cales' (Cadiz), by Lord Essex, in 1596. Of its authorship, nothing, it has been remarked, appears to be known. Nor are we informed, says a critic in the Quarterly Review for October, 1846, when or where the events took place, nor who were the principal characters; and consequently, as seven cities in Greece disputed the honour of having given birth to Homer, some half dozen counties in England have claimed, each for her own special honour, the hero of this song.' On this subject, farther information will be found in the note, p. 302.]

ILL you hear a Spanish lady,

How she wooed an English man? Garments gay as rich as may be

Decked with jewels she had on.

Of a comely countenance and grace was she, And by birth and parentage of high degree.

300

As his prisoner there he kept her,
In his hands her life did lye;
Cupid's bands did tye them faster
By the liking of an eye.

In his courteous company was all her joy,
To favour him in any thing she was not coy.

But at last there came commandment

For to set the ladies free,
With their jewels still adorned,

None to do them injury.

Then said this lady mild, 'Full woe is me;

O, let me still sustain this kind captivity!

Gallant captain, shew some pity
To a ladye in distresse;
Leave me not within this city,

For to dye in heavinesse:

Thou hast set this present day my body free,
But my heart in prison still remains with thee.'

'How should'st thou, fair lady, love me,
Whom thou knowst thy country's foe?
Thy fair wordes make me suspect thee:
Serpents lie where flowers grow.'

" All the harm I wishe to thee, most courteous knight,
God grant the same upon my head may fully light!

Blessed be the time and season,

That you came on Spanish ground;

If our foes you may be termed,

Gentle foes we have you found:

With our city, you have won our hearts eche one,
Then to your country bear away, that is your owne.'

'Rest you still, most gallant lady;

Rest you still, and weep no more;

Of fair lovers there is plenty,

Spain doth yield a wondrous store.'

Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find,

But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind.

Leave me not unto a Spaniard,

You alone enjoy my heart;

I am lovely, young, and tender,

Love is likewise my desert:

Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest;

The wife of every Englishman is counted blest."'

'It wold be a shame, fair lady,
For to bear a woman hence;
English soldiers never carry
Any such without offence.'

'I'll quickly change myself, if it be so,

And like a page Ile follow thee, where'er thou go.

'I have neither gold nor silver To maintain thee in this case, And to travel is great charges,

As you know, in every place.'

'My chains and jewels every one shal be thy own, And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown.'

'On the seas are many dangers,

Many storms do there arise, Which wil be to ladies dreadful,

And force tears from watery eyes.'

'Well! in troth, I shall endure extremity,

For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee.'

'Courteous ladye, leave this fancy,

Here comes all that breeds the strife;

I in England have already

A sweet woman to my wife:

I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain,

Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain.'

'O! how happy is that woman

That enjoys so true a friend! Many happy days God send her!

Of my suit I make an end:

On my knees I pardon crave for my offence,

Which did from love and true affection first commence.

Commend me to thy lovely lady,

Bear to her this chain of gold;
And these bracelets for a token;
Grieving that I was so bold.

All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee,
For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me.

I will spend my days in prayer,
Love and all her laws defye;
In a nunnery will I shroud mee

Far from any companye:

But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this,
To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.

301

Thus farewell, most gallant captain!
Farewell too my heart's content!
Count not Spanish ladies wanton,

Though to thee my love was bent:
Joy and true prosperity goe still with thee!'

'The like fall ever to thy share, most fair ladie.'

['It was a tradition in the West of England,' says Percy, that the person admired by the Spanish lady was a gentleman of the Popham family, and that her picture, with the pearl necklace mentioned in the ballad, was, not many years ago, preserved at Littlecot, near Hungerford, Wilts, the seat of that respectable family. Another tradition hath pointed out Sir Richard Levison, of Trentham, in Staffordshire, as the subject of this ballad; who married Margaret, daughter of Charles, Earl of Nottingham; and was eminently distinguished as a naval officer and commander, in all the expeditions against the Spaniards, in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, particularly in that to Cadiz, in 1596, when he was aged 27. He died in 1605, and has a monument, with his effigy in brass, in Wolverhampton church.' In the Edinburgh Review, No. 168, April, 1846, the writer, speaking of the uncertainty there is about both the traditions relative to the supposed actors in the scene of this ballad, as given by Percy, says, 'Had the necklace been still extant, the preference would have been due to Littlecot; but, as that piece of evidence had disappeared before Percy's time, we own we incline to prefer the claim of the Admiral to that of the gentleman of the Popham family.'' This produced a letter, which appeared in The Times' of April 30th, 1846, in which the writer, who signs himself 'Charles Lee,' and dates from 'Coldrey, Hants,' affirms that the necklace is still extant, in the possession of a member of my family, and in the house from whence I write.' 'The hero,' he goes on to say, 'of this beautiful ballad was my ancestor, Sir John Bolle, of Thorpe Hall, Lincolnshire, of most ancient and loyal family, and father of that Col. Bolle, who fell in Alton Church, whilst fighting against the rebels, in December, 1643. Of the truth of this I am prepared to give to the curious in these matters the most abundant evidence.' Mr. Lee then refers to Illingworth's 'Topographical Account of Scampton, with Anecdotes of the Family of Bolles,' in which work it is stated, he says, that 'the portrait of Sir John, drawn in 1596, at the age of 36 years, having on the gold chain given him by the Spanish lady, &c., is still in the possession of his descendant, Captain Birch.' 'That portrait,' says Mr. Lee, 'is now in the possession of Captain Birch's successor, Thomas Bosvill Bosvill, Esq., of Ravenfield Park, Yorkshire, and may be seen by any one.' Mr. Lee then adds, from Illingworth, On Sir John Bolle's departure from Cadiz, the Spanish lady sent, as presents to his wife, a profusion of jewels and other valuables, amongst which was her portrait, drawn in green, plate, money, and other treasure. Some articles are still in the possession of the family, though her picture was unfortunately, and by accident, disposed of about half a century since. This portrait being drawn in green, gave occasion to her being called in the neighbourhood of Thorpe Hall, the green lady,' where, to this day, there is a traditionary superstition among the vulgar, that Thorpe Hall was haunted by the green lady, who used nightly to take her seat in a particular tree near the mansion.' Mr. Lee concludes his interesting letter, by mentioning, that in Illingworth there is a long and full account of the Spanish lady, and the ballad given at length.'

The ballad would appear to have been always popular; and, like The Nut-Brown Maid,' has found imitators among more modern poets. The reader of Shenstone, if, indeed, ‘in these degenerate days' he have any readers, will remember the Moral Tale, as he calls it, entitled 'Love and Honour,' in which, to use his own words, he brought out the Spanish Ladye and her Knight' in less grovelling accents than the simple guise of ancient record;' while no one --for who does not read him ?—will require to be reminded of Wordsworth's 'Armenian Lady's Love,' in which he has been eloquently said (Ed. Rev.) to have imitated the purity of sentiment, the expressive transitions of dialogue, and the peculiar melody of versification,' of 'The Spanish Lady's Love.']

Sir Hugh le Blond.

[From Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.'-' This ballad,' says Sir Walter, 'is a northern composition, and seems to have been the original of the legend called Sir Aldingar, which is printed in the Reliques of Antient Poetry. The names of Aldingar and Rodingham approach near to each other in sound, though not in orthography, and the one might, by reciters, be easily substituted for the other. I think I have seen both the name and the story in an ancient prose chronicle, but am unable to make any reference in support of my belief. The tradition upon which the ballad is founded, is universally current in the Mearns; and the editor is informed that, till very lately, the sword with which Sir Hugh le Blond was believed to have defended the life and honour of the queen, was carefully preserved by his descendants, the viscounts of Arbuthnot.

'I was favoured with the following copy of Sir Hugh le Blond by K. Williamson Burnet, Esq. of Monboddo, who wrote it down from the recitation of an old woman, long in the service of the Arbuthnot family. Of course the diction is very much humbled, and it has, in all probability, undergone many corruptions; but its antiquity is indubitable, and the story, though indifferently told, is in itself interesting. It is believed that there have been many more verses.']

THE birds sang sweet as ony bell,

The world had not their make,
The

queen she's gone to her chamber,
With Rodingham to talk.

'I love you well, my queen, my dame
'Bove land and rents so clear,
And for the love of you, my queen,

Would thole pain most severe.'

If well you love me, Rodingham,
I'm sure so I do thee:

I love you well as any man,

Save the king's fair bodye.'

'I love you well, my queen, my dame;
'Tis truth that I do tell:

And for to lye a night with you,

The salt seas I would sail.'

'Away, away, O Rodingham!
You are both stark and stoor;
Would you defile the king's own bed,
And make his queen a whore?

'To-morrow you'd be taken sure,
And like a traitor slain;
And I'd be burned at a stake,

Although I be the queen.'