Summary

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry…

Hast thou not heard, nowe, Henrye Hunt,
As thou hast sayled by daye and by night,
Of a Scottish rover on the seas; [584]
Men call him sir Andrew Barton, knight?
Then ever he sighed, and sayd alas! 85
With a grieved mind, and well away!
But over-well I knowe that wight,
I was his prisoner yesterday.
As I was sayling uppon the sea,
A Burdeaux voyage for to fare; 90
To his hach-borde he clasped me, [590]
And robd me of all my merchant ware:
And mickle debts, Got wot, I owe,
And every man will have his owne;
And I am nowe to London bounde, 95
Of our gracious king to beg a boone.
Source: Gutenberg

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry…

Our poet, with the honest prejudices of an Englishman, attributes this failure to the advice of the king of France, whose daughter Isabel, the young monarch, who succeeded, immediately married. But the truth is, Edward and his destructive favourite, Piers Gaveston, spent the money upon their pleasures. To do the greater honour to the memory of his heroe, our poet puts his eloge in the mouth of the Pope, with the same poetic licence as a more modern bard would have introduced Britannia or the Genius of Europe pouring forth his praises.
Source: Gutenberg

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry…

May bid me seek on Yarrow's Braes
My luver nailed in his coffin.
My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid,
And strive with threatning words to muve me:
My luver's blood is on thy spear, 95
How canst thou ever bid me luve thee?
Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve,
With bridal sheets my body cover,
Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door,
Let in the expected husband lover. 100
But who the expected husband husband is?
Source: Gutenberg

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