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. ”
