The Ballads and Songs of Yorkshire

The present work is a selection from the Ballads and Songs of my native county, and I trust the publication may not be deemed an unacceptable offering. In a polished age like the present, I am sensible that many of the productions of our county bards will require great allowances to be made for them. Yet have they, for the most part, a pleasing simplicity, and artless grace, which, in the opinion of such writers as Addison, Dryden, Percy, and others, have been thought to compensate for the want of higher beauties; and, in the words of the latter, "If they do not dazzle the imagination, they are frequently found to interest the heart."

Wherever I have had an opportunity, I have collated my copies with the earliest editions, retaining in the notes, in many places, the different readings, the text in modern editions being materially changed and frequently deteriorated. I have omitted pieces from the pens of Scott, Wordsworth, Rogers, and other modern writers, whose works may be assumed to be in the reader's possession. Another class, the last dying confessions of criminals, &c., have been, with few exceptions, left out, as more appropriate for a separate volume. I trust, however, in what is retained will be found every variety:—

"From grave to gay, from lively to severe."

And should the reader receive one half the pleasure in perusing the contents, that has been afforded in collecting, I shall be perfectly satisfied.

In the notes prefixed to the Ballads and Songs, I have acknowledged my obligations to the friends who have so kindly assisted me, but cannot allow this opportunity to pass without again expressing my sincere thanks to Edward Hailstone, esq., F.S.A., Charles Jackson, esq., and others who have manifested so great an interest in the work.

North Allerton,
May, 1860.

By the Rev. Mr. Ball.

This ballad is supposed to be written by Mordrid, chief of the bards, in the reign of Edwin, king of Northumberland, whose son Offa was slain in the battle of Hatfield Wood, near Doncaster, A.D. 633. It concludes with the words of the bard. Rapin says, on Hatfield Heath a bloody battle was fought between Ceadwalla, king of the Britons, and Penda, the Pagan king of Mercia, against Edwin, the first Christian king of Northumberland, in which Edwin and Offrido his eldest son were slain.

A LEGENDARY TALE OF WHITBY ABBEY.

By William Watkins.

Oswy, king of Northumberland, being engaged in war with Penda, the Pagan king of Mercia, he vowed that, should he come off victorious, his daughter should dedicate herself to the service of God by a life of celibacy, and that he would give twelve of his mansions for the erection of monasteries. Being successful, Oswy, in order to fulfil his vow, placed his daughter Ethelfleda, then scarcely a year old, as a nun in the monastery called Hertesie (Stag Island), of which Lady Hilda, niece of Edwin, first Christian king of Northumberland, was abbess; and having procured ten hides of land, in the place called Streanshalle (Whitby), built there in 657, a monastery for men and women of the Benedictine order, which was dedicated to St. Peter, and Lady Hilda appointed the first abbess. This lady was so famous for her sanctity that she attained the name of St. Hilda, and the monastery, though dedicated to St. Peter, is generally called after her. This abbey continued to flourish till about the year 867, when a party of Danes, under Hinguar and Hubba, landed at Dunsley Bay, the Dunus Sinus of Ptolemy, plundered the country around, and amongst other depredations entirely destroyed the monastery. About this period the tale is supposed to commence; the succeeding incidents are all fictitious, and were dictated to the author, in some measure, by the romantic situation of the abbey, (magnificent in ruin,) which is exceedingly proper for such events.

This monastery lay in ruins till after the conquest, when king William assigned Whitby to Hugh de Abrincis, who disposed of the place to William de Percy, by whom the monastery was refounded about 1074, and dedicated to St. Peter and St. Hilda. In the reign of Henry VIII. this house shared the fate of the other monastic establishments; and its yearly revenues, according to Dugdale, were £437 2s. 9d.; and £505 9s. 1d., according to Speed.

In the year 1138, David, king of Scotland, invaded the north of England with a numerous army, in aid of the claim of the empress Matilda, his niece, against king Stephen. The fury of his massacres and ravages enraged the northern barons, who assembled an army and encamped near Northallerton. On Monday the 22nd of August, 1138, the standard was raised on Cowton Moor, three miles north of Northallerton, and after a severe contest the Scots were defeated and ten thousand of their number slain; the rest, with king David and prince Henry his son, retreated with difficulty to Carlisle. This engagement is sometimes called the Battle of Northallerton, but generally the Battle of the Standard, from a long pole,

which Thurstan, archbishop of York, brought from the convent of Beverley. This was drawn on a four-wheeled carriage; and had on the top of it a silver crucifix, under which were suspended the banners of St. Peter of York, St. John of Beverley, and St. Wilfred of Ripon, and above all, in a silver pix, the consecrated host. The following ballad was first printed, by Mr. Evans, in 1784.

Robin Hood, a celebrated English outlaw, was born at Locksley, in the county of Nottingham, in the reign of Henry II. about 1160. He is said to have been of noble extraction, being the son of William Fitzooth by his wife a daughter of Payn Beauchamp, baron of Bedford, and lady Roisia de Vere, daughter of Aubrey, earl of Guisnes in Normandy,[11] and is frequently styled earl of Huntingdon—a title to which, in the latter part of his life, he actually appears to have had some sort of pretension. In his youth he is said to have been of a wild and extravagant turn; insomuch that, his inheritance being consumed, and his person outlawed for debt,[12] he sought an asylum in the woods of Barnsdale, in Yorkshire,[13] Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire, and, according to some, Plumpton-park, in Cumberland.[14] He either found or was afterwards joined by a number of persons, the principal being Little John (whose surname is said to have been Nailor), William Scadlock (Scathelock or Scarlet), George a Green (pinder or pound-keeper of Wakefield), Much (a miller's son), and a certain monk or friar called Tuck. "These renowned thieves," says Stowe, "continued in the woods, despoiling and robbing the goods of the rich. They killed none but such as would invade them, or by resistance for their own defence. The said Robin entertained 100 tall men, good archers, with such of the spoils and thefts as he got, upon whom 400 (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset. He suffered no woman to be oppressed, violated, or otherwise molested; poor men's goods he spared, abundantly relieving them with that which by theft he got from abbeys and the houses of rich old carles." He died in 1247; see Robin Hood's Death and Burial, post.

Guy of Gisborne,—the only other memorial which I can find relating to him is in an old satirical piece by William Dunbar, a celebrated Scottish poet, of the fifteenth century,[15] on one "Schir Thomas Nory," where he is named along with our hero, Adam Bell, and other worthies, it is conjectured, of a similar stamp, but whose merits have not come to the knowledge of posterity:—

Gisborne, or Gisburne, is a market town in the west-riding of Yorkshire, on the borders of Lancashire.

The following ballad was first printed in Percy's Reliques in 1765, from his "folio MS."

With Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.

Several lines of this ballad are quoted in the two old plays of the "Downfall," and "Death of Robert, earl of Huntington," 1601, 4to., black letter, but acted many years before. It is also alluded to in Shakespeare's "Merry Wives of Windsor," Act I. Scene 1; and again, in his second part of "King Henry IV." Act V. Scene 3.

Or, Robin Hood's Preferment.

From three old black-letter copies; one in the collection of Anthony à Wood, another in the British Museum, and the third in a private collection.

The Curtal Friar here mentioned is undoubtedly the person so frequently occurring in the ballads, as one of the companions of Robin Hood, under the name of Friar Tuck. He is thus mentioned by Skelton, laureate, in his "Goodly Interlude of Magnificence," written about the year 1500, and with an evident allusion to some game now forgotten:—

The Curtal Friars were named, according to Dr. Stukeley, from the cord or rope which they wore round their waist, to whip themselves with, and were of the Franciscan order. Our friar is undoubtedly so called from his curtal dogs, or curs as we now call them, for in fact he was not a friar, but a monk of Fountains Abbey, which was of the Cistercian order. Robin Hood's bow is said by Ray to have been preserved in Fountains Abbey.[35]

The following ballad is from an old black-letter copy in the collection of A. à Wood, corrected by a much earlier one in the Pepysian library, printed by H. Gosson, circa 1610.

"Along on the lift hond," says Leland, "a iii. miles of betwixt Milburne and Feribridge, I saw the wooddi and famose forrest of Barnesdale;[38] wher thay say that Robyn Hudde lyvid like an outlaw."[39] This ballad is supposed to be modern, from the Aldermary church-yard press, compared with the York copy.

Robin Hood having for a long period, maintained a sort of independent sovereignty, and set kings, judges, and magistrates at defiance, a proclamation was published offering a considerable reward for bringing him either dead or alive; which, however, appears to have been productive of no greater success than former attempts for that purpose.[40] At length, the infirmities of old age increasing, and desirous to be relieved, in a fit of sickness, by being bled, he applied for that purpose to the prioress of Kirklees nunnery, in the parish of Dewsbury, W. R. of Yorkshire.[41] From the Sloane MS. we learn "that being dystempered with could and age, he had great payne in his lymmes, his bloud being corrupted, therefore, to be eased of his payne by letting bloud, he repayred to the priores of Kyrkesly, which some say was his aunt, a woman very skylful in physique and surgery; who, perceyving him to be Robyn Hood, and waying howe fel an enimy he was to religious persons, toke revenge of him for her owne howse and all others by letting him bleed to death." This event happened in the 31st of Henry III. (1247), and, if the date assigned to his birth be correct, about the 87th year of his age. He was interred under some trees, at a short distance from the precinct of the nunnery, a stone being placed over his grave.[42]

The following inscription over his remains, preserved by Dr. Gale, dean of York, Thoresby says, was "scarce legible," and Dr. Whitaker seems to think spurious:—

Hear undernead dis laitl stean
laiz Robert earl of Huntingtun
near arcir ver az hie sa geud
an pipl kauld im Robin Heud
sick utlawz az hi an iz men
vil England nivr si agen.
Obiit 24 Kal. Dekembris 1247.[43]

A statue of this renowned free-booter, large as life, leaning on his unbent bow, with a quiver of arrows, and a sword by his side, formerly stood on one side the entrance into Kirklees Hall.

This ballad is preserved solely in the editions of "Robin Hood's Garland," printed at York, where it is made to conclude with some foolish lines, (adopted from the London copy of a ballad, called "Robin Hood and Valiant Knight,") in order to introduce the epitaph.

The origin of this quarrel is not very clear, neither is it certain the time when this ballad was written. It is said that one Exley had killed the brother's son of sir John Eland, and that a relative, sir Robert Beaumont, screened him from the resentment of sir John, also that the affair was, in some measure, made up, sir John Eland having accepted of a compensation in lieu of justice being done upon the murderer, but that he afterwards violated the agreement; whereupon sir John got together a considerable number of armed men, and in one night, in the month of May, put to death the said sir Robert, and two old gentlemen, his near relatives, Hugh de Quarmby and John de Lockwood. This is so far confirmed by the Hopkinson MSS. in the possession of Mrs. Richardson Currer of Eshton hall, wherein it says, "that with sir Robert Beaumont were slain his brother William, and ... Exley, who had killed the brother's son of sir John Eland." This manner of executing private revenge, according to Brady, in his "History of the Reign of King Stephen," was brought from Normandy to England:—"If any earl, or great man, found himself aggrieved by another, they frequently got together all their men at arms, or knights that held of them, their other tenants and poor dependants, and as much assistance from their friends and confederates as they could, and burnt one another's castles and houses, &c."

By John Bird.

William de Meschines and Cecily de Romille his wife, founders of Embsay Priory, (says Dr. Whitaker,) were now dead, and had left a daughter, Alice, who adopted her mother's name, Romille, and was married to William Fitz-Duncan, nephew of David, king of Scotland. They had issue a son, commonly called the Boy of Egremond,[58] who, surviving an elder brother, became the last hope of the family.

In the deep solitude of the woods, betwixt Bolton and Barden, in Craven, four miles up the river, the Wharfe suddenly contracts itself to a rocky channel, little more than four feet wide, and pours through the tremendous fissure with a rapidity proportioned to its confinement. The place was then, as it is yet, called the Strid, from a feat often exercised by persons of more agility than prudence, who stride from brink to brink, regardless of the destruction which awaits a faltering step. Such was the fate of young Romille, who inconsiderately bounded over the chasm, with a greyhound in his leash, the animal hung back and drew his unfortunate master into the torrent. The misfortune is said to have occasioned the translation of the priory from Embsay to Bolton, which was the nearest eligible site to the place where it happened.

This priory existed upwards of four hundred years, when it was surrendered by Richard Moon, the prior, and fourteen of his brethren, on the 26th Jan. 1540. On the 3rd April, 1542, the site was granted to Henry Clifford, first earl of Cumberland, but nineteen days before his death, for the sum of 2,490l; from him it has descended to the present owner, the duke of Devonshire.

Richard II., son of the Black Prince, was born in 1366, and succeeded his grandfather Edward III., on the throne of England, 1377; murdered in 1392. Historians differ with regard to the manner in which he was murdered. It was long the prevailing opinion that sir Piers Exton, and others of his guards, fell upon him in Pontefract castle, and that the king, wresting a pole-axe from one of the murderers, soon laid four of their number dead at his feet; but at length being overpowered, he was struck dead with a blow of a pole-axe.

But it is more probable that he was starved to death; and after all sustenance was denied him, he prolonged his unhappy life, it is said, for a fortnight, before he reached the end of his miseries. This account is more consistent with the story that his body was exposed in public, and that no marks of violence were found upon it.

This curious ballad was first published in Dr. Whitaker's "History of Craven," in 1805, but, from an inaccurate manuscript, not corrected very happily. It was transferred by Mr. Evans to the new edition of his Ballads, with some well-judged conjectural improvements. Sir Walter Scott, in "Rokeby," has given a more authentic and full, though still an imperfect, edition of this humoursome composition, from being furnished with a copy from a manuscript in the possession of Mr. Rokeby, of Northamptonshire, descended of the ancient barons of Rokeby. It has three or four stanzas more than that of Dr. Whitaker, and the language seems, where they differ, to have the more ancient and genuine readings.

Ralph Rokeby, esq. who bestowed this intractable animal on the convent of Richmond, seems to have flourished in the time of Henry VII., which, since we know not the date of Friar Theobald's wardenship, to which the ballad refers us, may indicate that of the composition itself.

The subject of this ballad is the great Northern Insurrection in the 12th of Elizabeth, 1569. It happened thus:—

The zealous adherents of the Romish religion being dissatisfied at the change, formed the design of re-establishing that faith, restoring Mary of Scotland to her liberty, and placing her on the throne of England. The earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, who possessed great power in the north, having held together several conferences, orders were despatched by Elizabeth to these noblemen to appear at court, and answer for their conduct. This order from the queen precipitated the rising before they were fully prepared, for the leaders had already proceeded so far that they dare not trust themselves in the queen's hands. They determined to begin the insurrection without delay; and committed themselves irrevocably by entering Durham in arms, on the 14th November, 1569. This rising was speedily suppressed, and martial law having been proclaimed, great severity was exercised. The earl of Northumberland and many gentlemen were executed; sixty-six petty constables were hanged; and not less than eight hundred persons are said to have suffered by the hands of the executioner. Between Newcastle and Wetherby, a district of sixty miles in length by forty in breadth, there was not a town or village in which some of the inhabitants did not expire on the gibbet.

The following was first printed by Dr. Percy, in 1765, from two MS. copies.

By W. E. (William Elderton), A.D. 1584.

Tradition tells us that near the Dropping Well, at Knaresborough, this famous Yorkshire Sybil was born, about the year 1487; she married Tobias Shipton, a carpenter of Shipton, near York; and from this match derived the name of Mother Shipton. Many tales of her skill in futurity are still related in the county; the whole of which, including a series of succeeding events, are stated to have been delivered to the abbot of Beverley, as in the following:—

Spoken of queen Elizabeth, that was beloved by her subjects, and dreaded by her enemies, above forty years.

The king of Spain's mighty armada, in 1588, was destroyed by the English fleet.

The first line points to the great sickness in London, in 1665; the second to the dreadful fire in the following year.

This famous prophetess died in the fifty-ninth year of her age, fulfilling her own prediction, even to the day and hour. On her tomb was placed this epitaph:—

William Nevison was born in Yorkshire, though the place is uncertain; some say at Nevison hall, in Upsall, near Thirsk, others, at Pontefract and Wortley. He was notorious during the reign of Charles II., and was named by the "merry monarch" Swift Nick. After committing a robbery in London, about sunrise, he rode his mare to York in the course of the day, and appeared upon the Bowling-green of that city before sunset. From this latter circumstance, when brought to trial for the offence, he established an alibi to the satisfaction of the jury, though he was in reality guilty. But, though he escaped this time, he was afterwards apprehended in a public-house at Sandal-three-Houses, near Wakefield, for another offence, convicted and hanged at York, May 4th, 1685. "Thus it was related," says lord Macaulay in his "History of England," "of William Nevison, the great robber of the north of Yorkshire, that he levied a quarterly tribute on all the northern drovers, and in return not only spared them himself, but protected them against all other thieves; that he demanded purses in the most courteous manner; that he gave largely to the poor what he had taken from the rich; that his life was once spared by the royal clemency, but that he again tempted his fate, and at length died, in 1685, on the gallows at York."

Roseberry, or Rosebury Topping, originally, it is said, called "Ottenberg," is a conical hill, situated at the north-west angle of the Eastern moorlands known as the Cleveland hills, near the village of Newton, about one mile to the east of the road from Guisbro' to Stokesley. It is about 1488 feet above the level of the sea, and, by its detatched position and superior elevation, it commands in all directions a prospect at once extensive and interesting, and serves as a land-mark to navigators.

Upon the top of the hill issues, from a large rock, a fountain of very clear water, to which the following very ancient tradition is connected. When king Oswald of Northumberland's son, Oswald, was born, the wise men and magicians were sent for to court, to predict and foretell the life and fortune of the newborn prince; they all agreed that he would when half a year old be drowned. The indulgent maternal queen would have carried him to Chiviot, a remarkable hill in their own county, but for the troubles then subsisting in the north; she, therefore, for his better security, brought him to a lofty hill in peaceful Cleveland, called Roseberry, and caused a cell or cave to be made near the top thereof, in order to prevent his foretold unhappy death. But, alas! in vain; for the fates, who spare nobody, dissolved the rugged rocks into a flowing stream, and, by drowning the son, put a period to all the mother's cares, though not her sorrows; for ordering him to be interred in Tivotdale (Osmotherley) church, she mourned with such inconsolable grief that she soon followed him, and was, according to her fervent desire, laid by her tenderly-beloved, darling child. The heads of the mother and son, cut in stone, may be seen at the east end of the church; and from a saying of the people, "Os by his mother lay," Tivotdale got the name of Osmotherley.

Giving 1, an account of squire Brown, of York, who had one only son; and how his lady fell sick, and on her death-bed begged of him not to marry for the sake of her child.

2. How he soon married a rich widow, who was very cruel to his son; and how his uncle died, and left him an estate of two hundred pounds a year.

3. How his step-mother sent him away for the sake of his money, by taking a ring from his father and putting it in the boy's pocket; for which his father sent him to sea, and the ship was taken by the Spaniards, and he made a slave of.

4. How the ghost of his mother came to this cruel wretch, and told his father of the ring; and how afterwards his father fell into despair, and hanged himself; and his son came home again, went to law with his step-mother, got five hundred pounds from her, which broke her heart.

In the town of Beverley, in Yorkshire, about two years ago [1703], there lived one squire Somers, a very honest gentleman of about three hundred per ann.; his wife dying, by whom he had one little daughter, about two years of age, he continued some months a sorrowful widower; he could not well enjoy himself after the loss of his dear spouse. And it so happened that, partly out of grief, partly from a violent fever, he was brought to his bed of sickness, where he continued not long, for he died within a fortnight after he was taken by that fever. He expressed a great concern for his little girl, and therefore called his brother, a gentleman that lived about fourteen miles from him, and begged him to take the care of his daughter upon him. "Brother," said he, "I leave with you the dearest thing that I have in the world—my little daughter, and with her to you I intrust my estate; manage it for her use, and take care of her education in virtue and religion; use her as if she were your own, and, for my sake, see her married to an honest country gentleman." All which was faithfully promised by the brother. Thus, when all things were settled, the gentleman dies, and the brother takes home the child to his house, and for some time used her kindly. But at the last, the devil of covetousness possessed him; nothing run in his mind so much as making away with the child, and so possess the estate. After many ways, he at last concluded to take her with him, and hide her in a hollow tree; which one morning he effected, and left the poor infant with her mouth stopped that she might not cry. For he had so much grace not actually to murder her, therefore he left her alive in the hollow of the tree; and, the better to hide the matter, gave out that the child was dead, and, therefore, caused an effigy of wax to be made, laid it in a coffin, and a shroud, and made a great funeral for the child. Thus the effigy was buried, and no notice at all taken of the matter. At the same time, a neighbouring gentleman dreamed that that day he should see something that would sufficiently astonish him. He told it to his lady, who dissuaded him from going a hunting that day; but he was resolved, not giving any credit to dreams, and so takes horse in the morning. As he was a hunting, he happened to be in the wood where the child was, and as he was riding by the tree his horse gave a great start, so that he had liked to have fallen down; and turning about, to see what was the matter, he saw something stir in a hole, and being inquisitive to know the cause, his dream presently came in his head, and therefore he calls his man, and bids him examine what was in the hole; who, having searched the tree, discovers the child in the tree. He took it out, and his master carried it to his lady almost dead; he told her his dream was out, declaring how he found the child, and begged her to take care of it. The child was revived, and in a little time brought to itself again; but they could not imagine whose it was; till at last it happened that some woman came to the gentleman's house, a singing at Christmas, and seeing the child, knew it, and declared whose it was, and that it was supposed to be dead and buried. The gentleman goes and prevails with the minister of the parish to have the grave opened, and found the waxen effigy of the child in the grave. He went to the justice of the peace, to whom he declared the matter; who sent his warrant for the child's trustee, who, being convicted of the matter, was not able to deny it, but confessed all the business. But seeing the child was alive, it is supposed he will not be tried for his life, but it is thought a severe punishment will be inflicted on him; and the justice appointed the gentleman that found the child to be its trustee till the assizes. The child is now at the gentleman's house, who loves it as if it was his own, for he has no children himself, and is a man of a good estate, and is likely to augment very much the child's fortune.

Tune "Forgive me if your looks I thought."

Roger Wrightson, at the sign of the King's Head, in Bowes, in the N. R. of Yorkshire, courted widow Railton's daughter, at the sign of the George in the same town, and has done more than a year. On Shrove Tuesday, 1715, he fell sick, and languished till Sunday next but one following, and after saying three times, "Martha, Martha, come away," then died.

Poor Martha (for that was the maid's name whom he courted) Railton, though privately, took heavily on all that time, and only had declared to her sister and mother that if he died she could not live. An honest friend is unworthily blamed for doing what I[142] would have done myself had I known it; for Martha Railton begged of him to go and see young Roger, and tell him she would gladly come and see him, if he thought fit (knowing all his father's family was against her). Roger answered, "Nay, nay, T—my, our folks will be mad; but tell her I hope I shall recover." Well, the poor lass, almost dead in sorrow, first sent an orange, but Roger's mother sent it back; yet about three days before his death Martha went. His mother was so civil as to leave her by his bedside, and ordered her daughter Hannah to come away, but she would not. Poor Martha wanted only to speak three words to him, and (although she stayed two hours) yet Hannah would not let her have an opportunity, and so, in a sorrowful manner, she left him. Her book was her constant work Friday, Saturday, and Sunday; and she would oft say to herself, "Oh! you Hannah! if he dyes my heart will burst." So on the same Sunday se'night, at five o'clock in the afternoon, the bell was tolled for him, and upon the first toll, Martha lay by her book, got her mother in her arms, with, "Oh! dear mother, he's dead, I cannot live." About three minutes after Thomas Petty went in and desired her to be more easy. Her answer was, "Nay, now my heart is burst!" And so, in mournful cries and prayers, was fainter and fainter, for about three hours, and seemed to breathe her last; but her mother and another girl of the town shrieked aloud, and so called her back again (as they term it), and, in amazed manner, distorted with convulsion fits (just as it is described in Dr. Taylor's "Holy Living and Dying"), stayed her spirit ten or twelve hours longer, and then she died.

At last things was brought to this issue, to be buried both in one grave, and the corpse met at the church gate, but Hannah objected against their being buried together, as also she did at her being laid first in the grave; but was answered that a bride has to go first to bed. She, being asked why she should be so proud and inhumane, answered, that she said, "Martha might have taken fairer on, or have been hanged." But oh, the loud mourning of friends on both sides at the corpse meeting, and more at the grave; wherein first she was decently laid, and then he. In the parish register of Bowes is the following entry:—"Rodger Wrightson, junr., and Martha Railton, both of Bowes, buried in one grave. He died of a Fever, and upon tolling his passing Bell, she cry'd out 'My heart is broke,' and in a Few hours expired, purely (or supposed, interlined in a different hand) thro' Love. March 15, 1714-5, aged about 20 years each."

Tune of "Queen Dido."

Written, about a.d. 1757, by

John Ellerker, esq.

To Richard Turbutt, esq.

Worthy Sir,—He who sits down to write anything for the public benefit, without fixing on the person to whom he shall dedicate it, knows little of the art of authorizing, for perhaps when he has finished his work he may not know any person to whom the subject may be agreeable, or that has generosity enough to pay for washing the clean ruffles he is obliged to put on when he waits on him to implore his protection. But I generally take another way, and make my Patron before I begin my work, and suit the subject according to his capacity and genius. As, for example, if I write a book of History and Politics, I have Mr. Alderman Smith[151] for that; if of Love and Gallantry, who can be so good a judge as your neighbour Mr. Taylor; if of Wit and Humour, I have Mr. Alderman Cave[152] in my eye; if of Sobriety and Temperance, no one can be so proper as the Rev. Mr. Willatts;[153] if I write in praise of and recommend the practice of Generosity, Public Spirit, and Patriotism, and urge the indispensable duty of a good subject, not only to hazard his fortune, but even his person, for the good of his country, no man can be so proper as Richard Turbutt, esq.,[154] as all those virtues are conspicuous in him in the highest degree. It is for this reason I humbly lay the inclosed lines at your feet, and implore your patronage of them. Should I say any more in your praise it would offend your known modesty, which has always been remarkably impatient at hearing yourself praised, even for those things for which some people (otherwise greedy of praise) would think they deserved no praise at all. But, to be serious with you, I wish this trifle may divert you during your unhappy confinement. To make you and your young ladies laugh, it will more than answer the most sanguine expectations of, &c. &c. John Ellerker.[155]

The remorseless tragedy on which this ballad is founded took place upwards of a century ago. In the village of Romanby, near Northallerton, there resided a desperate band of coiners, whose respectability and cunning concealment precluded all possibility of suspicion as to their proceedings. The victim of their revenge was Mary Ward, the servant of one of those ruffians. Having obtained an accidental view of some secret apartments appropriated to their treasonable practices, she unguardedly communicated her knowledge to an acquaintance, which reaching her master's ears, he determined to destroy her. The most plausible story, time, and means were selected for this purpose. On a Sunday evening, after sunset, an unknown personage on horseback arrived at her master's mansion, half equipped, to give colour to his alleged haste, and stated that he was dispatched for Mary, as her mother was dying. She lingered to ask her master's permission, but he feigned sleep, and she departed without his leave. On the table of her room was her Bible, opened at these remarkable words in Job, "They shall seek me in the morning, and shall not find me; and where I am, they shall not come." Her home was at the distance of eight miles from Romanby, and Morton bridge, hard by the heath where she was murdered, is the traditionary scene of her nocturnal revisitings. The impression of her re-appearance is only poetically assumed, for there is too much of what Coleridge would term "the divinity of nature" around Morton bridge, to warrant its association with supernatural mysteries.

The inhabitants of the Yorkshire coast were frequently, about the year 1779, thrown into a state of alarm by that intrepid Anglo-American buccanier, Paul Jones. This man had formerly been in the service of the earl of Selkirk, whence he was expelled with disgrace, and having repaired to America he volunteered to make a descent on the British coast. Being entrusted with the command of a privateer, he effected a landing at Whitehaven, and set fire to some shipping in the arbour. He sailed for Scotland, where he landed on the estate of the earl of Selkirk, and plundered his lordship's house of all the plate. These services insured his promotion, and procured him the command of the Bon Homme Richard, and the Alliance, each of 40 guns; the Pallas, of 32 guns; and the Vengeance, armed brig. With this force he made many valuable captures, insulted the coast of Ireland, and even threatened the city of Edinburgh. On Monday, the 20th Sept. 1779, an express arrived at Bridlington, from the bailiffs of Scarborough, with intelligence that an enemy was cruising off the coast. On Thursday a valuable fleet of British merchantmen from the Baltic, under the convoy of the Serapis, Capt. Pearson, of 44 guns, and the Countess of Scarborough, Capt. Piercy, of 22 guns, hove in sight, and were chased by the enemy. The first care of Capt. Pearson was to place himself between the enemy and his convoy; by which manœuvre he enabled the whole of the merchantmen to escape into the port of Scarborough. About half-past seven o'clock the thunder of the cannon announced that an engagement had commenced; the battle raged with unabated fury for two hours, when at length Capt. Pearson, who was engaged by the two largest of the enemy's ships, was compelled to surrender. Capt. Piercy, after a long and gallant defence, was in the end obliged to strike to the Pallas. The enemy purchased the victory at a prodigious price, more than 300 men being killed or wounded in the Richard alone, which vessel received so much injury, that she sunk next day with many of the wounded on board.

Capt. Pearson afterwards received the honour of knighthood; and the freedom of the borough of Scarborough was presented to him and his gallant colleague, Capt. Piercy, in two boxes of "heart of oak," ornamented with silver.

Composed by W. S. Kenrick, and J. Burtell.

The Chase run by the Cleveland Fox Hounds, on Saturday the 29th day of January, 1785.

Who was hung at York for robbing the mail on the 14th of April, 1792.

In Three Parts.

Part I. Showing how a noble knight was riding by a farmer's house when his wife was in travail. The knight, knowing the signs and planets, looking on a book, read that the farmer's daughter that was born that hour was to be his bride. And how the cruel knight got the child from her parents, and flung it into a river; but, by good fortune, the child was taken up by a poor fisherman alive, who brought her home and kept her till she was eleven years old.

Part II. How the fisherman was in an inn with some gentlemen, the knight being one of the company; and seeing this young girl come in, he asked the fisherman if she was his own daughter, who told the story of his taking her up, &c. How the knight got the poor girl away, and contrived her death a second time, and how he was prevented.

Part III. How the knight contrived her death the third time; but her life was saved by showing the knight a ring that he flung into the sea, which the knight seeing, found it was in vain to strive against fortune, so married her.

Being an account of a race lately run at Temple-Newsham Green; none being admitted to run but such as were virgins. The first that came to the Two Miles' Race end was to have a silver spoon; the second, a silver bodkin; the third, a silver thimble; and the fourth, nothing at all.

Tune "New Game at Cards."

A true and lamentable tale, showing how his worship was dubbed a knight a day too soon, and undubbed again a day too late, not to be laughed at.