Blackamoor in the wood (1)

THE

BLACKAMOOR

IN THE WOOD.

A Lamentable Ballad

On the Tragical End of a gallant Lord and virtuous Lady; together with the untimely death of their two Children, wickedly performed by a Heathenish and blood-thirsty Villain their Servant. The like of which Cruelty was never before heard of.

EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

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1819.

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The BLACKAMOOR in the WOOD.

In Rome a Nobleman did wed
⁠A virgin of great fame;
A fairer creature never did
⁠Dame Nature ever frame;
By whom he had two chidlren fair,
⁠Whose beauty did excel,
And were their parent's only joy,
⁠They lov'd them both so well.
This Lord he lov'd to hunt the buck,
⁠The tyger and the boar,
And still for swiftness always took
⁠With him a Blackamoor;
Which Blackamoor within the wood,
⁠His Lord he did offend,
But there he did him then correct,
⁠In hopes he would amend.
The day it drew unto an end,
⁠When homeward they did haste,
When with his Lady he did rest,
⁠Until the night was past.
Then in the morning he did rise,
⁠And both his servants call;
A hunting to provide to go
⁠Straight they were ready all.
Cause of his toil the Lady did
⁠Intreat him not to go;
Alas! Good Lady, (then quoth he)
⁠Why art thou grieved so?
Content thyself, I will return
⁠With speed to thee again;
Good father, quoah the little babes,
⁠With us still here remain.
Farewel dear children, I will go
⁠A fine thing you to buy;
But they therewith no whit content,
⁠Aloud began to cry.
Their mother takes them by the hand,
⁠Saying, Come go with me.
Unto the highest tower, where
⁠Your father you shall see.
The Blackamoor perceived now,
⁠Who then did stay behind,
His Lord a hunting to be gone,
⁠Began to call to mind,
My Master he did me correct,
⁠My fault not being great;
Now of his wife I'll be reveng'd,
⁠He shall not me intreat.
The place was moated round about,
⁠The bridge he up did draw;
The gates he bolted very strong,
⁠Of none he stood in awe.
He up into the Tower went,
⁠His Lady being there,
Who when she saw his count'nance grim,
⁠She straight began to fear.
Bnt now my trembling heart it quakes,
⁠To think what I must write;
My senses all begin to faint,
⁠My soul it doth affright
Yet I must make an end of this,
⁠Which here I have begun,
Which will make sad the hardest heart,
⁠Before that I have done.
The wretch unto the lady went,
⁠And there with speed did will,
His lust forth with to satisfy,
⁠His mind for to fulfil.
The Lady she amazed was,
⁠To hear the villain speak;
Alas, quoth she, What shall I do,
⁠With grief my heart will break.
With that he took her in his arms,
⁠She straight for help did cry,
Content yourself, lady, quoth he,
⁠Your husband is not nigh.
The bridge is drawn, the gate it shut,
⁠Therefore come lie with me,
Or else I do protest and vow,
⁠Thy butcher I will be.
The crystal tears run from her cheek
⁠Her children cried amain,
And sought to help their mother dear,
⁠But alas, it was in vain.
For the egrigious filthy rogue,
⁠Her hands behind her bound,
And then by force with all his strength,
⁠He threw her on the ground.
With that she shriek'd, her children cry'd,
⁠And such a noise did make,
The townsmen hearing their lament,
⁠Did seek their part to take;
But all in vain, no way was found
⁠To aid the Lady's need,
Who cry'd to them most piteously,
⁠Oh help! oh help with speed.
Some did run to the forest wide,
⁠Her Lord home for to call;
And they that stood, did sore lament,
⁠The gallant lady's fall.
With speed the Lord came posting home,
⁠But could not enter in;
His Lady's cries did pierce his heart,
⁠To call he did begin.
Hold thy rude hand, thou savage Moor,
⁠To hurt her do forbear.
Or else as sure as that I live,
⁠Wild horses shall thee tear.
With that the rogue ran to the wall,
⁠He having had his will,
And brought one child under his arm,
⁠His dearest blood to spill.
The child seeing his father their,
⁠To him for help did call,
O Father, help my mother dear,
⁠We shall be killed all.
Then fell the Lord upon his knees,
⁠And did the Moor intreat,
To save the life of his poor child,
⁠Whose fear was then so great.
But the sad wretch the little child.
⁠By both the heels did take,
And dash'd his head against the wall,
⁠While parants heart did quake:
But being dead, he quickly ran,
⁠The other child to fetch,
And pluck't it from the mother's breast,
⁠Like a most cruel wretch.
Within one hand a kife he brought,
⁠The child into the other,
And holding it over the wall
⁠Said thus shall die the Mother;
With that he cut the throat of it,
⁠Then on the Father calls,
To see how he the head had cut,
⁠And down the brains did fall.
This done, he threw it o'er the wall
⁠Into the moat so deep,
Which made his father wring his hands,
⁠And grievously to weep.
Then to the Lady this rogue went,
⁠Who was near dead with fear,
Yet the wild wretch most cruelly,
⁠Did drag her by the hair,
And drew her to the very wall,
⁠Which there his Lord did see;
Then presently he called out,
⁠And fell upon his knee.
Quoth he, If thou will save her life,
⁠Whom I do hold so dear,
I will forgive thee all that's past,
⁠Tho' they concern me near.
O save her life, I thee beseech,
⁠O save her life I pray,
And I will give thee what thou wilt,
⁠Demand of me this day.
Well, quoth the Moor, I do regard,
⁠The moan that thou dost make,
If thou will grant what I request,
⁠I'll save her for thy sake.
O save her life, hnd now demand,
⁠Of me then what thou wilt:
Cut off thy nose, and not one drop,
⁠Of her blood shall be spilt.
With that the noble Lord did take,
⁠A knife into his ⟨hand⟩,
And there his nose did quite cut off,
⁠In place where he did stand.
Now I have bought my Lady's life,
⁠Then to the Moor did call:
Then take her quoth the wicked rogue,
⁠And down he let her fall.
Which when his Lordship he did see,
⁠His senses all did fail;
Yet many sought to save his life,
⁠But they could not avail.
When as the Moor did see him dead,
⁠Then he did laught amain
At them, who for this gallant Lord
⁠And Lady did complain.
Quoth he, I know you'll torture me,
⁠If that you could me get,
But all your threats I do not fear,
⁠Nor do regard one whit:
Wild horses would my body tear,
⁠I know it be to true;
But I'll prevent you of that pain,
⁠Then down himself he threw.
Too good a death for such a wretch,
⁠A villain void of fear;
And thus doth end as sad a tale,
⁠As ever you did hear.

FINIS.