The blackamoor in the wood: or, A lamentable ballad on a tragical end of a gallant lord and virtuous lady

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
The Blackamoor in the Wood: or, A Lamentable Ballad on a Tragical End of a Gallant Lord and Virtuous Lady (1819)
3243215The Blackamoor in the Wood: or, A Lamentable Ballad on a Tragical End of a Gallant Lord and Virtuous Lady1819

THE

Blackamoor in the Wood:

OR, A

Lamentable Ballad

ON A

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.

Glaſgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertſon,

Saltmarket, 1802.

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 children 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 fill for ſwiftneſs always took
with him a Blackamoor;

Which Blackanoor within the wood,
his Lord he did offend,
But there he did him then correct,
in hopes lie 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, his Lady did
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, quoth the little babes,
with us ftill 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 be up did draw;
The gates he bolted very ſtrong,
of none he ſtood in awe.

Не up into the tower went,
his Lady being there,
Wito when the law his count'nance grim,
the straight began to fear.

But now my trembling heart it quakes,
to think what I muſt write;
My ſenſes all begin to faint,
my foul it doth afright.

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 forthwith to ſatisfy,
his mind for to fulfil.

The Lady ſhe amazed was,
to bear the villain ſpeak;
Alas! quoth ſhe, What ſhall I do!
with grief my heart will break.

With that he took her in his arms;
the ſtraight for help did cry:
Content yourſelf, Lady, quoth he,
your huſband is not nigh.

The bridge is drawn, the gate is ſhut,
therefore come lie with me,
Or elſe I do proteſt and row,
thy butcher I will be.

The chriſtal tears ran from her cheeks,
her children cry'd amain,
And fought to help their mother dear,
but alas! 'twas in vain.

For the egregious filthy rogue,
her hands behind her bound,
And then by force with all his ſtrength,
he threw her to 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 food, did fore 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 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 feeling his father there,
to him for help did call
O Father, help my Mother dear,
we ſhall be killed all.

Thea 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 again the wall,
while parent's 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 knife 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 bad cut,
that 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 wilt 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,
Thou wilt grant what I requeſt,
I'll ſave her for thy ſake.

(illegible text) ſave her life, and now demand,
of me then what thou wilt:
(illegible text)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 Lord'hip he did ſee,
his fenſes all did fail;
Yet many fought to ſave his life,
but they could not avail.

When as the Moor did ſee him dead,
then he did laugh 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 to be 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 fad a tale,
as ever you did hear.


Glaſgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertſon, Saltmarket 18(illegible text)


This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.

Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse