Blackamoor in the wood (2)

·

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,
for cruelty, is scarcely to
be equalled.

GREENOCK:
Printed by William Scott.

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 parents' only joy,
⁠They lov’d them both so well

This Lord he lov'd to hunt the buck,
⁠The tiger, 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,
⁠Then homewards 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
⁠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, quoth the little babes,
⁠With us still here remain.

Farewell, 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 drew;
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 countenance grim,
⁠She straight began to fear.

But now my trembling heart it quakes,
⁠To think what I must write;
My senses all begin to faint,
⁠My soul 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 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 is shut,
⁠Therefore come lie with me,
Or else I do protest and vow,
⁠Thy butcher I will be.

The crystal tears ran down her cheeks,
⁠Her children cry'd amain,
And sought to help their mother dear,
⁠But, alas! 'twas in vain.

For the egregious filthy rogue,
⁠Her hands behind her bound,
And then by foree 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 stood, did sore lament
⁠The gallant Lady's fall.

With speed the Lord came posting home,
⁠He could not enter in;
His Lady's eries 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 fan 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 there,
⁠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 parents 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 had 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 vile 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,
⁠Though 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 wilt grant what I request,
⁠I'll save her for thy sake.

O save her life, and 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 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 sad a tale,
⁠As ever you did hear.

F I N I S.