The Press. — London, England, 1858-05-29 00:00:00

Loot" his Treasurie. It is difficult to emjecture to which a the great Indo•Gerinnnie flintily of laiNuaues this word I * ,, onts. Possibly it ma, be scanditiavian. derived from the Northineo. Professor connects it with the sot l lot:' suggesting as a parallel to tho V scount's pioposal the Lehi. " Ronan provincian." + Here the metre seems at fault, but the case is past es- t 'We at first read this word," imams "—id. quod " ugly"— but (be root, " Whig is "e,' subsequently occurs in the ballad, /11tt itb Ire are utterly unable to assign ita distinctive value. • Sic in orig. l'robably a slip of the pen fnr " blazno'd." + His dninty tsyle. The italics her« are inserted oonjectu• rally. to till up a lacuna of some letters. Perhaps • curve• apondeot can inform us whether the word " tail" was used in early Englieb in its Scotch sense of " followers." THE PRESS, THE RAID OF SI [A Literary Correspondent has furnished us with the following curious Ballad, 1 the early fortunes of the noble house of Stanley. We have endeavoured to as far as possible.] Heav'n prosper long our noble Queen, Our lives and safeties all ! A doleful downcome late there did In Westminster befall. The Viscount bold of Tiverton A crafty plot laid he, To drive Earl D—y from his seat, And " loot "• his Treasurie. He stinted not for the Sabbath morn, But bade his couriers ride, And bring to the House of the Crooked Bridge, His good Knights far and wide. There came Sir Lewis the Cornishman, Sir Charles with the Sconce of Wood, And a knight of bold De Burgo's race, Who was more gallantt than good. There came Sir Robert, yclep'd the Lowe, A perilous scribe, I ween ; And Vernon from the Eastern horde, Whom men call'd Evergreen. There came little John from London town, lmpell'd by Whigsome: greed— Tho be loved the Lord of'Tiverton As the tercel loves the glede. For the Viscount swore by his hopes of place (An oath of mickle might !) That little John should share the spoil If he would but share the fight. There came no news of the warrior chiefs From Tamworth's ancient Peel ; Perchance they knew not of the plot— Perchance they had wounds to heal. 'No matter," quoth he of Tiverton, " They will join the host ere long ; They have sent us good Sir Carduell, That craftye Knight and strong. "And the Lances Free of the North Countree Will come for the hope of place; Nor need we fear for Derby's Earl— Ile fights 'in another place.' " So up and be doing, comrades all, And gather your men with speed, Nor spare for threats or flatteries, Nor yet for a bribe at need. " And when we have muster'd two for one, As well we may hope to see, Oh! then we'll rout them from their bench And loot their 'rreasurie !" He gave his hand to little John, His banner to Carduell, With the brave word " Resolution " there Y-blazon'd featly and well. [Several stsnzts are omitted here, as they mere:y describe the mustering of the rank and file. This appears to have been chiefly conducted by one " Hater Goollennffe," whom the Viscount, by a laboured parono. masks, describes u his " best lover." FYTTE THE SECOND. It chanced on a Friday afternoon That they met the foe in field, Led on by the Knight of Buckinghame, The Knight of the chequer'd shield. "Lo ! yonder they stand," quoth Tiverton; " Men say, they are stark in stowre ; Methinks it were well to bide a week Till we muster all our I►ow'r. " Meanwhile, prick forth, my boldest Knights ! Prick forth by one and two; We'll weary them out in single fights, For I ween their chiefs are few." Then forth these spured at their leader's word, The Banneret Carduell, With the " Resolution " brazen'd* forth, For friend and foe to spell. There met him a Scottish champion— Sir Hugh of the Cairns he hight ; Then fared it ill with Carduell, And ill with his banner bright. For horse and man went headlong down Before that Champion's thrust, And the gay banner's blazonry Was rent and soil'd with dust. But heavier still was Vernon's hap, Who minted a felon blow, And missing his aim, fell floundering Or ever he met a foe. There prone he lay for ev'ry hoof And every foot to spurn, Till whether alive he were or dead Ye mote not well discern. " No matter—no matter," quoth Tiverton (For he saw his men look blue) ; "But one week more, and we'll clear the score, And make these placemen rue." Yet ever as the week wore on, And spears were freely cross'd, The worse it fared with the Whigsome knights, In the front of the Viscount's host. Scarce one, save Robin of Goodaricke, But met with scathe or foil ; And he was a Knight that fought for fame, And not for lust of spoil. For one by one, and two by two, The bold Free Lances came, With the warrior-chiefs from Tamworth-Peel, To the Knight of Buckinghame. No need for him to couch a lance When he saw those champions stout, How they braved the Viscount to his face, And put his knights to rout. One was yclep'd " The Friendly Knight" (His beaver he would not vail), He drove Little John from vantage-ground, And tickled his daintyt tayle. One was the Grteme, from merry Carlisle, Earl Derby's old ally, With small ado he bore down two Of the Viscount's chivalry. And then did he throw his gauntlet down, In the heat of his knightly rage, And challenged their bravest, one by one— But none durst lift the gage. Only mad Dickon of Aylesbury Went galloping to and fro, And scatter'd the mire from his charger's heels Alike on friend and foe. FYTTE THE THIRD. They have tarried a week till Whitsunti At length they are boune for fight— " Now hap what hap," quoth Tiverton, " We close with the foe to-night." "Ready, aye ready !" quoth Little John, And his nose grew sharp with ire ; " Ready !" quoth Dickon of Aylesbury, And his sullen eye flash'd fire. There was mutiny in the Viscount's camp, And fear on the Viscount's men, And many rode forth to seek for aid, Who rode not back again. Some cried " Forward!" and some cried "Back !" And some for a parley cried, And many a dastard said " Withdraw !" When he thirst not say " Divide !" Yet still in the front stood Carduell, With his tatteed flag outspread, And the " Resolution " blazon'd there, I wis, it mote still be redde. Then louder clamour'd the mutineers, And rudely spake their mind ; And Kingston and Finsburie raised their spearr, And prodded• the Knight behind. Last came the Viscount of Tiverton, With a whisper and a frown; Then Carduell wax'd deathly pale, And he dropt his banner down. "Choose now," cried the Knight of Buckinghame, " Whether to fight or flee ;" " A boon, a boon !" quoth Tiverton, " I would crave a boon of thee. " Let me and my merry men ride away, And press not o 4 our rear." " Ride where ye list," the Knight rejoined, " So ye ride not looting here." FYTTE THE LAST. Now Buckinghame's Knight he bides on bench,t And there he is like to bide, And Derby's Earle bath the Treasurie, In scorn of Whigsome pride. And Tiverton's Lord is sore cast down, And he groans for ghostly aid ; And ever he cries "Confiteor ! What a blunder I have made !" And little John ill can brook his chair, Y-galled in his seat, I wot ; And he vows revenge on the Friendly Knight— Pray Ileav'n he eat him not ! And Dickon of Aylesbury bath the sack, But he bath not gotte the Woolle ;: And Carduell's raid is a standing jest, And he but a damaged tool ! God save the Queen, and bless this land With honour, wealth, and peace, And grant henceforth that lust of place In noble Whigges may cease ! • Prodded. This wool is perplexing. As there vegan to Dave been treachery at work. it may be derived from " prodere," to betray or hewray: but we eamiot admit a learned friend's construction (however favoured by the context) that Sir Card uell betrayed or bewrayed himself. Probably $ Wpm plaints fur " bides on bent "—i.e., keeps the field. This is apparently some comic allusion—possibly to a pm• verb, of which we cannot ti the date —" More noise then wool. as the first Whig acid when he sheared his swine!' There • also an ancient rhyme in polo t— " Baa! bait! black sheep, Hasa you any wool?" MAY 29 , 1858 . 517 • • R CARDUELL. evidently of great antiquity, and interesting from its connexion with make it intelligible to our Readers by modernizing the orthography woo l. ire i r "Ready !" quoth many a stalwart Whig, Full keen for the Treasurie prize; " Then sound we a charge," quoth Tiverton, " And shout to our troops to rise !" The trumpet blared with its brazen note, The scouts rode to and fro, The chieftains summon'd their men-at-arms, But the men-at-arms said " No!"