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

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."