William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Restoration Verse. 1910.
Captain Care or Edom o GordonAnonymous
I
When wether waxed colde,
Captaine Care said to his men,
We must go take a holde.
And sike and like to die:
And sikest nighte that ever I abode,
God lord have mercy on me!
And wether ye like it best;’
‘To the castle of Crecrynbroghe,
And there we will take our restè.’
Is builded of lyme and stone;
Within their ia a gay ladie,
Her lord is riden and gone.’
She loked upp and downe;
There was she ware of an host of men,
Come riding to the towne.
And se yow what I see?
Yonder I see an host of men,
I muse who they shold bee.’
As he comd riding home;
Then was it traitur Captaine Care
The lord of Ester-towne.
Then after said the grace,
Or Captaine Care and all his men
Wer lighte aboute the place.
And I will make the a bande;
To-night thou shall ly within my armes,
To-morrowe thou shall ere my lande.’
That was both whitt and redde:
‘O mother dere, geve over your howsse,
Or elles we shalbe deade.’
‘Not for feare of my lyffe;
It shalbe talked throughout the land,
The slaughter of a wyffe.
And charge me my gonne,
That I may shott at this bloddy butcher,
The lord of Easter-towne.’
And lett the pellettes flee;
But then she myst the blody bucher,
And she slew other three.
Netheir for lord nor lowne;
Nor yet for traitur Captaine Care,
The lord of Easter-towne.
And all his bloddye band,
That he would save my eldest sonne,
The eare of all my lande.’
‘And let him downe to me,
And I shall take him inmy armes,
His waran shall I be.’
Wyth sped, before the rest,
He cut his tonge out of his head,
His hart out of his brest.
And knet it of knotes three,
And cast them over the castell-wall,
At that gay layde.
And all thy bloddy band!
For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne,
The ayre of all my land.’
That sat on the nurse’s knee,
Syath, ‘Mother gay, geve over your house;
For the smoake it smoothers me.’
As she stood on the stair;
The fire was at her goud garters,
The lowe was at her hair.
‘And so I wolde my ffee,
For a blaste of the westryn wind,
To dryve the smoke from thee.
That ever I paid hyre!
For thou hast broken my castle-wall,
And kyndled in the ffyre.’
The fire fell aboute her head;
She toke up her children two,
Seth, ‘Babes, we are all dead.’
That is of hye degree;
Saith, ‘Ladie gay, you are in close,
Wether ye fighte or flee.’
In Carvall where he laye,
His halle were all of fyre,
His ladie slanye or daye.
Even and go ye with me;
For I dremd that my hall was on fyre,
My lady slayne or day.’
And like a worthi knighte;
And when he saw his hall burning,
His harte was no dele lighte.
He blew as it plesd his grace;
Twenty score of Hamletons
Was light aboute the place.
As I do to-daye,
Captaine Care and all his men
Should not have gone so quite.
And all thy blody bande!
Thou hast slain my lady gay,
More wurth than all thy lande.
‘Thou shoulde have taken my lyffe,
And have saved my children thre,
All and my lovesome wyffe.’