%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A Lamentable BALLAD of the tragical End of a gallant Lord / and a virtuous Lady, and the untimely End of their two Children, wickedly perform'd by a heathenish / Black-a-moor, their Servant, the like never heard of before. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1730-1730 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 05/04/2012 32501

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

T206203 IN Rome a noble Lord did wed, / A Virgin of great Fame, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 289769 A Lamentable BALLAD of the tragical End of a gallant Lord / and a virtuous Lady, and the untimely End of their two Children, wickedly perform'd by a heathenish / Black-a-moor, their Servant, the like never heard of before. A Lamentable BALLAD of the tragical End of a gallant Lord and a virtuous Lady, and the untimely End of their two Children, wickedly perform'd by a heathenish Black-a-moor, their Servant, the like never heard of before. A Lamentable BALLAD of the tragical End of a gallant Lord and a virtuous Lady, and the untimely End of their two Children, wickedly performed by a heathenish Blackamoor, their Servant, the like never heard of before. 1730-1730

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 5/4/2012 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America animals/ nature children crime death family punishment race/ ethnicity servitude sex/ sexuality violence Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 5/4/2012 10:52:33 AM XBallad Davis, Mary Jane Created XML Version of Ballad 5/4/2012 10:52:33 AM Transcription Supervisor Davis, Mary Jane Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2012 10:52:33 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2012 10:52:33 AM Transcriptionist Two Bell, Erik Transcription of ballad manuscript 5/4/2012 10:52:33 AM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/23/2011 Checker Percy Ross Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 6/23/2011 Checker Percy Ross Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 5/14/2011 Bibliographer Shannon Meyer Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A Lamentable BALLAD of the tragical End of a gallant Lord</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">and a virtuous Lady, and the untimely End of their two Children, wickedly performd by a heathenish</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Black-a-moor, their Servant, the like never heard of before.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of <hi rend="bold">Flying Fame,</hi></hi></seg>
IN Rome a noble Lord 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, They were their Parents only Joy. They lovd them both so well. This Lord he lovd to hunt the Buck, The Tyger and the Bear, And still for Swifteness always took, With him a Black-a-moor: Which Black-a-moor in the Wood, His Lord he did offend. For which he did him then correct, In hopes he would amend. The Day it grew unto an End. Then homewards he did haste, Where with his Lady he did rest, Until the Night was past. Then in the Morning he did rise, And did his Servants call, A hunting he provides to go, Straight they were ready all. Because of Toil the 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 the again: Good Father, quoth the Little Babes, With us here still remain. Farewel, dear Children, I will go, A fine Thing for to buy. But they therewith nothing 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 Black-a-moor perceiving now, Who then did stay behind, His Lord to be a hunting gone, Began to call to Mind: My Master he did me correct, My Fault not being great. Now of his Wife Ill be revenged. She shall not me intreat. This Place was moted round about, The Bridge he did undraw, The Gates he bolted very fast, Of none he stood in Awe; He up unto the Tower went, The Lady being there: Who when she saw his Countenance, She straight began to fear.
But now my trembling Heart it quakes To think that I must write: My Senses all begin to fail, My soul it doth affright: 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. This Wretch unto the Lady went, And her with Speed did will, His Lust forthwith to satisfy His mind for to fulfil. Then 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, he said, Your Husband is not nigh; The Bridge is drawn, the Gates are shut, Therefore come lie with me; Or else I do protest and vow, Thy Butcher I will be The chrystal Tears ran down her Face, Her Children cryd amain, And sought to help their Mother dear, But it was all in vain,
So that egregious, filthy Rogue. Her Hands behind her bound, And then by Force with all his Might He threw her on the Ground. With that she shriekd, her Children cryd And such a Noise did make, The Towns Folk hearing her lament, Did seek their Parts to take: But all in vain, no Way was found, To help the Ladys Need, Who cries to them most pitiously O help! O help! with Speed. Some ran [i]nto the forest wide, Her Lord home for to call; And they that stood did still lament. This gallant Ladys Fall. With Speed her Lord came posting home He could not enter in; His Ladys Cries did pierce his Heart, Her dearest Blood to spill. Oh! hold thy Hand thou Savage Moor To hurt her do forbear, Or else be sure as I do live, Wild horses shall the tear. With that the Rogue ran to the Wall, He having got his Will, And brought one Child under his Arm, To call he did begin. 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 Knee, And did the Moor intreat, To save the Life of his dear Child, Whose fear was then so great. But this vile Wretch the little Child, By both the Heels did take, And dashd his Brains against the Wall, Whilst Parents Hearts did ake, That being done straightway he ran, The other Child to fetch, And pluckd it from the Mothers Breast, Most like a cruel Wretch. Within one Hand a Knife he brought, The Child within the other, And holding it over the Wall, Saying thus shall die thy Mother, With that he cut the Throat of it; Then to the Lord did call, To look how he the Neck had cut, And down the head did fall. Then threw the Body down the Wall, Into the Mote so deep; Which made the Father wring his Hands And grieviously to weep:
Then to the Lady went this Rogue, Who was near dead with Fear; Yet this vile Wrtch most cruelly, Did drag her by the Hair. And drew her to the very Wall, Which when her Lord did see, Then presently, he cryd out, And fell upon his Knee. Quoth he if thou wilt save her Life, Whom I do love so dear, I will forgive thee all thats past. Though they concern me near. O save her Life I thee beseech, O save her Life I thee pray, And I will grant 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 me what I ask, Ill save her for thy Sake. O save her Life and then demand, Of me what thing thou wilt, Cut of thy Nose, and not one Drop, Of her Blood shall be spilt. With that the Lord he presently took, A Knife within his Hand, And then his Nose he quite cut off, In Place where he did stand. Now I have bought the Ladys Life, He to the Moor did call, Then take her, quoth the wicked Rogue And down he let her fall, Which when this gallant Lord did see, His Senses all did fail, Yet many sought to save her Life, Yet nothing could prevail. When as the Moor did see her dead. Then he did laugh amain, At them who for their gallant Lord, And Lady did complain. Quoth he, I know youll torture me, If that you can me get; But all you Threats I do not fear, Nor yet regard one Whit Wild Horses shall thy Body tear, I know it to be true; But Ill prevent you of that Pain. And 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 Man did hear.
Newcastle: Printed in this present Year.