%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF / FAIR ROSAMOND, / Concubine to Henry 2nd. / Who was put to death by Queen Eleanor, in the famous Bower of Wood- / stock, near Oxford. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/11/2014 33906

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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

1 Flying Fame. Chevy Chase Flying Fame. WHEN as King Henry rul'd the land, / The second of the name; Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1281 A LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF / FAIR ROSAMOND, / Concubine to Henry 2nd. / Who was put to death by Queen Eleanor, in the famous Bower of Wood- / stock, near Oxford. A LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF FAIR ROSAMOND, Concubine to Henry 2nd. Who was put to death by Queen Eleanor, in the famous Bower of Woodstock, near Oxford. Printer J. Pitts ?-?

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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 Featured 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 6/11/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America clothing/ appearance gender infidelity military/ war punishment royalty sex/ sexuality Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/11/2014 11:00:26 AM XBallad Becker, Charlotte Created XML Version of Ballad 6/11/2014 11:00:26 AM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/11/2014 11:00:26 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/11/2014 11:00:26 AM Transcriptionist Two Koath, Jayne Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/11/2014 11:00:26 AM Transcriptionist One Keller Scotch, Grace Transcription of ballad manuscript 3/8/2013 Checker William Hildalgo Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 11/21/2012 Bibliographer Elizabeth Aguilar Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 11/21/2012 Checker Elizabeth Aguilar Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 1/13/2014 Checker Jeremy Chow Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">FAIR ROSAMOND,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Concubine to Henry 2nd.</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Who was put to death by Queen Eleanor, in the famous Bower of Wood-</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">stock, near Oxford.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">To the Tune of Flying Fame.</hi></hi></seg>
WHEN as King Henry rul'd the land, The second of the name; Besides the Queen he dearly lov'd, A fair and comely dame; Most peerless was her beauty found, Her favours and her face, A sweeter creature in this world, Could never Prince embrace. Her pretty locks like threads of gold, Appear'd to each man's sight, Her comely eyes, like orient pearls, Did cast a glorirous light; The blood within her crystal cheeks, Did such a colour drive, As if the lilly and the rose, For mastership did strive. Fair Rosamond, fair Rosamond, Her name was call'd so, To whom dame Eleanor our queen, Was known a deadly foe;
The king therefore for her defence; Against the furious queen, At Woodstock built a pretty bow'r, The like was never seen. Most curiously that bow'r was built; Of stone and timber strong, An hundred and fifty doors, Did to this bow'r belong; And they so cunningly contriv'd, With turnings round about. That none but with a clue of thread; Could enter in and out. And for his love and lady's sake, That was so fair and bright, The keeping of this bow'r he gave, Unto a gallant knight; But fortune that doth often frown; Where it before did smile, The king's delight the lady's joy, Full soon she did beguile.
For the king's most ungracious son, Whom he did high advance, Against his father waged war; Within the realms of France. But yet before our comely king, The English had forsook, Of Rosomond his lady fair. His farewel thus he took. My Rosamond my only rose, That pleaseth best my eye, The fairest flow'r in all the world, To delight my fancy, The flow'r of my affected heart, Whose sweetness doth excel, My royal rose a thousand times, I bid thee now farewel. For I must leave my fairest flow'r, My sweetest rose a space, And cross the seas to famous France, Proud rebels to abase. But yet my rose besure thou shall, My coming shortly see, And in my heart when hence I am, I'll bear my rose with me. When Rosamond, that lady bright, Did hear that king say so, The sorrow of her grieved heart, Her outward looks did shew, And from her clear and crystal eyes, The tears gush'd out a-pace, Which like the silver pearled dew, Ran down her comely face. Her lips like to the coral red, Did wax both wan and pale, And for the sorrow she conceiv'd, Her vital spirits did fail. And falling down all in a swoon, Before King Henry's face, Full often within his princely arms, Her body did embrace. And twenty times with watery eyes, He kiss'd her tender cheek; Until he had reviv'd again, Her senses mild and meek; Why grieves my sweetest rose? The king would often say, Because, quoth she, to bloody wars, My lord must pass away; But since your grace in foreign parts Among your foes unkind, Must go to hazard life and limb, Why should I stay behind? Nay, farther, let me like a page, Thy sword and target bear, That on my breast thy blows may light, That would offend you there.
O let me in your royal tent, Prepare your bed at night, And sweet baths refresh you, At your return from fight; So I your presence may enjoy, No toil I will refuse, But wanting you my life is death, Which doth true love abuse. Content thyself my dear, quoth he, Thy rest at home shall be, In England's sweet and pleasant soil, For travel fits not thee; Fair ladies brook no bloody wars, Sweet peace their pleasure breed, The nourisher of heart's content, Which fancy first did feed. My rose shall rest in Woodstock bow'r, With music's sweet delight, Whilst I among the piercing pikes, Against my foes do fight, My rose in robes of pearl and gold, With diamonds richly drest, Shall dance the calliards of my love, Whilst my foes lie oppress'd, And you Sir Thomas, whom I trust, To be my love's defence, Be careful of the gallant rose, When I am parted hence, And therewithal he fetch'd a sigh, As though his heart would break, And fair Rosamond for very grief, One word she could not speak. And at their parting they well might, In heart be grieved sore, After that day fair Rosamond, The king did see no more: For when his grace had pass'd the seas, And into France was gone, Queen Eleanor with envious heart, To Woodstock came anon, And forth she calls this trusty knight, Who kept this curious bow'r, Who with a clew of twined thread, Came from this famous flower. And when they had wounded him, The queen this thread did get, And went were lady Rosamond, Was like an angel set:
But when the queen with steadfast eye, Beheld her beauteous face, She was amazed in her mind, At her exceeding grace; Cast of from thee those robes she said, That rich and costly be, And drink thou this deadly drought, Which I have brought to thee. But presently upon her knees, Sweet Rosamond did fall, And pardon of the queen she crav'd, For her offences all; Take pity on my youthful years, Fair Rosamond did cry, And let me not with poison strong, Enforc'd be to die, I will renounce my sinful life, And in some cloister hide, Or else be banish'd if you please, To range the world so wide, And for the fault that I have done, Tho' I was forc'd thereto, Preserve my life and punish me, As you think good to do. And with these words her lilly hands, She wrung full often there, And down along her comely face, Proceeded many a tear; But nothing could this furious queen, Wherewith appeased be, The cup of deadly poison strong, As she kneel'd on her knee. She gave this comely dame to drink, Who took it in her hand, And from her bendid knee arose, And on her feet did stand; And casting up her eyes to heaven, She did for mercy call, And drinking up the poison strong, Her life she lost withal. And when that death in every limb, Had done her gaeatest spite, Her greatest foes did there confess, She was a glorious white; Her body then they did entomb, When life was fled away, At Woodstock near to Oxford, town, As may be seen this day.
Printed and Sold by J. Pitts, No. 14, Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials. -Price One Penny.