Strange histories, or, Songs and sonnets, of kinges, princes, dukes, lords, ladyes, knights, and gentlemen and of certaine ladyes that were shepheards on Salisburie plaine : very pleasant either to be read or songe, and a most excellent warning for all estates / by Thomas Delone.

A mournefull Dittie on the death of faire Rosamond, King Henrie the seconds Concubine.

Cant. 1.

To the tune of Flying Fame.

WHen as King Henrie rul'd this land, the second of that name, (Besides the Queene) he dearly lou'd a faire and princely Dame: Most pearelesse was her beautie found, Her fauour and her face: A sweeter creature in this world, did neuer Prince imbrace.

Her crisped Lockes, like threedes of Gold, appear'd to each mans sight: Her comely Eyes like orient Pearles, did cast a heauenly light: The Bloud within her christall Cheekes, did such a collour driue, As though the Lilly and the Rose, for maistership did striue.

Yea Rosamond, faire Rosamond, her name was called so. To whom Dame Elinor our Queene, was knowne a cruell foe: The King therefore for her defence, against the furious Queene, At Woodstocke buylded such a Bower, the like was neuer seene.

Most curiously that Bower was buylt, of Stone and Timber strong: A hundered and fiftie Doores, did to that Bower belong: And they so cunningly contriu'd with turnning round about, That none but with a Clew of Threed, could enter in or out.

And for his Loue and Ladyes sake that was so faire and Bright, The keeping of this Bower he gaue vnto a valiant Knight. But fortune that doth often frowne, where she before did smile, The Kings delight, the Ladyes ioy. full soone she did beguile.

For why, the Kinges vngratious sonne, whome he did high aduance, Against his Father raysed warres, within the Realme of France:

But yet before our comely King the English land forsooke, Of Rosamond his Lady faire, his fare well thus he tooke.

My Rosamond, my onely Rose, that pleaseth best mine eye: The fairest Rose in all the world, to feed my fantacie: The Flower of my affected heart, whose sweetnesse doth excell My royall Rose a hundred times, I bid thee now farewell.

For I must leaue my fairest Flower, my sweetest Rose a space, And crosse the Seas to famous France, proud Rebels to abase: But yet my Rose be sure thou shalt my comming shortly see. And in my heart while hence I am, Ile beare my Rose with mee.

When Rosamond, that Lady bright, did heare the King say so, The sorrow of her greeued heart, her outward lookes did show And from her cleare and christall eyes, the teares gusht out apace, Which like the siluer pearled dew, ran downe her comely face.

Her lips like to a Corrall red, did wax both wan and pale, And for the sorrow she conceiu'd her vitall spirits did fayle, And falling downe all in a sound, before King Henries face, Full oft betweene his princely armes, her corpes he did imbrace.

And twenty times with waterie eyes, he kist her tender cheeke, Vntill she had receiued againe her senses milde and meeke. Why grieues my Rose my sweetest Rose? (the King did euer say) Because (quoth she) to bloudy warres my Lord must part away.

But sith your Grace in forraine coastes, among your foes vnkind, Must go to hazard life and limme, why should I stay behind? Nay rather let me like a Page your Shield and Target beare, That on my breast that blow may light, which should annoy you there.

O let me in your royall Tent, prepare your Bed at night, And with sweete Bathes refresh your Grace, at your returne from fight,

So I your presence may enioy, no toyle I must refuse: But wanting you my life is death, which doth true loue abuse.

Content thy selfe, my dearest friend, thy rest at home shall bee: In Englands sweete and pleasant soyle, for trauaile fits not thee. Faire Ladyes brooke not bloudy Warres, sweete Peace their pleasures breede, The nourisher of hearts content, which Fancie first doth feede.

My Rose shall rest in Woodstocke Bower, with Musickes sweete delight, While I among the piercing Pikes, against my foes do fight, My Rose in Robes and Pearle of Gold, with Diamonds richly dight, Shall daunce the Galiards of my loue, while I my foes do smite.

And you sir Thomas whom I trust, to beare my Loues defence, Be carefull of my gallant Rose, when I am parted hence: The Flowers of my affected heart, whose sweetenesse doth excell, My royall Rose a hundred times, I bid thee now farewell.

And at their parting well they might, in heart be grieued sore, After that day faire Rosamond the King did see no more: For when his Grace did passe the seas and into France was gone, Queene Elinor with enuious heart, to Woodstocke came anone.

And foorth she cald this trustie Knight, which kept the curious Bower, Who with his Clew of twined Threed, came from that famous Flower. And whē that they had wounded him, the Queene his Threed did get, And went where Lady Rosamond was like an Angell set.

But when the Queene with stedfast eye, beheld her heauenly face, She was amazed in her minde, at her exceeding grace. Cast off from thee thy Robes (she said) that rich and costly bee, And drink thou vp this deadly draught which I haue brought for thee,

But presently vpon her knees, sweete Rosamond did fall, And pardon of the Queene she crau'd, for her offences all.

Take pittie on my youthfull yeares, (faire Rosamond did cry) And let me not with Poyson strong, inforced be to dye.

I will renounce this sinfull life, And in a Cloyster bide: Or else be banisht, if you please, to range the world so wide, And for the fault which I haue done, though I was forst thereto: Preserue my life and punnish me, as you thinke good to doe.

And with these words her lilly hands, shee wrongfull often there: And downe along her louely cheekes, proceeded many a teare. But nothing could this furious Queene, therewith apeased bee. The cup of deadly Poyson fild, as she sat on her knee.

Shee gaue the comely Dame to drinke, who tooke it in her hand And from her bended knee arose, and on her feete did stand: And casting vp her eyes to heauen, she did for mercie call, And drinking vp the Poyson then, her life she lost withall.

And when that Death through euery lim, had done his greatest spight. Her chiefest foes did plaine confesse, she was a glorious wight, Her body then they did intombe, when life was fled away, At Godstow, neere Oxford towne, as may be seene this day.

FINIS.