Tea | 
of Roland, a famous peer of Charle- 
magne; and the great revolution of 
1688 was partly effected by the well- 
known song of Lillibulero, made on the 
appointment of Talbot to the lieute- 
nancy of Ireland. Thesong of Roland 
is lost, but we still have Lillibulero, the 
first and best verse of which is the fol- 
lowing: 
Ho! hroder Teague, dost hear de decree? 
- Lilli bulero bu len a-la, 
Dat we shall have a new deputee, 
Lilli bulero bullen a-la. 
Lero lero, lilli bulero, lero lero bullen a-la, 
Lero lero, lilli bulero, lero lero bullen a-la. 
Ho! by Shaint Tyburn, it is de Talbote : 
Lilli, &e. 
This miserable doggrel, we are told, 
had a more powerful effect than either 
the orations of Cicero or Demosthenes : 
the impression it made, according to 
- Burnet, can only be imagined by those 
that saw it; ‘the whole army, and at 
last, the people, both in city and coun- 
try, were singing it perpetually,’ 
“What mighty contests rise from trivial 
things,” 
is proverbial, but the power and fasci- 
nation of the old metrical romance, ap- 
pears, at first view, inexplicable. “I 
never heard,” says Sir Philip Sydney, 
“ the old song of Percie and Douglas, 
that I found not my heart moved more 
than with a trumpet;” and Ben Jon- 
son used to say he had rather have 
been the author of that fine old ballad 
than all his works. Addison, who had 
seen only a later version of Chevy Chase 
of the time of Elizabeth, has compared 
the fine passages with the best parts of 
Virgil; and it must be allowed, if po- 
etical excellence consists in the power 
to yield pleasure to the greatest number 
of individuals, that the Chevy Chase of 
the English bard is superior to the 
Aimeid of the Roman poet. 
If, in fact, we examine the materiel of 
the ancient ballads, we shall cease to 
wonder at the admiration they have ex- 
cited. They contain the soul of true 
poetry. There is in them all that can 
move the heart, delight the imagination, 
or chain the attention. Scenes of love 
and tenderness—the adventures of chi- 
ete frolics of kings and tinkers 
—of robbers, gypsies, and friars, form 
their subjects; and these narrated ina 
style of unaffected simplicity, and with 
a vigour and sincerity of feeling, that 
give the impress of reality to the crea- 
tions of the imagination. That such 
themes, so treated, should interest, is 
far from wonderful. The sources on 
Monvtuiy MAG, No, 365. 
Beauties of the Old Ballad. 
121 
which they draw for admiration are uni- 
versal, and will find a mirror in every 
bosom: they appeal to nature—to our 
passions—our love--hatred and curiosity 
—and that any numerous class should 
be insensible to such appeals, would be 
more surprising than that their’ domi- 
nien is universal. Add to this, the old 
ballads derive some advantage even 
from rudeness and antiquity; the no- 
velty of an obsolete language, and the 
glimpse of ancient manners, conduciug 
in part to their general attractions. 
Besides, they rarely contain any wire- 
drawn poem, or complicated plot: the 
old songs, it is true, are of the nature 
of epics, with a beginning, a middle, 
and an end; but the plot generally 
turns on a simple incident, comprised 
in a few stanzas, apparently struck out 
at a heat, and starting with a vigour 
and impetuosity that inclines the reader 
to sing them after the minstrel fashion, 
rather than recite them like ordinary 
verse. Their grossieretés are the fault 
of all early writing, and as long as the 
staple commodity is good, to demur on 
account of indelicacies of language, 
would be like shunniag a person, other- 
wise unexceptionable, on account of his 
clothes. No doubt, any modern imi- 
tation of these defects would be disgust- 
ing enough, inasmuch as we should not 
expect from an educated person the 
behaviour of a clown; but in the old 
bards, their freedom and simplicity 
augment their value, by clothing them 
with the venerable hoar of antiquity, 
which, like the crust on good old port, 
attests their-age and genuineness. 
We will now give a few specimens of 
the Old English Ballads; they are a 
fruitful mine, from which later poets 
have drawn the rude materials of their 
finest poetry, and polished it into gems 
of the purest ray. Even the Great 
Dramatist has been largely indebted to 
the old bards;—the plot of the ‘« Mer- 
chant of Venice’’ is evidently taken 
from the ancient ballad, entitled “ A 
new Song, show the crueltie of Ger- 
nutus, a Jewe, who lending to a mer- 
chant one hundred crownes, would 
have a pound of his fleshe, because he 
could not pay him at the time appoint- 
ed. To the tune of ‘ Black and Yel- 
low.’”’ 
The sequel of Gernutus’s story cor- 
responds exactly with the remorseless 
Shylock. 
The bloudie Jew now ready is 
With whetted blade in hand, 
To spoyle the bloud of innocent, 
By forfeit of his bond. 
Q Aud 
