XI. On Thomas Lord Cromwell.................................................................................
It is ever the fate of a disgraced minister to be forsaken by his friends, and
insulted by his enemies, always reckoning among the latter the giddy inconstant
multitude. We have here a spurn at fallen greatness from some angry partisan of
declining Popery, who could never forgive the downfall of their Diana, and loss of
their craft. The ballad seems to have been composed between the time of Cromwell's
commitment to the Tower, June 11, 1540, and that of his being beheaded, July 28
following. A short interval! but Henry's passion for Catharine Howard would admit of
no delay. Notwithstanding our libeller, Cromwell had many excellent qualities: his
great fault was too much obsequiousness to the arbitrary will of his master; but let it
be considered that this master had raised him from obscurity, and that the high-born
nobility had shewn him the way in every kind of mean and servile compliance. The
original copy printed at London in 1540, is intitled, "A newe ballade made of Thomas
Crumwel, calledTrolle on away." To it is prefixed this distich by way of burthen,
Trolle on away, trolle on awaye.
Synge heave and howe rombelowe trolle on away.BOTH man and chylde is glad to here tell
Of that false traytoure Thomas Crumwell,
Now that he is set to learne to spell.
Synge trolle on away.
When fortune lokyd the in thy face,
Thou haddyst fayre tyme, but thou lackydyst grace;
Thy cofers with golde thou fyllydst a pace,
Synge, &c.
Both plate and chalys came to thy fyst,
Thou lockydst them vp where no man wyst,
Tyll in the kynges treasoure such things were myst.
Synge, &c.
Both crust and crumme came thorowe thy handes,
Thy marchaundyse sayled over the sandes,
Therfore nowe thou art layde fast in bandes.
Synge, &c.
Fyrste when Kynge Henry, God saue his grace!
Perceyud myschefe kyndlyd in thy face,
Then it was tyme to purchase the a place.
Synge, &c.
Hys grace was euer of gentyll nature,
Mouyd with petye, and made the hys seruyture;
But thou, as a wretche, suche thinges dyd procure.
Synge, &c.
Thou dyd not remembre, false heretyke,
One God, one fayth, and one kynge catholyke,
For thou hast bene so long a scysmatyke.
Synge, &c.