VIII. THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON. FROM an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, with some improvements. Islington in Norfolk is probably the place here meant. THERE was a youthe, and a well-beloved | She sat her downe upon a green bank, FROM the small black-letter collection, entitled The Golden Garland of princely Delights, collated with two other copies, and corrected by conjecture. Is given (with corrections) from the Editor's ancient folio MS., collated with two printed copies in black letter; one in the British Museum, the other in the Pepys Collection. MARKE well my heavy dolefull tale, And heedfully beare in your brest A gallant ladyes fall. Long was she wooed, ere shee was wonne, To lead a wedded life, But folly wrought her overthrowe Before shee was a wife. Too soone, alas! shee gave consent And faithfull to her still. Shee felt her body altered quite, Her bright hue waxed pale, Her lovelye cheeks chang'd color white, be worth the time I eer believ'd That flattering tongue of thine: Wold God that I had never seene The teares of thy false eyne. And thus with many a sorrowful sigh, Homewards shee went againe ; Noe rest came in her waterye eyes, Shee felt such privye paine. Shee called up her waiting mayd, Began full fast to weepe. Weepe not, said shee, but shutt the dores, And windowes round about, Let none bewray my wretched state, But keepe all persons out. O mistress, call your mother deare The midwifes helpe comes all too late, My death I doe not feare. With that the babe sprang from her wombe, And with one sighe, which brake her hart, Next morning came her own true love, And he for sorrow slew himselfe, The mother with her new borne babe, Take heed, you dayntye damsells all, Too true, alas! this story is, As many one can tell : By others harmes learne to be wise, XI.-WALY WALY, LOVE BE BONNY. A SCOTTISH SONG. Some THIS is a very ancient song, but we could only give it from a modern copy. editions instead of the four last lines in the second stanza have these, which have too much merit to be wholly suppressed : Arthur's Seat, mentioned in ver. 17, is a hill near Edinburgh, at the bottom of which is St. Anthony's well. O waly waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly yon burn side, Where I and my love wer wont to gae. I leant my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; But first it bow'd, and syne it brak, Sae my true love did lichtly me. FROM two ancient copies in black letter, one in the Pepys Collection, the other in the British Museum. To the tune of "" COME mourne, come mourne with mee, Lament my loss in weeds of woe, Like to the drooping vine, Cut by the gardener's knife, Even so my heart, with sorrow slaine, Doth bleed for my sweet wife. By death, that grislye ghost, My turtle dove is slaine, And I am left, unhappy man, To spend my days in paine. IIer beauty late so bright, Like roses in their prime, Is wasted like the mountain snowe, Before warme Phebus' shine. IIer faire red colour'd cheeks Now pale and wan; her eyes, The Lady's Fall." That late did shine like crystal stars, Alas, their light it dies : Her prettye lilly hands, With fingers long and small, In colour like the earthly claye, Yea, cold and stiff withall. When as the morning-star Her golden gates had spred And that the glittering sun arose Forth from fair Thetis' bed. Then did my love awake, Most like a lilly-dower, And as the lovely queene of heaven, So shone shee in her bower. Attired was shee then; Like Flora in her pride, Like one of bright Diana's nymphs, So look'd my loving bride. |