4

Convey me to fome fecret place,

And marry me with speed ;
Or with thy rapier end my life,
Ere further fhame proceed.

Alas! my deareft love, quoth he,
My greatest joy on earth,
Which way can I convey thee hence,

Without a fudden death?

Thy friends they be of high degree,
And I of mean estate;

Full hard it is to get thee forth

Out of thy fathers gate.

Oh! do not fear to fave my fame,
For if thou taken be,

Myself will step between the fwords,

And take the harm on me:
So fhall I fcape dishonour quite;

And if I fhould be flain,

What could they fay, but that true love,
Had wrought a ladys bane ?

And fear not any further harm;

Myfelf will fo devife,

That I will ride away

with thee,

Unfeen of mortal eyes:

Disguised like fome pretty page,

I'll meet thee in the dark,
And all alone I'll come to thee,

Hard by my fathers park.

P 2

And

And there, quoth he, I'll meet thee,
If God fo lend me life,

And this day month, without all fail,
I will make thee my wife.
Then, with a fweet and loving kiss,
They parted presently,

And at their parting brinish tears
Stood in each others eye.

At length the wifh'd-for day was come,
On which this beauteous maid,
With lovely eyes, and ftrange attire,
For her true lover stay'd
When any perfon fhe efpied

Come riding o'er the plain,

She thought it was her own true love,
But all her hopes were vain.

Then did the weep, and fore bewail
Her most unhappy state;

Then did the fpeak thefe woeful words,
When fuccourlefs fhe fate:

O falfe, forfworn, and faithlefs wretch,
Disloyal to thy love,

Haft thou forgot thy promife made,
And wilt thou perjur'd prove?

And haft thou now forfaken me,
In this my great diftrefs,

To end my days in open fhame,
Which thou might'it well redress?

Woe

Woe worth the time I did believe

That flattering tongue of thine; Would God that I had never feen The tears of thy false eyne!

And thus, with many a forrowful figh,
Homewards fhe went again;
No reft came in her watery eyes,
She felt fuch bitter pain.

In travail strong she fell that night,
With many a bitter throe;
What woeful pangs fhe then did feel,
Doth each good woman know.

She called up her waiting maid,
That lay at her beds feet,
Who, musing at her miftrefs' woe,
Did ftraight begin to weep.
Weep not, faid fhe, but shut the door,
And windows round about,

Let none bewail my wretched ftate,
But keep all perfons out.

O mistress, call your mother dear,
Of women you have need,
And of fome skilful midwifes help,
That better you may speed.
Call not my mother, for thy life,

Nor call the women here,

The midwifes help comes all too late,

My death I do not fear.

With that the babe sprang in her womb,
No creature being nigh,

And with a figh, which brake her heart,
This gallant dame did die.
This living little infant young,
The mother being dead,
Refign'd his new received breath
To him that had him made.

Next morning came her lover true,
Affrighted at this news,
And he for forrow flew himself,
Whom each one did accufe.

The mother with the new-born babe,
Were both laid in one grave :
Their parents overcome with woe,
No joy of them could have.

Take heed, you dainty damfels all,
Of flattering words beware,
And of the honour of your names
Have you a fpecial care.

Too true, alas! this story is,
As many one can tell :

By others harms learn to be wife,
And you shall do full well.

BALLAD

BALLAD VII.

LITTLE MUSGRAVE AND LADY BARNARD.

S it fell one holyday,

As many be in the year,

When young men and maids together did go
Their maffes and matins to hear,

Little Mufgràve came to the church door,

The priest he was at mass;

But he had more mind of the fair women,
Than he had of our ladys grace.

The one of them was clad in green,
The other was clad in pall;

And then came in my lord Barnards wife,
The fairest among them all.

She caft an eye on little Mufgràve,
As bright as the fummer fun :
O then bethought this little Mufgràve,
This ladys heart I have won.

Quoth fhe, I have lov'd thee, little Mufgràve,

Full long and many a day,

So have I loved you, lady fair,

Yet word I never durft say.