She stepp'd to him as red as any rose, Catching hold of his bridle-ring: "Pray you, kind fir, give me one penny, To ease my weary limb." "I prithee fweet-heart, can't thou tell me, "I prithee, fweet-heart, can't thou tell me, Whether thou dost know The bailiffs daughter of Iflington." "She's dead, fir, long ago." "Then will I fell my goodly fteed, My faddle and my bow; I will into fome far country, Where no man doth me know." "Oftay, O ftay, thou goodly youth, "O farewell grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times and more; For now I have feen mine own true love, That I thought I should have feen no more!" BALLAD BALLAD XI. THE KING OF FRANCE'S DAUGHTER. * N the days of old, IN When fair France did flourish, Stories plainly told, Lovers felt annoy: The king a daughter had, Beauteous, fair, and lovely, He woo'd her long, and lo, at last, She granted his defire; Their hearts in one were linked fast. And tormented in his mind! Fortune croffed lovers kind. The full title in the old copies, is "An excellent ballad of a C prince of Englands courtship to the king of France's daughter, and how the prince was difafterously flain, and how the aforefaid princess was afterwards married to a Forrefter." When When these princes twain Were thus barr'd of pleasure, Through the kings disdain, Which their joys withstood: The lady lock'd up clofe Her jewels and her treasure, Having no remorse, Of state and royal blood: In homely poor array, She went from court away, To meet her love and hearts delight : Who in a forest great Had taken up his feat, To wait her coming in the night : The princefs armed by him, Within echos call, You fair woods, quoth fhe, Honoured may you be, Harbouring my hearts delight: Which Which doth encompass here, My trufty friend and comely knight. Sweet, I come to woo thee, That thou may'ft not angry be, For my long delaying, And thy courteous staying, Amends for all I'll make to thee. Paffing thus alone, Through the filent foreft, Many a grievous groan, Sounded in her ear; Where she heard a man To lament the forest Chance that ever came ; For why my life is at an end; To fhow I am a faithful friend: Here lie I a bleeding, While my thoughts are feeding, On the rarest beauty found; O hard hap that may be, My hearts blood lies on the ground. 239 With With that he gave a groan, That did break asunder All the tender ftrings Of his gentle heart; She who knew his voice, At his tale did wonder, All her former joys Did to grief convert : Straight fhe ran to fee, Who this man should be, That fo like her love did speak; And found, when as he came, Her lovely lord lay flain, Smear'd in blood, which life did break: Which when the efpied, Lord, how sore she cried ! Her forrows could not counted be; Her eyes like fountains running, While fhe cried out, My darling, Would God that I had died for thee! His pale lips, alas! Twenty times fhe kiffed, And his face did wash With her brinish tears; Every bleeding wound, Her fair face bedewed, Wiping off the blood With her golden hair: Speak, my love, quoth fhe, Speak, dear prince, to me, One |