Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 17

'Sir! my servants have related, How some hours you have waited In my parlour,--tell me who In my house you ever knew?'

'Madam! if I have offended, It is more than I intended; A young lady brought me here:' - 'That is true,' said she, 'my dear.

'I can be no longer cruel To my joy, and only jewel; Thou art mine, and I am thine, Hand and heart I do resign!

'Once I was a wounded lover, Now these fears are fairly over; By receiving what I gave, Thou art lord of what I have.'

Beauty, honour, love, and treasure, A rich golden stream of pleasure, With his lady he enjoys; Thanks to Cupid's kind decoys.

Now he's clothed in rich attire, Not inferior to a squire; Beauty, honour, riches' store, What can man desire more?

Ballad: THE n.o.bLEMAN'S GENEROUS KINDNESS.

Giving an account of a n.o.bleman, who, taking notice of a poor man's industrious care and pains for the maintaining of his charge of seven small children, met him upon a day, and discoursing with him, invited him, and his wife and his children, home to his house, and bestowed upon them a farm of thirty acres of land, to be continued to him and his heirs for ever.

To the tune of The Two English Travellers.

[This still popular ballad is ent.i.tled in the modern copies, The n.o.bleman and Thrasher; or, the Generous Gift. There is a copy preserved in the Roxburgh Collection, with which our version has been collated. It is taken from a broadside printed by Robert Marchbank, in the Custom-house Entry, Newcastle.]

A n.o.bleman lived in a village of late, Hard by a poor thrasher, whose charge it was great; For he had seven children, and most of them small, And nought but his labour to support them withal.

He never was given to idle and lurk, For this n.o.bleman saw him go daily to work, With his flail and his bag, and his bottle of beer, As cheerful as those that have hundreds a year.

Thus careful, and constant, each morning he went, Unto his daily labour with joy and content; So jocular and jolly he'd whistle and sing, As blithe and as brisk as the birds in the spring.

One morning, this n.o.bleman taking a walk, He met this poor man, and he freely did talk; He asked him [at first] many questions at large, And then began talking concerning his charge.

'Thou hast many children, I very well know, Thy labour is hard, and thy wages are low, And yet thou art cheerful; I pray tell me true, How can you maintain them as well as you do?'

'I carefully carry home what I do earn, My daily expenses by this I do learn; And find it is possible, though we be poor, To still keep the ravenous wolf from the door.

'I reap and I mow, and I harrow and sow, Sometimes a hedging and ditching I go; No work comes amiss, for I thrash, and I plough, Thus my bread I do earn by the sweat of my brow.

'My wife she is willing to pull in a yoke, We live like two lambs, nor each other provoke; We both of us strive, like the labouring ant, And do our endeavours to keep us from want.

'And when I come home from my labour at night, To my wife and my children, in whom I delight; To see them come round me with prattling noise, - Now these are the riches a poor man enjoys.

'Though I am as weary as weary may be, The youngest I commonly dance on my knee; I find that content is a moderate feast, I never repine at my lot in the least.'

Now the n.o.bleman hearing what he did say, Was pleased, and invited him home the next day; His wife and his children he charged him to bring; In token of favour he gave him a ring.

He thanked his honour, and taking his leave, He went to his wife, who would hardly believe But this same story himself he might raise; Yet seeing the ring she was [lost] in amaze.

Betimes in the morning the good wife she arose, And made them all fine, in the best of their clothes; The good man with his good wife, and children small, They all went to dine at the n.o.bleman's hall.

But when they came there, as truth does report, All things were prepared in a plentiful sort; And they at the n.o.bleman's table did dine, With all kinds of dainties, and plenty of wine.

The feast being over, he soon let them know, That he then intended on them to bestow A farm-house, with thirty good acres of land; And gave them the writings then, with his own hand.

'Because thou art careful, and good to thy wife, I'll make thy days happy the rest of thy life; It shall be for ever, for thee and thy heirs, Because I beheld thy industrious cares.'

No tongue then is able in full to express The depth of their joy, and true thankfulness; With many a curtsey, and bow to the ground, - Such n.o.blemen there are but few to be found.

Ballad: THE DRUNKARD'S LEGACY. IN THREE PARTS.

First, giving an account of a gentlemen a having a wild son, and who, foreseeing he would come to poverty, had a cottage built with one door to it, always kept fast; and how, on his dying bed, he charged him not to open it till he was poor and slighted, which the young man promised he would perform. Secondly, of the young man's p.a.w.ning his estate to a vintner, who, when poor, kicked him out of doors; when thinking it time to see his legacy, he broke open the cottage door, where instead of money he found a gibbet and halter, which he put round his neck, and jumping off the stool, the gibbet broke, and a thousand pounds came down upon his head, which lay hid in the ceiling. Thirdly, of his redeeming his estate, and fooling the vintner out of two hundred pounds; who, for being jeered by his neighbours, cut his own throat. And lastly, of the young man's reformation. Very proper to be read by all who are given to drunkenness.

[Percy, in the introductory remarks to the ballad of The Heir of Linne, says, 'the original of this ballad [The Heir of Linne] is found in the editor's folio MS.; the breaches and defects of which rendered the insertion of supplemental stanzas necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, as, indeed, the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on a similar subject.' The ballad thus alluded to by Percy is The Drunkard's Legacy, which, it may be remarked, although styled by him a MODERN ballad, is only so comparatively speaking; for it must have been written long anterior to Percy's time, and, by his own admission, must be older than the latter portion of the Heir of Linne. Our copy is taken from an old chap-book, without date or printer's name, and which is decorated with three rudely executed wood-cuts.]

Young people all, I pray draw near, And listen to my ditty here; Which subject shows that drunkenness Brings many mortals to distress!

As, for example, now I can Tell you of one, a gentleman, Who had a very good estate, His earthly travails they were great.

We understand he had one son Who a lewd wicked race did run; He daily spent his father's store, When moneyless, he came for more.

The father oftentimes with tears, Would this alarm sound in his ears; 'Son! thou dost all my comfort blast, And thou wilt come to want at last.'

The son these words did little mind, To cards and dice he was inclined; Feeding his drunken appet.i.te In taverns, which was his delight.

The father, ere it was too late, He had a project in his pate, Before his aged days were run, To make provision for his son.

Near to his house, we understand, He had a waste plat of land, Which did but little profit yield, On which he did a cottage build.

The Wise Man's Project was its name; There were few windows in the same; Only one door, substantial thing, Shut by a lock, went by a spring.

Soon after he had played this trick, It was his lot for to fall sick; As on his bed he did lament, Then for his drunken son he sent.

He shortly came to his bedside; Seeing his son, he thus replied: 'I have sent for you to make my will, Which you must faithfully fulfil.

'In such a cottage is one door, Ne'er open it, do thou be sure, Until thou art so poor, that all Do then despise you, great and small.

'For, to my grief, I do perceive, When I am dead, this life you live Will soon melt all thou hast away; Do not forget these words, I pray.

'When thou hast made thy friends thy foes, p.a.w.ned all thy lands, and sold thy clothes; Break ope the door, and there depend To find something thy griefs to end.'

This being spoke, the son did say, 'Your dying words I will obey.'

Soon after this his father dear Did die, and buried was, we hear.