Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England Part 3

RICH MAN.

What! must I die and leave a vast estate, Which, with my gold, I purchased but of late?

Besides what I had many years ago? - What! must my wealth and I be parted so?

If you your darts and arrows must let fly, Go search the jails, where mourning debtors lie; Release them from their sorrow, grief, and woe, For I am rich and therefore loth to go.

DEATH.

I'll search no jails, but the right mark I'll hit; And though you are unwilling to submit, Yet die you must, no other friend can do, - Prepare yourself to go, I'm come for you.

If you had all the world and ten times more, Yet die you must,--there's millions gone before; The greatest kings on earth yield and obey, And at my feet their crowns and sceptres lay: If crowned heads and right renowned peers Die in the prime and blossoms of their years, Can you suppose to gain a longer s.p.a.ce?

No! I will send you to another place.

RICH MAN.

Oh! stay thy hand and be not so severe, I have a hopeful son and daughter dear, All that I beg is but to let me live That I may them in lawful marriage give: They being young when I am laid in the grave, I fear they will be wronged of what they have: Although of me you will no pity take, Yet spare me for my little infants' sake.

DEATH.

If such a vain excuse as this might do, It would be long ere mortals would go through The shades of death; for every man would find Something to say that he might stay behind.

Yet, if ten thousand arguments they'd use, The destiny of dying to excuse, They'll find it is in vain with me to strive, For why, I part the dearest friends alive; Poor parents die, and leave their children small With nothing to support them here withal, But the kind hand of gracious Providence, Who is their father, friend, and sole defence.

Though I have held you long in disrepute, Yet after all here with a sharp salute I'll put a period to your days and years, Causing your eyes to flow with dying tears.

RICH MAN.

[Then with a groan he made this sad complaint]: My heart is dying, and my spirits faint; To my close chamber let me be conveyed; Farewell, false world, for thou hast me betrayed.

Would I had never wronged the fatherless, Nor mourning widows when in sad distress; Would I had ne'er been guilty of that sin, Would I had never known what gold had been; For by the same my heart was drawn away To search for gold: but now this very day, I find it is but like a slender reed, Which fails me most when most I stand in need; For, woe is me! the time is come at last, Now I am on a bed of sorrow cast, Where in lamenting tears I weeping lie, Because my sins make me afraid to die: Oh! Death, be pleased to spare me yet awhile, That I to G.o.d myself may reconcile, For true repentance some small time allow; I never feared a future state till now!

My bags of gold and land I'd freely give, For to obtain the favour here to live, Until I have a sure foundation laid.

Let me not die before my peace be made!

DEATH.

Thou hast not many minutes here to stay, Lift up your heart to G.o.d without delay, Implore his pardon now for what is past, Who knows but He may save your soul at last?

RICH MAN.

I'll water now with tears my dying bed, Before the Lord my sad complaint I'll spread, And if He will vouchsafe to pardon me, To die and leave this world I could be free.

False world! false world, farewell! farewell! adieu!

I find, I find, there is no trust in you!

For when upon a dying bed we lie, Your gilded baits are nought but misery.

My youthful son and loving daughter dear, Take warning by your dying father here; Let not the world deceive you at this rate, For fear a sad repentance comes too late.

Sweet babes, I little thought the other day, I should so suddenly be s.n.a.t.c.hed away By Death, and leave you weeping here behind; But life's a most uncertain thing, I find.

When in the grave my head is lain full low, Pray let not folly prove your overthrow; Serve ye the Lord, obey his holy will, That he may have a blessing for you still.

[Having saluted them, he turned aside, These were the very words before he died]:

A painful life I ready am to leave, Wherefore, in mercy, Lord, my soul receive.

Poem: A DIALOGUE BETWIXT AN EXCISEMAN AND DEATH.

[Transcribed from a copy in the British Museum, printed in London by J. C[larke]., 1659. The idea of Death being employed to execute a writ, recalls an epitaph which we remember to have seen in a village church-yard at the foot of the Wrekin, in Shrops.h.i.+re, commencing thus:-

'The King of Heaven a warrant got, And sealed it without delay, And he did give the same to Death, For him to serve straightway,' &c.]

Upon a time when t.i.tan's steeds were driven To drench themselves beneath the western heaven; And sable Morpheus had his curtains spread, And silent night had laid the world to bed; 'Mongst other night-birds which did seek for prey, A blunt exciseman, which abhorred the day, Was rambling forth to seek himself a booty 'Mongst merchant's goods which had not paid the duty; But walking all alone, Death chanced to meet him, And in this manner did begin to greet him.

DEATH.

Stand, who comes here? what means this knave to peep And skulk abroad, when honest men should sleep?

Speak, what's thy name? and quickly tell me this, Whither thou goest, and what thy business is?

EXCISEMAN.

Whate'er my business is, thou foul-mouthed scold, I'd have you know I scorn to be controlled By any man that lives; much less by thou, Who blurtest out thou know'st not what, nor how; I go about my lawful business; and I'll make you smart for bidding of me stand.

DEATH.

Imperious c.o.xcomb! is your stomach vexed?

Pray slack your rage, and hearken what comes next: I have a writ to take you up; therefore, To chafe your blood, I bid you stand, once more.

EXCISEMAN.

A writ to take ME up! excuse me, sir, You do mistake, I am an officer In public service, for my private wealth; My business is, if any seek by stealth To undermine the state, I do discover Their falsehood; therefore hold your hand,--give over.

DEATH.

Nay, fair and soft! 'tis not so quickly done As you conceive it is: I am not gone A jot the sooner for your hasty chat, Nor bragging language; for I tell you flat 'Tis more than so, though fortune seem to thwart us, Such easy terms I don't intend shall part us.

With this impartial arm I'll make you feel My fingers first, and with this shaft of steel I'll peck thy bones! AS THOU ALIVE WERT HATED, SO DEAD, TO DOGS THOU SHALT BE SEGREGATED.

EXCISEMAN.

I'd laugh at that; I would thou didst but dare To lay thy fingers on me; I'd not spare To hack thy carca.s.s till my sword was broken, I'd make thee eat the words which thou hast spoken; All men should warning take by thy transgression, How they molested men of my profession.

My service to the State is so well known, That should I but complain, they'd quickly own My public grievances; and give me right To cut your ears, before tomorrow night.

DEATH.

Well said, indeed! but bootless all, for I Am well acquainted with thy villany; I know thy office, and thy trade is such, Thy service little, and thy gains are much: Thy brags are many; but 'tis vain to swagger, And think to fight me with thy gilded dagger: AS I ABHOR THY PERSON, PLACE, AND THREAT, So now I'll bring thee to the judgment-seat.

EXCISEMAN.

The judgment-seat! I must confess that word Doth cut my heart, like any sharpened sword: What! come t' account! methinks the dreadful sound Of every word doth make a mortal wound, Which sticks not only in my outward skin, But penetrates my very soul within.

'Twas least of all my thoughts that ever Death Would once attempt to stop excis.e.m.e.n's breath.

But since 'tis so, that now I do perceive You are in earnest, then I must relieve Myself another way: come, we'll be friends; If I have wronged thee, I'll make th' amends.

Let's join together; I'll pa.s.s my word this night Shall yield us grub, before the morning light.

Or otherwise (to mitigate my sorrow), Stay here, I'll bring you gold enough to-morrow.