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O Yarrow fields, may never, never rain, Queene; and the son of a king is in the same poem

Nor dew thy tender blossoms cover! called “Child Tristram.” And it ought to be obFor there was basely slain my luve,

served that the word child or chield is still used in My luve, as he had not been a luver!

North Britain to denominate a man, commonly

with some contemptuous character affixed to him, The boy put on his robes, his robes of

green, but sometimes to denote man in general.
His purple vest, 'twas my awn sewing:
Ah wretched me! I little, little kenn'd Childe Waters in his stable stoode,
He was in these to meet his ruin.

And stroakt his milke-white steede :

To him a fayre yonge ladye came
The boy took out his milk-white, mill-

As ever ware womans weede.
white steed,
Unheedful of my dule and sorrow; Sayes, Christ

you save! good Childe Waters, But, ere the dewfall of the night,

Sayes, Christ you save! and see,
He lay a corpse on the Braes of Yarrow. My girdle of gold, that was too longe,

Is now too short for mee.
Much I rejoic'd that waeful, waeful day;

I sang, my voice the woods returning: And all is with one childe of yours, But lang ere night the spear was flown, I feele sturre at my side:

That slew myluve, and left me mourning. My gowne of greene' it is too strait;
What can my barbarous, barbarous father do,

Before it was too wide.
But with his cruel rage pursue me?
My luver's blood is on thy spear !

If the childe be mine, faire Ellen, he sayd, How canst thou, barbarous man! then

Be mine, as you tell mee; wooe me?

Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,

Take them your owne to bee. My happy sisters may be, may be proud ;

With cruel and ungentle scoffin', If the childe be mine, faire Ellen, he sayd, May bid me seek on Yarrow's Braes

Be mine, as you doe sweare ; My luver nailed in his coffin :

Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both, My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid, And make that childe your heyre. And strive with threatning words to muve

Shee sayes, I had rather have one kine, me; My luver’s blood is on thy spear !

Childe Waters, of thy mouth; How canst thou ever bid me lure thee?

Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire

That lye by north and southe. [both, Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve,

With bridal sheets my body, cuver : And I had rather have one twinkling, Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door,

Childe Waters, of thine ee; Let in the expected husbande luver. Then I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire

To take thein mine owne to bee. But who the expected husband, husband is ?

[both, His hands, methinks, are bath'd in slaugh-To-morrow, Ellen, I must forth ryde ter :

Farr into the north countree;
Ah me! what ghastly spectre's yon The fayrest ladye that I can finde,
Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after ?

Ellen, must go with mee.
Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down, Thoughe I am not that ladye fayre,
O lay his cold head on my pillow;

Yet let me goe with thee:
Take aff, take aff these bridal weids,

And

ever, I pray you, Childe Waters, And crown my careful head with willow.

Your foot-page let me bee.
Palethough thou art, yet best, yet best beluv’d, If you will my foot-page bee, Ellen,
O could my warmth to life restore thee !

As
you

doe tell to mee; Yet lye all night between my briests,

Then you must cut your gowne of greene
No youth lay ever there before thee.

An inch above your knee.
Pale, pale indeed ! O luvely, luvely youth,
Forgive, forgive so foul a slaughter,

Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,

An inch above your ee : And lye all night between my briests,

You must tell no man what is my name; No youth shall ever lye there after.

My foot-page then you shall bee. 1. Return, return, O mournful mournful bride,

Return, and dry thy useless sorrowe; Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode, Thy luver heeds nought of thy sighs,

Ran barefoot by his syde;
He lies a corpse on the Braes of Yarrow. Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte,

To say, Ellen will you ryde?

Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode, $ 122. Childe Waters.

Ran barefoote thorow the broome; HILD is frequently used by our old writers as a title. Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte, It is repeatedly given to Prince Arthur in the Faerie To say, Put on your shoone.

Ride softlye, shee sayd, O Childe Waters, It is more meete for a little foot-page,
Why doe you ride so fast?

That has run throughe mosse and myre,
The childe, which is no man's but thine, To take his supper upon his knee,
My body itt will brast.

And lye by the kitchen fyre.

Now when they had supped every one, Hee sayth, Seest thou yond water, Ellen,

To bedd they tooke theyre waye : That Aows from banke or brimme?

He sayd, Come hither, my little foot-page, I trust in God, () Childe Waters,

And hearken what I saye:
You never will see * ine swimine !

Goe thee downe unto yonder towne,
But when shee came to the water syde, . And lowe into the streete;
She sayled to the chinne :

The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde
Nowe the Lorde of Heaven be my speede, Hyre, in mine armes to sleepe;
For I must learne to swimme!

And take her up in thine armes twaine,
The salt waters bare up her clothes ;

For filing + of her feete. Our Ladye bare up her chinne :

Ellen is gone into the towne, Childe Waters was a woe man, good Lord, And lowe into the streete; To see faire Ellen swimme!

The fayrest ladye that she colde finde,

She hyred in his armes to sleepe; And when shee over the water was,

And took her up in her armes twayne, Shee then came to his knee;

For filing of her feete. 1 Hee sayd, Come hither, thou fayre Ellen, Loe yonder what I see !

I pray you nowe, good Childe Waters,

Let me lye at your feete: Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?

For there is noe place about this house Of red gold shines the yate:

Where i may saye I a sleepe. Of twenty-four faire ladyes there,

He

gave her leave, and faire Ellen The fairest is my mate.

Down at his beds feet laye :

This done, the night drove on apace;
Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of red gold shines the towre:

And, when it was near the daye,
There are twenty-four fayre ladyes there, Hee sayd, Rise up, my little foot-page!
The fayrest is my paramoure.

Give my steede corne and haye;

And give him nowe the good black oates, I see the hall now, Childe Waters,

To carry mee better awaye.
Of red gold shines the gate :
God give you good now of yourselfe,

Up then rose the fayre Ellen,
And of your worthy mate.

And gave his steede corne and haye ;

And soe shee did the good black oates,
I see the hall now, Childe Waters,

To carry him better awaye.
Of red gold shines the towre:

She leaned her back to the manger side,
God give you good now of yourself,

And grievouslye did groane: And of your paramoure.

Shee leaned her back to the manger side,

And there she made her moane.
There twenty-four fayre ladyes were
A playing at the ball;

And that beheard his mother deare,
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,

She heard her woeful woe, Must bring his steed to ihe stall.

She sayd, Rise up, thou Childe Watèrs,

And into thy stable goe;
There twenty-four fayre ladyes were

For in thy stable is a ghost,
A playinge at the chesse;
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,

That grievouslye doth grone:
Must bring his horse to gresse.

Or else some woman laboures with childe,

She is so woe-begone. And then bespake Childe Waters sistèr,

Up then rose Childe Waters soone, These were the wordes sayd shee :

And did on his shirte of silke;
You have the prettyest page, brother,

And then he put on his other clothes,
That ever I did see.

On his bodye as white as milke.
But that his bellye it is soe bigge,

And when he came to the stable dore,
His girdle stands soe hye:

Full still there hee did stand,
And ever,

I
pray you, Childe Waters,

That he might heare his fayre Ellen,
Let him in my chamber lye.

Howe shee made her monànd s.
It is not fit for a little foot-page,

She sayd, Lullabye, mine owne deare childe, That has run thro mosse and myre;

Lullabye, deare childe, dear:
To lye in the chamber of any ladye

I wolde thy father were a kinge,
That wears so rich attyre.

Thy mother layd on a biere !
• Permit, suffer. + Defiling. Essay, attempt. Moaning bemoaning.

Peace nowe, hee sayd, good faire Ellen, Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake; Bee of good cheere, I praye!

With none but honest men hands will I take. And the bridale and the churchinge bothe Shall be upon one daye.

Thus they went all along unto the miller's house;

(souse: Where they were scething of puddings and

The miller first entered in, after him went the $ 123. The King and the Miller of Mansfield.

king, It has been a favourite subject with our English ballad- Never came hee in soe smoakye a house.

makers, to represent our kings conversing either by Now, quoth he, let me see here what you are. accident or design with the meanest of their subjects. Quoth our king, Look your fill, and do not spare, Of the former kind, besides this song of the King and I like well thy countenance, thou hast an hothe Miller, we have King Henry and the Soldier ; King James I. and the Tinker; K. William III. and nest face;

[lye, the Forester, &c. Of the latter sort are K. Alfred With my son Richard this night thou shalt and the Shepherd; K. Edward IV. and the Tanner; Quoth his wife, By my troth, it is a handsome K. Henry VIII. and the Cobbler, &c.—This is youth, a piece of great antiquity, being written before the Yet its best, husband, to deal warilye. time of Edward IV.; and for its genuine humour, Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell? diverting incidents, and faithful picture of rustic Shew me thy passport, and all shal be well. manners, is infinitely superior to all that have been Then our king presentlye, making lowe coursince written in imitation of it,

tesye Part the First.

With lís hatt in his hand, thus he did say: Henry, our royall king, would ride a hunting I have no passport, nor never was servitor,

To the greene forest so pleasant and faire, But a poor courtyer rode out of my way: To see the harts skipping, and dainty does And for your kindness here offered to mee, tripping:

I will requite you in everye degree. Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repaire ; Hawke and bound were unbound, all things Then to the miller his wife whispered secretlye, prepar'd

Saying, It seemeth this youth's of good kin, For the game, in the same, with good regard. Both by his apparel, and éke by his manners; Alla long summers day rode the king pleasantly, | Yea, quoth hee, you may see, he hath somegrace,

Totúrne him out, certainlye, were a greatsin. With all his princes and nobles eche one; Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gal. When he doth speake io his betters in place. Jantlye,

[home. Well, quo' the miller's wife, young man, ye 're Till the darke evening forced all to turne welcome here; Then, at last, riding fast, he had lost quite And, though I say it, well lodged shall be: All his lords in the wood, late in the night. Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave, Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and

And good brown hempen sheets likewise, downe,

quoth shee. With a rude miller he mett at the last :

Aye, quoth the good man, and when that is Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham : Thou shalt sye with no worse than our own

[sonne. Sir, quoth the miller, I mean not to jest, Yet I think, what I thinke sooth for to say, Nay, first, quoth Richard, goode-fellowe, tell You doe not lightlye ride out of your way.

me true, Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our

Hast thou noe creepers within thy gay hose? king merrily,

Or art thou not troubled with the scabbado? Passing thy judgment on me so briefe ? I pray, quoth the king, what creatures are Good faith, said the miller, I mean not to

those ? Aatter thee;

Art thou not lowsy, nor scabby? quoth he: I guess thee to be but some gentleman thiefe; If thou beest, surely thou lyest not with mee. Stand thee backe, in the darke; light notadowne, This caus’d the king suddenlye to laugh most Lest I presently cracke thy knaves crowne.

heartilye, Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, say.

Till the tears trickled fast downe from his eyes. I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke. [ing thus; Then to their supper were they set orderlye, Thou hast not, quoth the miller, one groat in

With hot bag-puddings, and good apple-pyes, thy purse;

Nappy ale, good and stale, in a brown bowle, All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe. Which did about the board merrily trowle. I have gold to discharge all that I call;

Here, quoth the miller, good fellow, I drink If it be forty pence, I will pay all.

to thee, If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller, And to all cuckolds, wherever they bee: I sweare by my toll-dish I'll lodge thee all I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thánke thee night.

heartilye Here's my hand, quoth the king, that was lever. For my good welcome in every degree : Nay, soft

, quoth the miller, thou mayst be a And here, in like manner, I drink to thy sonne. sprite.

Do then, quoth Richard, and quicke let it come.

'done,

Wife, quoth the miller, ferch me forth Light-, Whenas the noble lords sawe the kinges pleafoote,

santness, And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste. They were right joyfull and glad in their A faire ven'son pastye brought she out pre- hearts :

[business, sentlye.

(waste : A pursuivante there was sent straight on the Eate, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no Thewhich bad oftentimes been in those parts. Here's dainty Lightfoote! In faith, said the When he came to the place where they did dwell, I never before eate so dainty a thing. [king, His message orderlye then gan he tell. I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is, God save your worshippe, then said the mes

For we do eat of it everye day.' [like to this? senger, In what place, sayd our king, may be bought And grant your ladye her owne hearts desire;

We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay: And to your sonne Richard good fortune and From inerry Sherwood we fetch it home here; happiness; Now and then we make bold with our king's That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire! deer.

Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say, Then I thinke, sayd our king, that it is venison. You must coine to the court on St. Georges day. Eche foole, quoth Richard, full well may Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place. know that:

I wis, quoth the miller, this is an odd jest: Never are we without two or three in the roof, What should we doe there? faith, I am halfe Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:

afraid.

[least. But prythee, say nothing wherever thou goe; I doubt, quoth Richard, to be hang'd at the We would not for two pence the king should Nay, quoth the messenger, you doe mistake; it knowe.

Our king he provides a great feast for your sake. Doubt not, then sayd the king, my' promised Then sayd the miller, By my troth, messenger, secresye :

Thou hast contented my worshippe full well. The king shall never know more on't for me. Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy genA cup of lambs-wool they dranke unto him 'tleness And to their beds they past presentlie. [then, For these happy tydings which thou dost tell

. The nobles, next morning, went all up and Let me see, heare thou mee; tell to our king, downe,

We'll wait on his mastershipp in everye thing. For to seeke out the king in every towne.

The pursuivant smiled at their simplicitye, At last, at the millers cott, soone they espy'd And, making many leggs, tooke their reward;

And his leave taking with great humilitye, As he was mounting upon his faire steede ; To the kings court againe he repair'd; To whom they came presently, falling down Shewing unto his grace, merry and free, on their knee;

The knightes most liberall gift and bountie. Which made themillers heart wofully bleede: When he was gone away, thus gan the miller say: Shaking and quaking, before him he stood, Thinking he should have been hang'd by the Now must we needs be brave, iho' we spend

Here come expences and charges indeed ! rood.

all we have; The king perceiving him fearfully trembling, For of new garments we have great need:

Drew forthe his sword, but nothing he sed. Of horses and serving-men we must have store, The miller downe did fall, crying before them with bridles and saddles, and twenty things all,

[head : Doubting the king would have cut off his Tushe! sir John, quoth his wife, why should But he, his kind courtesy for to requite, Gave him great living, and dubb’d him a knight.

you frett or frown? You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee;

For I will turn and trim up my old russet owne, Part the Second.

With every thing else as fine as may bee : Whenas our royall kiog was come home from And on our mill-horses swift we will ride, Nottingham,

With pillowes and pannells as we shall provide. And with his nobles at Westminster lay ; In this most stately sort rode they unto the court, Recounting the sports and pastimes they had Their jolly son Richard rode foremost of all;

In this late progress along on the way; (taken Who set up, for good hap, a cocks feather in Of them all, great and small, he did protest, The miller of Mansfield's sport liked him best. And so they jetted downe to the king's hall; And now, iny lords, quoth the king, I am de- The merry old miller with hands on his side; terinined,

His wifelikemaid Marian did mince at that tide. Against St. George's next sumptuous feast, The king and his nobles, that heard of their That this old miller, our new-confirmed knight, coming,

With his son Richard, shall here be my guest: Meeting this gallant knight with his brate For, in this merriment, 'tis my desire

traine;

(lady; To talke with the jolly knight, and the young Welcome, sir kniglite, quoth lie, with your gay equire.

Good sir John Cockle, once welcome againe :

him out,

more.

his cap.

And soe is the squire, of courage so free. Then sir John Cockle the king called unto him, Quoth Dicke, A bots on you! do you know me? And of merry Sherwood made him o'erseer; Quoth our king gentlye, How should I forget | And gave him out of hand three hundred pound thee?

yearlye; That wast my own bed-fellowe, well it I wot.

Take heed now you steal no more of my deer; Yea, sir, quoth Richard, and by the same token, And once a quarter let's here have your view;

Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot. And now, sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu. Thou whoreson unhappy knave, then quoth

the knight, Speak cleanly to our king, or else go sh*1*.

$ 124. The Witches' Song. The kingand his courtiers laugh at this heartily, From Ben Jonson's Masque of Queens, presented at While the king taketh them both by the hand;

Whitehall, Feb. 2, 1609. With the court dames' and maids, like to the It is true, this song of the Witches, falling from the queen of spades,

learned pen of Ben Jonson, is rather an extract from The miller's wife did so orderly stand,

the various incantations of classic antiquity, than a A milkmaids courtesye at every word ;

display of the opinions of our own vulgar. But let it And downe all the folkes were set to the board. be observed, that a parcel of learned wiseacres had just

before busied themselves on this subject, with our BriThere the king royally, in princelye majestye, tish Solomon, James I., at their head; and these had

Sate at his dinner with joy and delight; so ransacked all writers, ancient and undern, and When they had eaten well, then he tojesting fell,

so blended and kneaded together the several superstiAnd in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight:

tions of different times and nations, that those of Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer;

genuine English growth could no longer be traced out

and distinguished. Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer.

By good luck the whimsical belief of fairies and goblins Quoth sir John Cockle, I'll pledge you a pottle,

could furnish no pretences for torturing our fellowWere it the best ale in Nottinghamshire.

creatures, and therefore we have this handed down to But then, said our king, now I think of a thing,

us pure and unsophisticated. Some of your Lightfoot I would we had here.

1 Witch. Hol ho! quoth Richard, full well I may say it I have beene all day looking after "Tis knavery to eate it, and then to betray it. A raven feeding upon a quarter; Why art thou angry? quoth our king merrilye ; I snatch'd this morsell out of her mouth.

And, soone as she turn'd her back to the south; In faith, I take it now very unkind : I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and

2 Witch wine heartily.

I have beene gathering wolves haires, Quoth Dicke, You are like to stay till I have The mad dogges foame, and adders eares; din'd:

The spurging of a dead man's eyes :
You feed us with twatling dishes so small; And all since the evening starre did rise.
Zounds, a black pudding is better than all.

3 Witch. Aye, marry, quoth our king, that were a daintye I last night lay all alone thing,

O'the ground, to heare the mandrake grone; Could a man get but one here for to eat.

And pluckt him up, though he grew full low: With that Dick straight arose, and pluck'd one And, as I had done, the cocke did crow.

from his hose, Which with heat of his breech gan for to

4 Witch. sweate.

And I h' beene chusing out this scull, The king made a proffer to snatch it away.- From charnel houses that were full, Tis meat for your master, good sir, you must stay. From private grots and publike pits :

And frighted a sexton out of his wits. Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent;

5 Witch. And then the ladyes prepared to dance: Under a cradle I did creepe Old sir John Cockle and Richard incontinent By day, and when the childe was a-sleepe

Unto their places the king did advance : Ai night, I suck'd the breath; and rose, Here with the ladyes such sport they did make, And pluck’d the nodding nurse by the nose. The nobles with laughing did make their sides ake.

6 Witch. Many thanks for their pains did the king give killed an infant to have his fat:

I had a dagger : what did I with that?
then,

A piper it got, at a church-ale :
Asking young Richard then if he would wed: I bade him again blow wind i' the taile.
Among these ladyes free, tell ine which liketh
thee?

7 Witch. Quoth be, Jugg Grumball, sir, with the red A murderer yonder was hung in chaines; head :

The sunne and the wind had shrunke his reines : She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed; I bit off a sinew; I clipp his haire; She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead. I brought off his ragges, that danc'd i' the ayre

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