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0, Nanny, canst thou love so true,
Through perils keen wi' me to gae ? Or, when thy swain mishap shall rue,
To share with him the pang of wae ? Say, should disease or pain befall,
Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, Nor, wishful, those gay scenes recall,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? And when at last thy love shall die,
Wilt thou receive his parting breath? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,
And cheer with smiles the bed of death? And wilt thou o'er his much-loved clay
Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ?
Where thou wert fairest of the fair ?
938.—THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY. It was a friar of orders gray
Walk'd forth to tell his beads, And he met with a lady fair,
Clad in a pilgrim's weeds. “Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar !
I pray thee tell to me, If ever at yon holy shrine
My true love thou didst see." “And how should I know your true love
From many another one ?"
And by his sandal shoon :
That were so fair to view,
And eyes of lovely blue.”
Lady, he's dead and gone! At his head a green grass turf,
And at his heels a stone. Within these holy cloisters long
He languish'd, and he died,
And 'plaining of her pride.
Six proper youths and tall;
Within yon kirkyard wall."
And art thou dead and gone ? And didst thou die for love of me?
Break, cruel heart of stone!”
Some ghostly comfort seek :
Nor tears bedew thy cheek.”
“O do not, do not, holy friar,
My sorrow now reprove ;
That e'er won lady's love.
I'll evermore weep and sigh; For thee I only wish'd to live,
For thee I wish to die." “Weep no more, lady, weep no more ;
Thy sorrow is in vain :
Will ne'er make grow again.
Why then should sorrow last ?
Grieve not for what is past."
I pray thee say not so;
"Tis meet my tears should flow. And will he never come again,
Will he ne'er come again ?
For ever to remain.
The comeliest youth was he;
Alas! and woe is me.”
Men were deceivers ever;
To one thing constant never.
And left thee sad and heavy;
Since summer trees were leafy." “Now say not so, thou holy friar,
I pray thee say not so;
O he was ever true!
And didst thou die for me?
A pilgrim I will be.
My weary limbs I'll lay,
That wraps his breathless clay." " Yet stay, fair lady, rest a while
Beneath this cloister wall; The cold wind through the hawthorn blows,
And drizzly rain doth fall."
O stay me not, I pray ;
Can wash my fault away.”
" Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears;
Thy own true love appears.
These holy weeds I sought;
To end my days I thought.
Is not yet pass'd away,
No longer would I stay."
Once more unto my heart; For since I've found thee, lovely youth, We never more will part.” Dr. Thomas Percy.-Born 1728, Died 1811.
One tree bends o'er the naked walls ;
Two broad-wing'd eagles hover nigh ;
As blows the blast along the sky.
With labouring oars along the flood;
Hangs from the boat the insidious wood. Beside the flood, beneath the rocks,
On grassy bank, two lovers lean; Bend on each other amorous looks,
And seem to laugh and kiss between. The wind is rustling in the oak ;
They seem to hear the tread of feet; They start, they rise, look round the rock;
Again they smile, again they meet.
Ascends upon the shady hills;
Rain beats around a hundred rills.
I see it smoking on the plain ;
I'll often seek my cave again.
939.—THE CAVE. The wind is up, the field is bare,
Some hermit lead me to his cell, Where Contemplation, lonely fair,
With bless'd content has chose to dwell. Behold! it opens to my sight,
Dark in the rock, beside the flood; Dry fern around obstructs the light;
The winds above it move the wood. Preflected in the lake, I see
The downward mountains and the skies, The flying bird, the waving tree,
The goats that on the hill arise. The gray-cloak'a herd drives on the cow,
The slow-paced fowler walks the heath; A freckled pointer scours the brow ;
A musing shepherd stands beneath. Curved o'er the ruin of an oak,
The woodman lifts his axe on high; The hills re-echo to the stroke ;
I see, I see the shivers fly! Some rural maid, with apron full,
Brings fuel to the homely flame; I see the smoky columns roll,
And, through the chinky hut, the beam. Beside a stone o'ergrown with mogs,
Two well-met hunters talk at ease; Three panting dogs beside repose ;
One bleeding deer is stretch'd on grass. A lake at distance spreads to sight,
Skirted with shady forests round ; In midst, an island's rocky height
Sastains a ruin, once renown'd.
940.--MORNING. Bright sun had in his ruddy robes been
dight, From the red east he flitted with his
train ; The Houris draw away the gate of Night,
Her sable tapestry was rent in twain : The dancing streaks bedecked heaven's plain, And on the dew did smile with skimmering
eye, Like gouts of blood which do black armour
stain, Shining upon the bourn which standeth by; The soldier stood upon the hillis side, Like young enleaved trees which in a forest bide.
Chatterton.-Born 1752, Died 1770.
941.-SPRING. The budding floweret blushes at the light, The meads be sprinkled with the yellow
hue, In daisied mantles is the mountain dight,
The fresh young cowslip bendeth with the The trees enleafed, into heaven straight,
When gentle winds do blow, to whistling din
is brought. The evening comes, and brings the dews
along, The ruddy welkin shineth to the eyne, Around the ale-stake minstrels sing the song, Young ivy round the door-post doth en.
twine; I lay me on the grass, yet to my will Albeit all is fair, there lacketh something still.
Chatterton.-Born 1752, Died 1770.
Then is your time to strike the blow,
Chatterton.-Born 1752, Died 1770.
942.—THE PROPHECY. This truth of old was sorrow's friend “Times at the worst will surely mend.” The difficulty 's then to know How long Oppression's clock can go; When Britain's sons may cease to sigh, And hope that their redemption 's nigh. When vile Corruption's brazen face At council-board shall take her place; And lords-commissioners resort To welcome her at Britain's court; Look up, ye Britons ! cease to sigh, For your redemption draweth nigh. See Pension's harbour, large and clear, Defended by St. Stephen's pier! The entrance safe, by current led, Tiding round GM's jetty head; Look up, ye Britons ! cease to sigh, For your redemption draweth nigh. When civil power shall snore at ease; While soldiers fire-to keep the peace; When murders sanctuary find, And petticoats can Justice blind; Look up, ye Britons ! cease to sigh, For your redemption draweth nigh. Commerce o'er Bondage will prevail, Free as the wind that fills her sail. When she complains of vile restraint, And Power is deaf to her complaint; Look up, ye Britons ! cease to sigh, For your redemption draweth nigh. When at Bute's feet poor Freedom lies, Mark'd by the priest for sacrifice, And doom'd a victim for the sins Of half the outs and all the ins; Look up, ye Britons ! cease to sigh, For your redemption draweth nigh. When time shall bring your wish about, Or, seven-years' lease, you sold, is out; No future contract to fulfil ; Your tenants holding at your will ; Raise up your heads! your right demandFor your redemption 's in your hand.
943. -BRISTOW TRAGEDY, OR THE
DEATH OF SIR CHARLES
Had wound his bugle-horn,
The coming of the morn:
Of light eclipse the gray,
croaking throat Proclaim the fated day. “ Thou’rt right,” quoth he, “ for by the God
That sits enthroned on high ! Charles Bawdin, and his fellows twain,
To-day shall surely die." Then with a jug of nappy ale
His knights did on him wait ; “Go tell the traitor, that to-day
He leaves this mortal state." Sir Canterlone then bended low,
With heart brimful of woe;
And to Sir Charles did go.
And eke his loving wife,
For good Sir Charles's life.
“ Bad tidings I do bring.” "Speak boldly, man," said brave Sir Charles ;
“What says the traitor king ?" "I grieve to tell : before yon sun
Does from the welkin fly,
That thou shalt surely die.” “We all must die," said brave Sir Charles ;
“Of that I'm not afraid ;
Thank Jesus, I'm prepared.
I'd sooner die to-day,
Though I should live for aye.”
Then Canterlone he did go out,
To tell the mayor straight
For good Sir Charles's fate.
And fell down on his knee;
To move your clemency." « Then," quoth the king, "your tale speak out,
Yon have been much our friend; Whatever your request may be,
We will to it attend."
Is for a noble knight,
He thought it still was right.
All ruin'd are for aye,
Charles Bawdin die to-day.”
The king in fury said ; “Before the evening star doth shine,
Bawdin shall lose his head :
And he shall have his meed :
At present do you need ?"
"Leave justice to our God,
Be thine the olive rod.
The best were sinners great ;
In all this mortal state.
'Twill fix thy crown full sure ;
All sovereigns shall endure :
Begin thy infant reign,
Will never long remain."
Has scorn'd my power and me ;
Entreat my clemency ?”
Will valorous actions prize;
Although in enemies."
That did me being give,
Whilst this Sir Charles doth live!
By Mary, and all saints in heaven,
This sun shall be his last !"
And from the presence pass'd.
He to Sir Charles did go,
And tears began to flow. “We all must die,” said brave Sir Charles;
" What boots it how or when ? Death is the sure, the certain fate,
Of all we mortal men.
Runs over at thine eye;
That thou dost child-like cry?”
That thou so soon must die,
'Tis this that wets mine eye."
From godly fountains spring; Death I despise, and all the power
Of Edward, traitor-king.
I shall resign my life,
For both my sons and wife.
This was appointed me;
What God ordains to be ?
When thousands died around;
Imbrued the fatten'd ground.
That cut the airy way,
And close mine eyes for aye ?
Look wan and be dismay'd ?
Be all the man display'd.
And guard thee and thy son,
Why, then his will be done.
To serve God and my prince;
My death will soon convince. In London city was I born,
Of parents of great note ; My father did a noble arms
Emblazon on his coat:
I make no doubt but he is gone
Where soon I hope to go,
From out the reach of woe.
With pity to unite;
The wrong cause from the right:
To feed the hungry poor,
The hungry from my door:
I have his wordis kept ;
Each night before I slept.
If I defiled her bed ?
Black treason on my head.
From flesh I did refrain ;
To leave this world of pain ?
I shall not see thy death;
Do I resign my breath.
Thou wilt ken peace no moe ;
Thy brooks with blood will flow.
And godly Henry's reign,
For those of blood and pain ?
And mangled by a hind,
He cannot harm my mind ;
My limbs shall rot in air,
Charles Bawdin's name shall bear;
Which time can't eat away,
My name shall live for aye.
I leave this mortal life :
My sons and loving wife!
As e'er the month of May;
With my dear wife to stay."
Saith Canynge, "'Tis a goodly thing
To be prepared to die;
To God in heaven to fly.”
And clarions to sound;
A-prancing on the ground.
His loving wife came in, Weeping unfeigned tears of woe
With loud and dismal din.
In quiet let me die ;
May look on death as I.
They wash my soul away,
With thee, sweet dame, to stay. 'Tis but a journey I shall go
Unto the land of bliss;
Receive this holy kiss."
Trembling these wordis spoke :
My heart is well nigh broke.
Without thy loving wife?
It eke shall end my life.”
To bring Sir Charles away, Who turned to his loving wife,
And thus to her did say:
Trust thou in God above,
And in their hearts him love.
That I their father run,
Ye officers lead on."
And did her tresses tear; “Oh stay, my husband, lord, and life!"
Sir Charles then dropp'd a tear.
She fell upon the floor;
And march'd from out the door.
With looks full brave and sweet; Looks that enshone no more concern
Than any in the street.