Cicely, the western lass, that tends the kee, 30 Ah, Colin! canst thou leave thy sweetheart What I have done for thee, will Cicely do? And knit thee gloves made of her own spun yarn? "Where'er I gad, I cannot hide my care, And wist not that with thoughtful love I pine. 40 "Have I not sat with thee full many a night, When dying embers were our only light, When every creature did in slumbers lie, Besides our cat, my Colin Clout, and I? No troublous thoughts the cat or Colin move, While I alone am kept awake by love. "Remember, Colin! when at last year's wake I bought the costly present for thy sake; Couldst thou spell o'er the posy on thy knife, And with another change thy state of life? If thou forgett'st, I wot, I can repeat, My memory can tell the verse so sweet: As this is grav'd upon this knife of thine, So is thy image on this heart of mine.' But woe is me! such presents luckless prove, For knives, they tell me, always sever love.” 90 100 Thus Marian wail'd, her eyes with tears brimful When Goody Dobbins brought her cow to bull. With apron blue to dry her tears she sought, Then saw the cow wellserv'd, and took a groat. WEDNESDAY; OR, THE DUMPS.* SPARABELLA. THE wailings of a maiden I recite, "Whilom with thee 'twas Marian's dear delight | A maiden fair, that Sparabella hight. To moil all day, and merry-make at night. If in the soil you guide the crooked share, Your early breakfast is my constant care; 50 Such strains ne'er warble in the linnet's throat, 60 And when with even hand you strow the grain, 64 Last Friday's eve, when as the Sun was set, I, near yon stile, three sallow gypsies met. Upon my hand they cast a poring look, 70 80 Bid me beware, and thrice their heads they shook: Ver. 21. Kee, a west-country word for kine, or cows. *Dumps, or dumbs, made use of to express a fit of the sullens. Some have pretended that it is derived from Dumops, a king of Egypt, that built a pyramid, and died of melancholy. So mopes, after the same manner, is thought to have come from Merops, another Egyptian king, that died of the same distemper. But our English antiquaries have conjectured that dumps, which is a grievous heaviness of spirits, comes from the word dump ling, the heaviest kind of pudding that is eaten in thi country, much used in Norfolk, and other counties o England. 30 Come Night, as dark as pitch, surround my head, From Sparabella Bumkinet is fled; The ribbon that his valorous cudgel won, Last Sunday happier Clumsilis put on. Sure if he'd eyes (but Love, they say, has none) I whilom by that ribbon had been known. Ah, well-a-day! I'm shent with baneful smart, For with the ribbon he bestow'd his heart. "My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, "Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.' To sum up all, her tongue confess'd the shrew. "My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, "Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.' "I've often seen my visage in yon lake, "Sooner shall cats disport in waters clear, And speckled mack'rel graze the meadows fair; Sooner shall screech-owls bask in sunny day, And the slow ass on trees, like squirrels, play; 70 Sooner shall snails on insect pinions rove; Than I forget my shepherd's wonted love. My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, "Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.' "Ah! didst thou know what proffers I withstood When late I met the squire in yonder wood! To me he sped, regardless of his game, While all my cheek was glowing red with shame ; My lip he kiss'd, and prais'd my healthful look, Them from his purse of silk a guinea took, Into my hand he forc'd the tempting gold, While I with modest struggling broke his hold. He swore that Dick, in livery strip'd with lace, Should wed me soon, to keep me from disgrace; But I nor footman priz'd, nor golden fee; For what is lace or gold, compar'd to thee? My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, "Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.' 80 Now plain I ken whence Love his rise begun Sure he was born some bloody butcher's son, 90 Bred up in shambles, where our younglings slain Erst taught him mischief, and to sport with pain. The father only silly sheep annoys, The son the sillier shepherdess destroys. Does son or father greater mischief do? The sire is cruel, so the son is too. My plaint, ye lasses, with this burthen aid, "Tis hard so true a damsel dies a maid.' "Farewell, ye woods, ye meads, ye streams tha flow; 50 A sudden death shall rid me of my woe. Nor are my features of the homeliest make: 61 Ver. 33. Shent, an old word, signifying hurt, or harmed. Ver. 37. 100 This penknife keen my windpipe shal! divide. Ver. 89. To ken. Scire. Chaucer, to ken, and kende; notus A. S. cunnam. Goth. kunnam. Germanis kennen. Danis kiende. Islandis kunna. Belgis kennen. This word is of general use, but not very common, though not unknown to the vulgar. Ken, for prospicere, is well known, and used to discover by the eye. Ray, F. R. S. Nunc scio quid sit amor, &c. Crudelis mater magis an puer improbus ille? Virg -vivite sylvæ: Jungentur jam gryphes equis; ævoque sequenti Cum caníbus timidi venient ad pocula damæ. Virg. The Sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woful dirges sings; The prudent maiden deems it now too late, And, till to-morrow comes, defers her fate. THURSDAY; OR, THE SPELL. HOBNELIA. HOBNELIA, seated in a dreary vale, In pensive mood rehears'd her piteous tale; Her piteous tale the winds in sighs bemoan, And pining echo answers groan for groan. 120 'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' 50 With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' "Two hazel-nuts I threw into the flame, And to each nut I gave a sweetheart's name; This with the loudest bounce me sore amaz'd, That in a flame of brightest color blaz'd. 10 As blaz'd the nut, so may thy passion grow; For 'twas thy nut that did so brightly glow. "I rue the day, a rueful day, I trow, The woful day, a day indeed of woe! When Lubberkin to town his cattle drove, A maiden fine bedight he hapt to love; The maiden fine bedight his love retains, And for the village he forsakes the plains. Return, my Lubberkin, these ditties hear; Spells will I try, and spells shall ease my care. 'With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' "When first the year I heard the cuckoo sing, And call with welcome note the budding spring, I straightway set a running with such haste, Deborah that won the smock scarce ran so fast; Till spent for lack of breath, quite weary grown, Upon a rising bank I sat adown, Then doff'd my shoe, and, by my troth, I swear, As if upon his comely pate it grew. 20 With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' 30 "At eve last Midsummer no sleep I sought, But to the field a bag of hemp-seed brought; I scatter'd round the seed on every side, And three times in a trembling accent cried, "This hemp-seed with my virgin hand I sow, Who shall my true-love be, the crop shall mow.' I straight look'd back, and, if my eyes speak truth, With his keen scythe behind me came the youth. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' And turn me thrice around, around, around.' "I pare this pippin round and round again, My shepherd's name to flourish on the plain, I fling th' unbroken paring o'er my head, Upon the grass a perfect L is read; Yet on my heart a fairer L is seen 40 Than what the paring makes upon the green. "Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind Their paramours with mutual chirpings find; I early rose, just at the break of day, Before the Sun had chas'd the stars away; A-field I went, amid the morning dew, To milk my kine (for so should huswives do); Thee first I spied; and the first swain we see, In spite of Fortune, shall our true-love be. See, Lubberkin, each bird his partner take; And canst thou then thy sweetheart dear forsake? Vei. 8. Dight, or bedight, from the Saxon word dightan, which signifies to set in order. 90 Ver. 21. Dof and don, contracted from the words do off and do on Ver. 93. Transque caput jace; ne respexeris. Virg. 110 As Lubberkin once slept beneath a tree, I twitch'd his dangling garter from his knee. He wist not when the hempen string I drew, Now mine I quickly doff, of inkle blue. Together fast I tie the garters twain; And while I knit the knot repeat this strain: Three times a true-love's knot I tie secure, Firm be the knot, firm may his love endure !' With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' 120 As I was wont, I trudg'd last market-day To town, with new-laid eggs preserv'd in hay, I made my market long before 'twas night, My purse grew heavy, and my basket light. Straight to the 'pothecary's shop I went, And in love-powder all my money spent. Behap what will, next Sunday, after prayers, When to the alehouse Lubberkin repairs, These golden flies into his mug I'll throw, And soon the swain with fervent love shall glow. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground, And turn me thrice around, around, around.' 130 But hold!-our Lightfoot barks, and cocks his ears, Yet ev'n this season pleasance blithe affords, Let cider new "wash sorrow from thy soul.' 10 GRUBBINOL. Ah, Bumkinet! since thou from hence wert gone, From these sad plains all merriment is flown; Should I reveal my grief, 'twould spoil thy cheer, And make thine eye o'erflow with many a tear. BUMKINET. "Hang sorrow!" Let's to yonder hut repair, And with trim sonnets "cast away our care." "Gillian of Croydon" well thy pipe can play : Thou sing'st most sweet, "O'er hills and far away." Of "Patient Grissel" I devise to sing, And catches quaint shall make the valleys ring. 20 GRUBBINOL. Yes, blithesome lad, a tale I mean to sing, But with my woe shall distant valleys ring. The tale shall make our kidlings droop their head, For, wo is me!-our Blouzelind is dead! BUMKINET. Is Blouzelinda dead? farewell, my glee! No happiness is now reserv'd for me. As the wood-pigeon cooes without his mate, So shall my doleful dirge bewail her fate. Of Blouzelinda fair I mean to tell, The peerless maid that did all maids excel. 30 Henceforth the morn shall dewy sorrow shed, And evening tears upon the grass be spread; The rolling streams with watery grief shall flow, And winds shall moan aloud—when loud they blow. Henceforth, as oft as Autumn shall return, The drooping trees, whene'er it rains, shall mourn; The season quite shall strip the country's pride, For 'twas in Autumn Blouzelinda died. 40 Where'er I gad, I Blouzelind shall view, Woods, dairy, barn, and mows, our passion knew, When I direct my eyes to yonder wood, Fresh rising sorrow curdles in my blood. Thither I've often been the damsel's guide, When rotten sticks our fuel have supplied; There I remember how her fagots large Were frequently these happy shoulders' charge. Sometimes this crook drew hazel-boughs adown, And stuff'd her apron wide with nuts so brown; 50 Or when her feeding hogs had miss'd their way, Or wallowing 'mid a feast of acorns lay; dirige in the popish hymn, dirige gressus meus, as some Ver. 15. Virg. Ver. 27. Glee, joy; from the Dutch glooren, to recreate Th' untoward creatures to the sty I drove, 60 When in the barn the sounding flail I ply, Where from her sieve the chaff was wont to fly; 70 The poultry there will seem around to stand, Waiting upon her charitable hand. No succor meet the poultry now can find, GRUBBINOL. Albeit thy songs are sweeter to mine ear, Than to the thirsty cattle rivers clear; Or winter porridge to the laboring youth, Or buns and sugar to the damsel's tooth; Yet Blouzelinda's name shall tune my lay, Of her I'll sing for ever and for aye. 90 The boding raven on her cottage sate, And of the dead let none the will revoke: Mother," quoth she, "let not the poultry need, And give the goose wherewith to raise her breed: Be these my sister's care-and every morn Amid the ducklings let her scatter corn; The sickly calf that's hous'd be sure to tend, Feed him with milk, and from bleak colds defend. Yet ere I die-see, mother, yonder shelf, There secretly I've hid my worldly pelf. Twenty good shillings in a rag I laid; Be ten the parson's, for my sermon paid. The rest is yours-my spinning-wheel and rake Let Susan keep for her dear sister's sake; 120 My new straw hat, that's trimly lin'd with green, 130 To show their love, the neighbors far and near Follow'd with wistful look the damsel's bier. Sprig'd rosemary the lads and lasses bore, While dismally the parson walk'd before. Upon her grave the rosemary they threw, The daisy, butter-flower, and endive blue. After the good man warn'd us from his text, 139 That none could tell whose turn would be the next; He said, that Heaven would take her soul, no doubt, And spoke the hour-glass in her praise-quite out While bulls bear horns upon their curled brow, 160 Ver. 153. Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit, Dumque thymo pascentur apes, dum rore cicada, Semper honos, nomenque tuum, laudesque manebunt. Vir |