SHE. "Yes, I may tell and fret my sell In armes into a well-made bed; 35 But now I sigh and may be sad, Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan, Thou falds thy fect and fa's asleep; Thou'lt nevir be like mine auld goodman." 40 Then coming was the night sae dark, And gane was a' the light of day; I trowe, the wife the day she wan; Was, "Evir alake! mine auld goodman!" 45 IV. Fair Margaret and Sweet William. This seems to be the old song quoted in Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, acts ii. and iii.; although the six lines there preserved are somewhat different from those in the ballad, as it stands at present. The reader will not wonder at this, when he is informed that this is only given from a modern printed copy picked up on a stall. Its full title is, "Fair Margaret's Misfortune; or, Sweet William's frightful dreams on his wedding-night, with the sudden death and burial of those noble lovers." The lines preserved in the play are this distich, "You are no love for me, Margaret, I am no love for you." And the following stanza, "When it was grown to dark midnight, In came Margarets grimly ghost These lines have acquired an importance by giving birth to one of the most beautiful ballads in our own or any language. See the song entitled Margaret's Ghost, at the end of this volume. Since the first edition some improvements have been inserted, which were communicated by a lady of the first distinction, as she had heard this song repeated in her infancy. As it fell out on a long summer's day, Two lovers they sat on a hill; They sat together that long summer's day, "I see no harm by you, Margarèt, Before to-morrow at eight o' the clock A rich wedding you shall see." 5 When day was gone, and night was come, And all men fast asleep, Then came the spirit of Fair Margret, And stood at Williams feet. 20 "Are you awake, sweet William ?" shee said, God give you joy of your gay bride-bed, And me of my winding sheet." When day was come, and night was gone, 25 And all men wak'd from sleep, Sweet William to his lady sayd, 66 'My dear, I have cause to weep. "I dreamt a dream, my dear ladyè, Such dreames are never good: I dreamt my bower was full of red wine,' Ver. 31, 35, swine. P.CC. 30 "Such dreams, such dreams, my honoured sir, They never do prove good; To dream thy bower was full of red wine,' He called up his merry men all, By one, by two, and by three; 35 Saying, "I'll away to fair Margret's bower, By the leave of my ladiè." 40 Making most piteous mone, "You may go kiss your jolly brown bride, And let our sister alone." 55 "If I do kiss my jolly brown bride, I do but what is right; I neer made a vow to yonder poor corpse, 60 "Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, Deal on your cake and your wine: 1 For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day, Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine." Margaret was buryed in the lower chancèl, Out of her brest there sprang a rose, And out of his a briar. They grew till they grew unto the church top, 70 And there they tyed in a true lovers knot, 75 Given, with some corrections, from an old black-letter copy entitled, "Barbara Allen's cruelty, or the young man's tragedy." IN Scarlet towne, where I was borne, All in the merrye month of May, When greene buds they were swellin, 5 Yong Jemmye Grove on his death-bed lay, 66 Though death be printed on his face, For bonny Barbara Allen." So slowly, slowly, she came up, And slowly she came nye him; And all she sayd, when there she came, "Yong man, I think y'are dying." He turnd his face unto her strait, 66 With deadlye sorrow sighing; "O lovely maid, come pity mee, Ime on my death-bed lying." "If on your death-bed you doe lye, He turnd his face unto the wall, As deadlye pangs he fell in: As she was walking ore the fields, 66 She turned her bodye round about, 66 And spied the corps a coming: 'Laye down, laye down the corps," she sayd, With scornful eye she looked downe, When he was dead, and laid in grave, "O mother, mother, make my bed, For I shall dye to-morrowe. 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 |