He drew his dagger, that was fae sharp, That fell deid at his feit. Now stay for me, dear Annet, he fed, Then ftrake the dagger untill his heart, And fell deid by her fide. Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa', Fair Annet within the quiere; And o' the tane thair grew a birk, The other a bonny briere. And ay they grew, and ay they threw, As they wad faine br neare; And by this ye may ken right weil, 105 110 115 120 V. UNFADING BEAUTY. This little beautiful fonnet is reprinted from a small volume of "Poems by IHOMAS CAREW, Efq. one of the gen "tlemen of the privie chamber, and fewer in ordinary to his "majefty (Charles 1.) Lond. 1640." This elegant, and almoft-forgotten writer, whofe poems have been defervedly revived, died in the prime of his age, in 1629. In the original follows a third ftanza; which, not being of general application, nor of equal merit, I have ventured to omit. EE, that loves a rofie cheeke, HEE Or a corall lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth feeke 5 So his flames must waste away. But a fmooth and stedfaft mind, Kindle never-dying fires: Where these are not I despise Lovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes. 10 R 4 VI. GEORGE t GEORGE VI. BARNWELL. The Subject of this ballad is fufficiently popular from the modern play which is founded upon it. This was written by GEORGE LILLO, a jeweller of London, and firft acted about 1730. As for the ballad it was printed at least as early as the middle of the last century. It is here given from three old printed copies, which exhibit a ftrange intermixture of Roman and black letter. It is alfo collated with another copy in the Ashmole collection at Oxford, which is thus intitled, "An excellent ballad of "GEORGE BARNWELL, an apprentice of London, who "... thrice robbed his mafter and murdered his uncle in "Ludlow." The tune is " The Merchant." This tragical narrative feems to relate a real fact; but when it happened I have not been able to discover. A THE FIRST PART. LL youths of fair Englànd Regard my ftory that I tell, And to my fong give ear. A London lad I was, A merchant's prentice bound; My name George Barnwell; that did spend My mafter many a pound. Take heed of harlots then, And their enticing trains; For by that means I have been brought To hang alive in chains. As I, upon a day, Was walking through the street About my master's business, A wanton I did meet. A gallant dainty dame, And sumptuous in attire; With finiling look she greeted me, Which when I had declar'd, She gave me then a kiss, And faid, if I would come to her, I should have more than this. Fair mistress, then quoth I, If I the place may know, This evening I will be with you, For I abroad must go To gather monies in, IO 15 20 25 That are my master's due: 30 And ere that I do home return, I'll come and vifit you. Good Good Barnwell, then quoth fhe, Do thou to Shoreditch come, And ask for Mrs. Millwood's house, 35 Next door unto the Gun. And truft me on my truth, If thou keep touch with me, My dearest friend, as my own heart Thus parted we in peace, And home I paffed right; Then went abroad, and gathered in, An hundred pound and one: I went to Mrs. Millwood's house, And knocking at the door, Straightway herself came down; Ruftling in moft brave attire, 40 45 50 Who, through her beauty bright, So gloriously did shine, That the amaz'd my dazzling eyes, 55 She |