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But when they came unto the place,
Where marriage-rites were done, She proved herself a dukes daughter,
And he but a squires sonne.
Now marrye me, or not, sir knight,
make me ladye of one good towne, Ile make you lord of three.
Ah ! cursed bee the gold, he sayd,
If thou hadst not been trewe,
And have changed her for a newe.
And now their hearts being linked fast,
They joyned hand in hande :
And all at his commande,
THE SHEPHERD'S ADDRESS TO HIS MUSE.
This Poem, originally printed from the smal! MS volume mentioned above in No. X. has been improved by a more perfect copy in “ England's Helicon," where the author is discovered to be N. BRETON,
Good Muse, rocke me aslepe
With some sweete harmony:
Thy wary company.
Sweete Love, begon a while,
My harte of happines.
See howe my little flocke,
That lovde to feede on highe,
And in the valley dye.
The blacke birde and the thrushe,
That made the woodes to ringe, With all the rest, are now at hushe,
And not a note they singe.
Swete Philomele, the birde
That hath the heavenly throte, Doth nowe, alas! not once afforde
Recordinge of a note.
The flowers have had a frost,
The herbs have loste their savoure; And Phillida the faire hath lost
* For me her wonted' favour.
Thus aļl these careful sights
So kill me in conceit:
It is but meere deceite.
And therefore; my sweete Muse,
That knowest what helpe is best, Doe nowe thy heavenlie conninge use
To sett my harte at rest :
And in a dreame bewraie
What fate shal be my frende ; Whether my life shall still decaye,
Or when my sorrowes ende,
LORD THOMAS AND FAIR ELLINOR,
is given (with corrections) from an ancient copy in black letter, in the Pepys collection, intitled, “A
tragical ballad on the unfortunate love of lord Tho
mas and fair Ellinor, together with the downfall of “ the browne girl.”-In the same collection may be seen an attempt to modernize this old song, and reduce it to a different measure: a proof of its popularity.
Lord Thomas he was a bold forrestèr,
And a chaser of the kings deere ;
And lord Thomas he loved her deare.
Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, he sayu,
And riddle us both as one;
And let the browne girl alone ?
The browne girl she has got houses and lands,
Faire Ellinor she has got none,
To bring me the browne girl home.
And as it befelle on a high holidaye,
there are beside,
That should have been his bride.
And when he came to faire Ellinors bower,
He knocked there at the ring,
To lett lord Thomas withinn.
What newes, what newes, lord Thomas, she sayd ?
What newes dost thou bring to mee?
And that is bad newes for thee.
O God forbid, lord Thomas, she sayd,
That such a thing should be done;
And thou to have been the bridegrome.
Come riddle my riddle, dear mother, she sayd,
30 Whether I shall goe to lord Thomas his wedding,
Or whether shall tarry at home?
There are manye that are your friendes, daughter,
And manye a one your foe,
To lord Thomas his wedding don't goe.
Ver. 23. It should probably be, Reade me, read, &c. i. e. Advise me, advise.