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VIII.

THE SPANISH VIRGIN, OR EFFECTS OF
JEALOUSY.

The subject of this ballad is taken from a folio collection of tragical stories, intitled, "The theatre of God's judgments, by Dr. Beard and Dr. Taylor, 1642." Pt. 2. p. 89.-The text is given (with corrections) from two copies; one of them in black-letter in the Pepys collection. In this every stanza is accompanied with the following distich by way of burden:

"Oh jealousie! thou art nurst in hell :
"Depart from hence, and therein dwell."

ALL tender hearts, that ake to hear

Of those that suffer wrong;

All you, that never shed a tear,

Give heed unto my song.

Fair Isabella's tragedy

My tale doth far exceed :

Alas, that so much cruelty

In female hearts should breed!

In Spain a lady liv'd of late,

Who was of high degree;
Whose wayward temper did create
Much woe and misery.

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Strange

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Her lord, of humour light and gay,
And innocent the while,

As oft as she came in his way,

Would on the damsell smile.

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And

And oft before his lady's face,

As thinking her her friend,

He would the maiden's modest grace

And comeliness commend.

All which incens'd his lady so,

She burnt with wrath extreame;

At length the fire that long did glow,
Burst forth into a flame.

For on a day it so befell,

When he was gone from home,

The lady all with rage did swell,

And to the damsell come.

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Where they were wont, in days of yore,

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Offenders great to keep.

There never light of chearful day

Dispers'd the hideous gloom;

But dank and noisome vapours play

Around the wretched room:

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And

And adders, snakes, and toads therein,

As afterwards was known,

Long in this loathsome vault had bin,

And were to monsters grown.

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The toads to croak, and snakes to hiss:

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The virgin now had ceas'd to mourn;
Which fill'd him with surprize.

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In grief, and horror, and affright,
He listens at the walls;

But finding all was silent quite,

He to his lady calls.

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Too sure, O lady, now quoth he,

Your cruelty hath sped;

Make hast, for shame, and come and see;

I fear the virgin's dead.

She starts to hear her sudden fate,
And does with torches run:

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But all her haste was now too late,

For death his worst had done.

The

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