O Christ thee save, lord Thomas, hee sayd, Oh, art thou blind, lord Thomas? she sayd, 65 Oh! dost thou not see my owne hearts bloode Lord Thomas he had a sword by his side; As he walked about the halle, He cut off his brides head from her shoulders, And threw it against the walle. He set the hilte against the grounde, 70 There never three lovers together did meete, 75 That sooner againe did parte. The reader will find a Scottish song on a similar subject to this, towards the end of this volume, entitled, Lord Thomas and Lady Annet. XVI. Cupid and Campaspe. THIS elegant little sonnet is found in the third act of an old play, entitled, Alexander and Campaspe, written by John Lilye, a celebrated writer in the time of Queen Elizabeth. That play was first printed in 1591; but this copy is given from a later edition. CUPID and my Campaspe playd His mothers doves, and teame of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lippe, the rose Growing on's cheek, (but none knows how,) With these, the crystal of his browe, O Love! has she done this to thee? XVII. The Lady turned Serving-Man, Is given from a written copy, containing some improvements (perhaps modern ones) upon the popular ballad, entitled, "The famous flower of Serving-men; or, the Lady turned Serving-man." You beauteous ladyes, great and small, I was by birth a lady faire, And when my good old father dyed, And there my love built me a bower, And there I livde a ladye gay, They came upon us in the night, And brent my bower, and slew my knight; I scant with life escap'd away. In the midst of this extremitìe, With heart more cold than any stone. Yet though my heart was full of care, And therewithall I cut my haire, 30 I travell'd far through many a land. At length all wearied with my toil, My heart it was so fill'd with woe, 35 That downe my cheeke the teares did flow. It chanc'd the king of that same place 40 Then to his grace I did replye, I am a poore and friendlesse boye, Stand up, faire youth, the king reply'd, Wilt thou be usher of my hall, To wait upon my nobles all? Or wilt be taster of my wine, To 'tend on me when I shall dine? Or wilt thou be my chamberlaine, About my person to remaine? Or wilt thou be one of my guard, And I will give thee great reward? Chuse, gentle youth, said he, thy place. 45 50 55 To shew such favour unto mee, Your chamberlaine I faine would bee. 60 The king then smiling gave consent, |