Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs Part 1

Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs.

by Robert Bloomfield.

PREFACE.

The Poems here offered to the Public were chiefly written during the interval between the concluding and the publis.h.i.+ng of THE FARMER'S BOY, an interval of nearly two years. The pieces of a later date are, _the Widow to her Hour-Gla.s.s, the Fakenham Ghost, Walter and Jane_, &c. At the tune of publis.h.i.+ng the Farmer's Boy, circ.u.mstances occurred which rendered it necessary to submit these Poems to the perusal of my Friends: under whose approbation I now give them, with some confidence as to their moral merit, to the judgment of the Public. And as they treat of village manners, and rural scenes, it appears to me not ill-tim'd to avow, that I have hopes of meeting in some degree the approbation of my Country. I was not prepar'd for the decided, and I may surely say extraordinary attention which the Public has shewn towards the Farmer's Boy: the consequence has been such as my true friends will rejoice to hear; it has produc'd me many essential blessings. And I feel peculiarly gratified in finding that a poor man in England may a.s.sert the dignity of Virtue, and speak of the imperishable beauties of Nature, and be heard, and heard, perhaps, with greater attention for his being poor.

Whoever thinks of me or my concerns, must necessarily indulge the pleasing idea of grat.i.tude, and join a thought of my first great friend Mr. LOFFT.

And on this head, I believe every reader, who has himself any feeling, will judge rightly of mine: if otherwise, I would much rather he would lay down this volume, and grasp hold of such fleeting pleasures as the world's business may afford him. I speak not of that gentleman as a public character, or as a scholar. Of the former I know but little, and of the latter nothing. But I know from experience, and I glory in this fair opportunity of saying it, that his private life is a lesson of morality; his manners gentle, his heart sincere: and I regard it as one of the most fortunate circ.u.mstances of my life, that my introduction to public notice fell to so zealous and unwearied a friend.[Footnote: I dare not take to myself a praise like this; and yet I was, perhaps, hardly at liberty to disclaim what should be mine and the endeavour of every one to deserve.

This I can say, that I have reason to rejoice that Mr. _George Bloomfield_ introduced the Farmer's Boy to me. C. L.]

I have received many honourable testimonies of esteem from strangers; letters without a name, but fill'd with the most cordial advice, and almost a parental anxiety, for my safety under so great a share of public applause. I beg to refer such friends to the great teacher Time: and hope that he will hereafter give me my deserts, and no more.

One piece in this collection will inform the reader of my most pleasing visit to _Wakefield Lodge_: books, solitude, and objects entirely new, brought pleasures which memory will always cherish. That n.o.ble and worthy Family, and all my immediate and unknown Friends, will, I hope, believe the sincerity of my thanks for all their numerous favours, and candidly judge the Poems before them.

R. BLOOMFIELD.

Sept. 29, 1801.

P.S. Since affixing the above date, an event of much greater importance than any to which I have been witness, has taken place, to the universal joy (it is to be hoped) of every inhabitant of Europe. My portion of joy shall be expressed while it is warm: and the reader will do sufficient justice, if he only believes it to be sincere.

October 10.

PEACE.

Halt! ye Legions, sheathe your Steel: Blood grows precious; shed no more: Cease your toils; your wounds to heal Lo! beams of Mercy reach the sh.o.r.e!

From Realms of everlasting light The favour'd guest of Heaven is come: Prostrate your Banners at the sight, And bear the glorious tidings home.

The plunging corpse with half-clos'd eyes, No more shall stain th' unconscious brine; Yon pendant gay, that streaming flies, Around its idle Staff shall twine.

Behold! along th' etherial sky Her beams o'er conquering Navies spread; Peace! Peace! the leaping Sailors cry, With shouts that might arouse the dead.

Then forth Britannia's thunder pours; A vast reiterated sound!

From Line to Line the Cannon roars, And spreads the blazing joy around.

Return, ye brave! your Country calls; Return; return, your task is done: While here the tear of transport falls, To grace your Laurels n.o.bly won.

Albion Cliffs--from age to age, That bear the roaring storms of Heav'n, Did ever fiercer Warfare rage?

Was ever Peace more timely given?

Wake! sounds of Joy: rouse, generous Isle; Let every patriot bosom glow.

Beauty, resume thy wonted smile, And, Poverty, thy cheerful brow.

Boast, Britain, of thy glorious Guests; Peace, Wealth, and Commerce, all thine own: Still on contented Labour rests The basis of a lasting Throne.

Shout, Poverty! 'tis Heaven that saves; Protected Wealth, the chorus raise: Ruler of War, of Winds, and Waves, Accept a prostrate Nation's praise.

ERRATA.

Page 28, line 1, for _Mon_ read _Man_.

56, 13, for _thy_ read _my_.

CONTENTS.

Richard and Kate: Ballad Walter and Jane: a Tale The Miller's Maid: a Tale The Widow to her Hour-Gla.s.s Market-Night: Ballad The Fakenham Ghost: Ballad The French Mariner: Ballad Dolly: Ballad A Visit to Whittlebury Forest A Highland Drover: Song A Word to Two Young Ladies On hearing of the Translation of the Farmer's Boy Nancy: Song Rosy Hannah: Song The Shepherd and his Dog Rover: Song Hunting Song Lucy: Song Winter Song

[Ill.u.s.tration]

RICHARD AND KATE: OR, FAIR-DAY.

A Suffolk Ballad.

'Come, Goody, stop your humdrum wheel, Sweep up your orts, and get your Hat; Old joys reviv'd once more I feel, 'Tis Fair-day;--ay, _and more than that._

_The Deliberation_.

'Have you forgot, Kate, prithee say, 'How many Seasons here we've tarry'd?

'Tis _Forty_ years, this very day, 'Since you and I, old Girl, were _married_

'Look out;--the Sun s.h.i.+nes warm and bright, 'The Stiles are low, the paths all dry; 'I know you cut your corns last night: 'Come; be as free from care as I.

'For I'm resolv'd once more to see 'That place where we so often met; 'Though few have had more cares than we, 'We've none just now to make us fret.'

Kate scorn'd to damp the generous flame That warm'd her aged Partner's breast; Yet, ere determination came, She thus some trifling doubts express'd.

_Difficulties--Consent_.

'Night will come on; when seated snug, 'And you've perhaps begun some tale, 'Can you then leave your dear stone mug; 'Leave all the folks, and all the Ale?'

'Ay, Kate, I wool;--because I know, 'Though time has been we both could run, 'Such days are gone and over now;-- 'I only mean to see the fun.'

She straight slipp'd off the Wall and Band, [Terms used in spinning]

And laid aside her Lucks and Twitches: And to the Hutch [a chest] she reach'd her hand, And gave him out his Sunday Breeches.

His Mattock he behind the door And Hedging-gloves again replac'd; And look'd across the yellow Moor, And urg'd his tott'ring Spouse to haste.

_The Walk to the Fair._

The day was up, the air serene, The Firmament without a cloud; The Bee humm'd o'er the level green Where knots of trembling Cowslips bow'd.

And RICHARD thus, with heart elate, As past things rush'd across his mind, Over his shoulder, talk'd to KATE, Who snug tuckt up, walk'd slow behind.