A Bundle of Ballads Part 21

The one a fine and pretty boy, Not pa.s.sing three years old; The other a girl more young than he, And framed in beauty's mould.

The father left his little son, As plainly doth appear, When he to perfect age should come, Three hundred pounds a year.

And to his little daughter Jane Five hundred pounds in gold, To be paid down on marriage-day, Which might not be controlled: But if the children chance to die, Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possess their wealth; For so the will did run.

"Now, brother," said the dying man, "Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl, No friends else have they here: To G.o.d and you I recommend My children dear this day; But little while be sure we have Within this world to stay.

"You must be father and mother both, And uncle all in one; G.o.d knows what will become of them, When I am dead and gone."

With that bespake their mother dear, "O brother kind," quoth she, "You are the man must bring our babes To wealth or misery:

"And if you keep them carefully, Then G.o.d will you reward; But if you otherwise should deal, G.o.d will your deeds regard."

With lips as cold as any stone, They kissed their children small: "G.o.d bless you both, my children dear!"

With that the tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spake To this sick couple there,-- "The keeping of your little ones, Sweet sister, do not fear: G.o.d never prosper me nor mine, Nor aught else that I have, If I do wrong your children dear, When you are laid in grave!"

The parents being dead and gone, The children home he takes, And brings them straight unto his house, Where much of them he makes.

He had not kept these pretty babes A twelvemonth and a day, But, for their wealth, he did devise To make them both away.

He bargained with two ruffians strong, Which were of furious mood, That they should take these children young, And slay them in a wood.

He told his wife an artful tale, He would the children send To be brought up in fair Lond-on, With one that was his friend.

Away then went those pretty babes, Rejoicing at that tide, Rejoicing with a merry mind, They should on c.o.c.k-horse ride.

They prate and prattle pleasantly, As they rode on the way, To those that should their butchers be, And work their lives' decay:

So that the pretty speech they had, Made Murder's heart relent; And they that undertook the deed, Full sore did now repent.

Yet one of them more hard of heart, Did vow to do his charge, Because the wretch that hir-ed him Had paid him very large.

The other won't agree thereto, So here they fall to strife; With one another they did fight, About the children's life: And he that was of mildest mood, Did slay the other there, Within an unfrequented wood; The babes did quake for fear!

He took the children by the hand, Tears standing in their eye, And bade them straightway follow him, And look they did not cry: And two long miles he led them on, While they for food complain: "Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread, When I come back again."

These pretty babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and down; But never more could see the man Approaching from the town: Their pretty lips with black-berries, Were all besmeared and dyed; And when they saw the darksome night, They sat them down and cried.

Thus wandered these poor innocents, Till death did end their grief; In one another's arms they died, As wanting due relief: No burial this pretty pair Of any man receives, Till Robin-red-breast piously Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of G.o.d Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, His conscience felt an h.e.l.l: His barns were fired, his goods consumed, His lands were barren made, His cattle died within the field, And nothing with him staid.

And in a voyage to Portugal Two of his sons did die; And to conclude, himself was brought To want and miser-y: He p.a.w.ned and mortgaged all his land Ere seven years came about; And now at length this wicked act Did by this means come out:

The fellow that did take in hand These children for to kill, Was for a robbery judged to die; Such was G.o.d's blessed will; Who did confess the very truth, As here hath been displayed: Their uncle having died in gaol, Where he for debt was laid.

You that executors be made, And overse-ers eke Of children that be fatherless And infants mild and meek; Take you example by this thing, And yield to each his right, Lest G.o.d with such like misery Your wicked minds requite.

THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BETHNAL GREEN.

PART THE FIRST.

It was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight, He had a fair daughter of beauty most bright; And many a gallant brave suitor had she, For none was so comely as pretty Bessee.

And though she was truly of favour most fair, Yet seeing she was but a poor beggar's heir, Of ancient housekeepers despis-ed was she, Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.

Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessy did say, "Good father, and mother, let me go away To seek out my fortune, whatever it be."

This suit then they granted to pretty Bessee.

Then Bessy, that was of a beauty so bright, All clad in grey russet, and late in the night From father and mother alone parted she; Who sigh-ed and sobb-ed for pretty Bessee.

She went till she came into Stratford-le-Bow; Then knew she not whither, nor which way to go: With tears she lamented her hard destin-ie, So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.

She kept on her journey until it was day, And went unto Rumford along the highway; Where at the Queen's Arms entertain-ed was she: So fair and well-favoured was pretty Bessee.

She had not been there a month to an end, But master and mistress and all was her friend: And every brave gallant, that once did her see, Was straightway enamoured of pretty Bessee.

Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, And in their songs daily her love was extolled; Her beauty was blaz-ed in every degree, So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

The young men of Rumford in her had their joy; She showed herself courteous, and modestly coy, And at her command-ement still would they be; So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.

Four suitors at once unto her did go; They crav-ed her favour, but still she said no; I would not wish gentles to marry with me; Yet ever they honour-ed pretty Bessee.

The first of them was a gallant young knight, And he came unto her disguised in the night: The second a gentleman of good degree, Who woo-ed and su-ed for pretty Bessee:

A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, He was the third suitor, and proper withal: Her master's own son the fourth man must be, Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee.

"And, if thou wilt marry with me," quoth the knight, "I'll make thee a lady with joy and delight; My heart's so inthrall-ed by thy beaut-ie, That soon I shall die for pretty Bessee."

The gentleman said, "Come, marry with me, As fine as a lady my Bessy shall be: My life is distress-ed: O hear me," quoth he; "And grant me thy love, my pretty Bessee."

"Let me be thy husband," the merchant could say, "Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay; My s.h.i.+ps shall bring home rich jewels for thee, And I will for ever love pretty Bessee."

Then Bessy she sigh-ed, and thus she did say, "My father and mother I mean to obey; First get their good will, and be faithful to me, And you shall enjoy your pretty Bessee."

To every one this answer she made, Wherefore unto her they joyfully said,-- "This thing to fulfil we all do agree: But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?"

"My father," she said, "is soon to be seen: The seely blind beggar of Bethnal Green, That daily sits begging for charit-ie, He is the good father of pretty Bessee."

"His marks and his tokens are known very well; He always is led with a dog and a bell: A seely old man, G.o.d knoweth, is he, Yet he is the father of pretty Bessee."

"Nay then," quoth the merchant, "thou art not for me:"

"Nor," quoth the innholder, "my wife thou shalt be:"

"I loathe," said the gentle, "a beggar's degree, And therefore adieu, my pretty Bessee!"

"Why then," quoth the knight, "hap better or worse, I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse, And beauty is beauty in every degree; Then welcome unto me, my pretty Bessee:

"With thee to thy father forthwith I will go."

"Nay soft," quoth his kinsmen, "it must not be so; A poor beggar's daughter no lady shall be; Then take thy adieu of pretty Bessee."