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Now stay for me, dear Annet, he sed,
Now stay, my dear, he cry'd;

Then strake the dagger untill his heart,

And fell deid by her side.

Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',

Fair Annet within the quiere;

And o' the tane thair grew a birk,

The other a bonny briere.

And ay they grew, and ay they threw,

As they wad faine be neare;

And by this ye may ken right weil,

They were twa luvers deare.

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V.

UNFADING BEAUTY.

This little beautiful sonnet is reprinted from a small volume of "Poems by THOMAS CAREW, Esq. one of "the gentlemen of the privie-chamber, and sewer in "ordinary to his majesty (Charles I.) Lond. 1640." This elegant and almost-forgotten writer, whose poems have been deservedly revived, died, in the prime of his age, in 1639.

In the original follows a third stanza; which, not being of general application, nor of equal merit, I have ventured to omit.

HEE, that loves a rosie cheeke,
Or a corall lip admires,

Or from star-like eyes doth seeke
Fuell to maintaine his fires,
As old time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.

But a smooth and stedfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calme desires,
Hearts with equal love combin❜d,

Kindle never-dying fires:

Where these are not, I despise

Lovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes.

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VI.

GEORGE BARNWELL.

The subject of this ballad is sufficiently popular from the modern play which is founded upon it. This was written by GEORGE LILLO, a jeweller of London, and first acted about 1750.-As for the ballad, it was printed at least as early as the middle of the last century.

It is here given from three old printed copies, which exhibit a strange intermixture of Roman and black letter. It is also collated with another copy in the Ashmole Collection at Oxford, which is thus intitled, "An excellent ballad of GEORGE BARNWELL, an ap"prentice of London, who... thrice robbed, his mas"ter and murdered his uncle in Ludlow." The tune is "The Merchant."

This tragical narrative seems to relate a real fact; but when it happened I have not been able to discover.

THE FIRST PART.

ALL youths of fair England

That dwell both far and near,

Regard my story that I tell,

And to my song give ear.

A London lad I was,

A merchant's prentice bound;

My name George Barnwell; that did spend

My master many a pound.

Take heed of harlots then,

And their enticing trains;

For by that means I have been brought

To hang alive in chains.

As I, upon a day,

Was walking through thetre set

About my master's business,

A wanton I did meet.

A gallant dainty dame,

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Thus parted we in peace,

And home I passed right;

Then went abroad, and gathered in,
By six o'clock at night,

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Who, through her beauty bright,

So gloriously did shine,

That she amaz'd my dazzling eyes,

She seemed so divine.

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