Reliques of ancient English poetry, by T. Percy

The children then they bring,

So their mother will'd it, Where the royall king

Must of force come bye:
Their mothers riche array,
Was of crimson velvet:
Their fathers all of gray,
Seemelye to the eye.
Then this famous king,
Noting every thing,

Askt how he durst be so bold
To let his wife soe weare,
And decke his children there

In costly robes of pearl and gold.
The forrester replying,
And the cause descrying,

To the king these words did say,
Well may they, by their mother,
Weare rich clothes with other,

Being by birth a princesse gay.

The king aroused thus,

More heedfullye beheld them,
Till a crimson blush

His remembrance crost.
The more I fix my mind

On thy wife and children,
The more methinks I find
The daughter which I lost.
Falling on her knee,

'I am that child,' quoth shee;
'Pardon mee, my soveraine liege.'
The king perceiving this,

His daughter deare did kiss,

While joyfull teares did stopp his speeche.
With his traine he tourned,
And with them sojourned.

Strait he dubb'd her husband knight;
Then made him erle of Flanders,
And chiefe of his commanders:

Thus were their sorrowes put to flight.

XVII. THE SWEET NEGLECT.

THIS little madrigal (extracted from Ben Jonson's Silent Woman) is in imitation of a Latin poem beginning Semper munditias, semper Basilissa, decoras, etc.

STILL to be neat, still to be drest,

As you were going to a feast:

Still to be poud'red, still perfum'd:
Lady, it is to be presum'd,

Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.

Give me a looke, give me a face,
That makes simplicitie a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, haire as free:
Such sweet neglect more taketh me,
Than all th' adulteries of art,

That strike mine eyes, but not my heart.

XVIII. THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD.

THE subject of this very popular ballad (which has been set in so favourable a light by the Spectator, No. 85) scems to be taken from an old play, entitled, Two lamentable Tragedies; the one of the murder of Maister Beech, a chandler in Thames-streete, etc. The other of a young child murthered in a wood by two ruffians, with the consent of his unkle. By Rob. Yarrington, 1601, 4to. Our ballad-maker has strictly followed the play in the description of the father and mother's dying charge: in the uncle's promisc to take care of their issue: his hiring two ruffians to destroy his ward, under pretence of sending him to school: their choosing a wood to perpetrate the murder in: one of

the ruffians relenting, and a battle ensuing, etc. In other respects he has departed from the play. In the latter the scene is laid in Padua: there is but one child: which is murdered by a sudden stab of the unrelenting ruffian: he is slain himself by his less bloody companion; but ere he dies gives the other a mortal wound: the latter living just long enough to impeach the uncle; who, in consequence of this impeachment, is arraigned and executed by the hand of justice, etc. Whoever compares the play with the ballad, will have no doubt but the former is the original: the language is far more obsolete, and such a vein of simplicity runs through the whole performance, that, had the ballad been written first, there is no doubt but every circumstance of it would have been received into the drama: whereas this was probably built on some Italian novel. Printed from two ancient copies, one of them in black letter in the Pepys Collection. Its title at large is, The Children in the Wood; or, The Norfolk Gentleman's Last Will and Testament. To the tune of "Rogero," etc.

God never prosper me nor mine,

Nor aught else that I have, If I do wrong your children deare, When you are layd in grave.

The parents being dead and gone,

The children home he takes,
And bringes them straite into his house,
Where much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a daye,
But, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both awaye.

He bargain'd with two ruffians strong,
Which were of furious mood,

That they should take these children young,

And slaye them in a wood.
He told his wife an artful tale,

He would the children send
To be brought up in faire London,
With one that was his friend.

Away then went those pretty babes,
Rejoycing at that tide,
Rejoycing with a merry minde,

They should on cock-horse ride.
They prate and prattle pleasantly,

As they rode on the waye,

To those that should their butchers be, And work their lives decaye:

So that the pretty speeche they had,

Made Murder's heart relent; And they that undertooke the deed,

Full sore did now repent. Yet one of them more hard of heart,

Did vowe to do his charge, Because the wretch, that hired 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 childrens life:
And he that was of mildest mood,
Did slaye the other there,

Within an unfrequented wood; The babes did quake for feare!

He took the children by the hand,
Teares standing in their eye,
And bad them straitwaye follow him,
And look they did not crye:
And two long miles he ledd them on,
While they for food complaine :
Staye here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread,
When I come back againe.

These pretty babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and downe;

But never more could see the man

Approaching from the town:

Their prettye lippes with black-berries,
Were all besmear'd and dyed,

And when they sawe the darksome night,
They sat them downe and cryed.

Thus wandered these poor innocents,
Till deathe did end their grief,
In one anothers armes they dyed,
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 wrathe of God

Upon their uncle fell;

Yea, fearfull fiends did haunt his house,
His conscience felt an hell:

His barnes were fir'd, his goodes consum'd,
His landes were barren made,
His cattle dyed within the field,

And nothing with him stayd.

And in a voyage to Portugal

Two of his sonnes did dye;
And to conclude, himselfe was brought
To want and miserye :

He pawn'd and mortgaged all his land
Ere seven yeares came about.
And now at length this wicked act

Did by this meanes come out :

The fellowe, that did take in hand

These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judg'd to dye,

Such was God's blessed will:
Who did confess the very truth,
As here hath been display'd:
Their uncle having dyed in gaol,
Where he for debt was layd.

You that executors be made,

And overseers eke
Of children that be fatherless,

And infants mild and meek;
Take you example by this thing,
And yield to each his right,
Lest God with such like miserye
Your wicked minds requite.

XIX.-A LOVER OF LATE.

PRINTED, with a few slight corrections, from the Editor's folio MS.

A LOVER of late was I,

For Cupid would have it soe, The boy that hath never an eye,

As every man doth know :

I sighed and sobbed, and cryed, alas!
For her that laught, and called me ass.

Then knew not I what to doe,

When I saw itt was in vaine
A lady soe coy to wooe,

Who gave me the asse soe plaine :
Yet would I her asse freelye bee,
Soe shee would helpe, and beare with mee.

An' I were as faire as shee,

Or shee were as kind as I,
What payre cold have made, as wee,
Soe prettye a sympathye :

I was as kind as shee was faire,
But for all this wee cold not paire.

Paire with her that will for mee,
With her I will never paire ;
That cunningly can be coy,

For being a little faire.

The asse Ile leave to her disdaine;
And now I am myselfe againe.

XX. THE KING AND MILLER OF MANSFIELD.

IT has been a favourite subject with our English ballad-makers to represent our kings conversing, either by accident or design, with the meanest of their subjects. Of the former kind, besides this song of The King and the Miller, we have King Henry and the Soldier; King James I. and the Tinker; King William III. and the Forester, etc. Of the latter sort, are King Alfred and the Shepherd; King Edward IV. and the Tanner; King Henry VIII. and the Cobbler, etc. A few of the best of these are admitted into this collection. Both the author of the following ballad, and others who have written on the same plan, seem to have copied a very ancient poem, entitied John the Recve, which is built on an adventure of the same kind, that happened between King Edward Longshanks and one of his reeves or bailiffs. This is a piece of great antiquity, being written before the time of Edward IV., and for its genuine humour, diverting incidents, and faithful picture of rustic manners, is infinitely superior to all that have been since written in imitation of it. The Editor has a copy in his ancient folio MS., but its length rendered it improper for this volume, it consist

ing of more than 900 lines. It contains also some corruptions, and the Editor chooses to defer its publication, in hopes that some time or other he shall be able to remove them.

The following is printed, with corrections, from the Editor's folio MS., collated with an old black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, entitied, A pleasant ballad of King Henry II. and the Miller of Mansfield, etc.

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