Books: Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England
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Robert Bell >> Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of England
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Consider this, young gallants, whilst you may,
Swift-winged time and tide for none will stay;
And therefore let it be your christian care,
To serve the Lord, and for your death prepare.
There is another crying sin likewise:
Behold young gallants cast their wanton eyes
On painted harlots, which they often meet
At every creek and corner of the street,
By whom they are like dismal captives led
To their destruction; grace and fear is fled,
Till at the length they find themselves betrayed,
And for that sin most sad examples made.
Then, then, perhaps, in bitter tears they'll cry,
With wringing hands, against their company,
Which did betray them to that dismal state!
Consider this before it is too late.
Likewise, sons and daughters, far and near,
Honour your loving friends, and parents dear;
Let not your disobedience grieve them so,
Nor cause their aged eyes with tears to flow.
What a heart-breaking sorrow it must be,
To dear indulgent parents, when they see
Their stubborn children wilfully run on
Against the wholesome laws of God and man!
Oh! let these things a deep impression make
Upon your hearts, with speed your sins forsake;
For, true it is, the Lord will never bless
Those children that do wilfully transgress.
Now, to conclude, both young and old I pray,
Reform your sinful lives this very day,
That God in mercy may his love extend,
And bring the nation's troubles to an end.
Poem: SMOKING SPIRITUALIZED.
[The following old poem was long ascribed, on apparently sufficient
grounds, to the Rev. Ralph Erskine, or, as he designated himself,
'Ralph Erskine, V.D.M.' The peasantry throughout the north of
England always call it 'Erskine's song,' and not only is his name
given as the author in numerous chap-books, but in his own volume
of Gospel Sonnets, from an early copy of which our version is
transcribed. The discovery however, by Mr. Collier, of the First
Part in a MS. temp. Jac. I., with the initials G. W. affixed to it,
has disposed of Erskine's claim to the honour of the entire
authorship. G. W. is supposed to be George Withers; but this is
purely conjectural; and it is not at all improbable that G. W.
really stands for W. G., as it was a common practice amongst
anonymous writers to reverse their initials. The history, then, of
the poem, seems to be this: that the First Part, as it is now
printed, originally constituted the whole production, being
complete in itself; that the Second Part was afterwards added by
the Rev. Ralph Erskine; and that both parts came subsequently to
be ascribed to him, as his was the only name published in connexion
with the song. The Rev. Ralph Erskine was born at Monilaws,
Northumberland, on the 15th March, 1685. He was one of the thirty-
three children of Ralph Erskine of Shieldfield, a family of repute
descended from the ancient house of Marr. He was educated at the
college in Edinburgh, obtained his licence to preach in June, 1709,
and was ordained, on an unanimous invitation, over the church at
Dunfermline in August, 1711. He was twice married: in 1714 to
Margaret Dewar, daughter of the Laird of Lassodie, by whom he had
five sons and five daughters, all of whom died in the prime of
life; and in 1732 to Margaret, daughter of Mr. Simson of Edinburgh,
by whom he had four sons, one of whom, with his wife, survived him.
He died in November, 1752. Erskine was the author of a great
number of Sermons; a Paraphrase on the Canticles; Scripture Songs;
a Treatise on Mental Images; and Gospel Sonnets.
Smoking Spiritualized is, at the present day, a standard
publication with modern ballad-printers, but their copies are
exceedingly corrupt. Many versions and paraphrases of the song
exist. Several are referred to in Notes and Queries, and, amongst
them, a broadside of the date of 1670, and another dated 1672 (both
printed before Erskine was born), presenting different readings of
the First Part, or original poem. In both these the burthen, or
refrain, differs from that of our copy by the employment of the
expression 'DRINK tobacco,' instead of 'SMOKE tobacco.' The former
was the ancient term for drawing in the smoke, swallowing it, and
emitting it through the nostrils. A correspondent of Notes and
Queries says, that the natives of India to this day use the phrase
'hooka peue,' to DRINK the hooka.]
PART I.
This Indian weed, now withered quite,
Though green at noon, cut down at night,
Shows thy decay;
All flesh is hay:
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
The pipe so lily-like and weak,
Does thus thy mortal state bespeak;
Thou art e'en such, -
Gone with a touch:
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
And when the smoke ascends on high,
Then thou behold'st the vanity
Of worldly stuff,
Gone with a puff:
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
And when the pipe grows foul within,
Think on thy soul defiled with sin;
For then the fire
It does require:
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
And seest the ashes cast away,
Then to thyself thou mayest say,
That to the dust
Return thou must.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
PART II.
Was this small plant for thee cut down?
So was the plant of great renown,
Which Mercy sends
For nobler ends.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
Doth juice medicinal proceed
From such a naughty foreign weed?
Then what's the power
Of Jesse's flower?
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
The promise, like the pipe, inlays,
And by the mouth of faith conveys,
What virtue flows
From Sharon's rose.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
In vain the unlighted pipe you blow,
Your pains in outward means are so,
Till heavenly fire
Your heart inspire.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
The smoke, like burning incense, towers,
So should a praying heart of yours,
With ardent cries,
Surmount the skies.
Thus think, and smoke tobacco.
Poem: THE MASONIC HYMN.
[This is a very ancient production, though given from a modern
copy; it has always been popular amongst the poor 'brethren of the
mystic tie.' The late Henry O'Brien, A.B., quotes the seventh
verse in his essay On the Round Towers of Ireland. He generally
had a common copy of the hymn in his pocket, and on meeting with
any of his antiquarian friends who were not Masons, was in the
habit of thrusting it into their hands, and telling them that if
they understood the mystic allusions it contained, they would be in
possession of a key which would unlock the pyramids of Egypt! The
tune to the hymn is peculiar to it, and is of a plaintive and
solemn character.]
Come all you freemasons that dwell around the globe,
That wear the badge of innocence, I mean the royal robe,
Which Noah he did wear when in the ark he stood,
When the world was destroyed by a deluging flood.
Noah he was virtuous in the sight of the Lord,
He loved a freemason that kept the secret word;
For he built the ark, and he planted the first vine,
Now his soul in heaven like an angel doth shine.
Once I was blind, and could not see the light,
Then up to Jerusalem I took my flight,
I was led by the evangelist through a wilderness of care,
You may see by the sign and the badge that I wear.
On the 13th rose the ark, let us join hand in hand,
For the Lord spake to Moses by water and by land,
Unto the pleasant river where by Eden it did rin,
And Eve tempted Adam by the serpent of sin.
When I think of Moses it makes me to blush,
All on mount Horeb where I saw the burning bush;
My shoes I'll throw off, and my staff I'll cast away,
And I'll wander like a pilgrim unto my dying day.
When I think of Aaron it makes me to weep,
Likewise of the Virgin Mary who lay at our Saviour's feet;
'Twas in the garden of Gethsemane where he had the bloody sweat;
Repent, my dearest brethren, before it is too late.
I thought I saw twelve dazzling lights, which put me in surprise,
And gazing all around me I heard a dismal noise;
The serpent passed by me which fell unto the ground,
With great joy and comfort the secret word I found.
Some say it is lost, but surely it is found,
And so is our Saviour, it is known to all around;
Search all the Scriptures over, and there it will be shown;
The tree that will bear no fruit must be cut down.
Abraham was a man well beloved by the Lord,
He was true to be found in great Jehovah's word,
He stretched forth his hand, and took a knife to slay his son,
An angel appearing said, The Lord's will be done!
O, Abraham! O, Abraham! lay no hand upon the lad,
He sent him unto thee to make thy heart glad;
Thy seed shall increase like stars in the sky,
And thy soul into heaven like Gabriel shall fly.
O, never, O, never will I hear an orphan cry,
Nor yet a gentle virgin until the day I die;
You wandering Jews that travel the wide world round,
May knock at the door where truth is to be found.
Often against the Turks and Infidels we fight,
To let the wandering world know we're in the right,
For in heaven there's a lodge, and St. Peter keeps the door,
And none can enter in but those that are pure.
St. Peter he opened, and so we entered in,
Into the holy seat secure, which is all free from sin;
St. Peter he opened, and so we entered there,
And the glory of the temple no man can compare.
Poem: GOD SPEED THE PLOW, AND BLESS THE CORN-MOW. A DIALOGUE
BETWEEN THE HUSBANDMAN AND SERVINGMAN.
The tune is, I am the Duke of Norfolk.
[This ancient dialogue, though in a somewhat altered form (see the
ensuing poem), has long been used at country merry-makings. It is
transcribed from a black-letter copy in the third volume of the
Roxburgh collection, apparently one of the imprints of Peter
Brooksby, which would make the composition at least as old as the
close of the fifteenth century. There are several dialogues of a
similar character.]
ARGUMENT.
The servingman the plowman would invite
To leave his calling and to take delight;
But he to that by no means will agree,
Lest he thereby should come to beggary.
He makes it plain appear a country life
Doth far excel: and so they end the strife.
My noble friends give ear, if mirth you love to hear,
I'll tell you as fast as I can,
A story very true, then mark what doth ensue,
Concerning of a husbandman.
A servingman did meet a husbandman in the street,
And thus unto him began:
SERVINGMAN.
I pray you tell to me of what calling you be,
Or if you be a servingman?
HUSBANDMAN.
Quoth he, my brother dear, the coast I mean to clear,
And the truth you shall understand:
I do no one disdain, but this I tell you plain,
I am an honest husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
If a husbandman you be, then come along with me,
I'll help you as soon as I can
Unto a gallant place, where in a little space,
You shall be a servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
Sir, for your diligence I give you many thanks,
These things I receive at your hand;
I pray you to me show, whereby that I might know,
What pleasures hath a servingman?
SERVINGMAN.
A servingman hath pleasure, which passeth time and measure,
When the hawk on his fist doth stand;
His hood, and his verrils brave, and other things, we have,
Which yield joy to a servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
My pleasure's more than that to see my oxen fat,
And to prosper well under my hand;
And therefore I do mean, with my horse, and with my team,
To keep myself a husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
O 'tis a gallant thing in the prime time of the spring,
To hear the huntsman now and than
His bugle for to blow, and the hounds run all a row:
This is pleasure for a servingman!
To hear the beagle cry, and to see the falcon fly,
And the hare trip over the plain,
And the huntsmen and the hound make hill and dale rebound:
This is pleasure for a servingman!
HUSBANDMAN.
'Tis pleasure, too, you know, to see the corn to grow,
And to grow so well on the land;
The plowing and the sowing, the reaping and the mowing,
Yield pleasure to the husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
At our table you may eat all sorts of dainty meat,
Pig, cony, goose, capon, and swan;
And with lords and ladies fine, you may drink beer, ale, and wine!
This is pleasure for a servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
While you eat goose and capon, I'll feed on beef and bacon,
And piece of hard cheese now and than;
We pudding have, and souse, always ready in the house,
Which contents the honest husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
At the court you may have your garments fine and brave,
And cloak with gold lace laid upon,
A shirt as white as milk, and wrought with finest silk:
That's pleasure for a servingman!
HUSBANDMAN.
Such proud and costly gear is not for us to wear;
Amongst the briers and brambles many a one,
A good strong russet coat, and at your need a groat,
Will suffice the husbandman.
A proverb here I tell, which likes my humour well,
And remember it well I can,
If a courtier be too bold, he'll want when he is old.
Then farewell the servingman.
SERVINGMAN.
It needs must be confest that your calling is the best,
No longer discourse with you I can;
But henceforth I will pray, by night and by day,
Heaven bless the honest husbandman.
Poem: A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE HUSBANDMAN AND THE SERVINGMAN.
[This traditional version of the preceding ancient dialogue has
long been popular at country festivals. At a harvest-home feast at
Selborne, in Hampshire, in 1836, we heard it recited by two
countrymen, who gave it with considerable humour, and dramatic
effect. It was delivered in a sort of chant, or recitative.
Davies Gilbert published a very similar copy in his Ancient
Christmas Carols. In the modern printed editions, which are almost
identical with ours, the term 'servantman' has been substituted for
the more ancient designation.]
SERVINGMAN.
Well met, my brother friend, all at this highway end,
So simple all alone, as you can,
I pray you tell to me, what may your calling be,
Are you not a servingman?
HUSBANDMAN.
No, no, my brother dear, what makes you to inquire
Of any such a thing at my hand?
Indeed I shall not feign, but I will tell you plain,
I am a downright husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
If a husbandman you be, then go along with me,
And quickly you shall see out of hand,
How in a little space I will help you to a place,
Where you may be a servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
Kind sir! I 'turn you thanks for your intelligence,
These things I receive at your hand;
But something pray now show, that first I may plainly know
The pleasures of a servingman.
SERVINGMAN.
Why a servingman has pleasure beyond all sort of measure,
With his hawk on his fist, as he does stand;
For the game that he does kill, and the meat that does him fill,
Are pleasures for the servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
And my pleasure's more than that, to see my oxen fat,
And a good stock of hay by them stand;
My plowing and my sowing, my reaping and my mowing,
Are pleasures for the husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
Why it is a gallant thing to ride out with a king,
With a lord, duke, or any such man;
To hear the horns to blow, and see the hounds all in a row,
That is pleasure for the servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
But my pleasure's more I know, to see my corn to grow,
So thriving all over my land;
And, therefore, I do mean, with my plowing with my team,
To keep myself a husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
Why the diet that we eat is the choicest of all meat,
Such as pig, goose, capon, and swan;
Our pastry is so fine, we drink sugar in our wine,
That is living for the servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
Talk not of goose nor capon, give me good beef or bacon,
And good bread and cheese, now at hand;
With pudding, brawn, and souse, all in a farmer's house,
That is living for the husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
Why the clothing that we wear is delicate and rare,
With our coat, lace, buckles, and band;
Our shirts are white as milk, and our stockings they are silk,
That is clothing for a servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
But I value not a hair your delicate fine wear,
Such as gold is laced upon;
Give me a good grey coat, and in my purse a groat,
That is clothing for the husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
Kind sir! it would be bad if none could be had
Those tables for to wait upon;
There is no lord, duke, nor squire, nor member for the shire,
Can do without a servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
But, Jack! it would be worse if there was none of us
To follow the plowing of the land;
There is neither king, lord, nor squire, nor member for the shire,
Can do without the husbandman.
SERVINGMAN.
Kind sir! I must confess't, and I humbly protest
I will give you the uppermost hand;
Although your labour's painful, and mine it is so very gainful,
I wish I were a husbandman.
HUSBANDMAN.
So come now, let us all, both great as well as small,
Pray for the grain of our land;
And let us, whatsoever, do all our best endeavour,
For to maintain the good husbandman.
Poem: THE CATHOLICK.
[The following ingenious production has been copied literally from
a broadside posted against the 'parlour' wall of a country inn in
Gloucestershire. The verses are susceptible of two
interpretations, being Catholic if read in the columns, but
Protestant if read across.]
I HOLD as faith What ENGLAND'S CHURCH alows
What ROME'S church saith My conscience disavows
Where the KING'S head That CHURCH can have no shame
The flocks misled That holds the POPE supreame.
Where the ALTARS drest There's service scarce divine
The peoples blest With table, bread, and wine.
He's but an asse Who the COMMUNION flies
Who shuns the MASSE Is CATHOLICK and wise.
London: printed for George Eversden, at the signe of the
Maidenhead, in St. Powle's Church-yard, 1655. Cum privilegio.
Ballad: THE THREE KNIGHTS. (TRADITIONAL.)
[The Three Knights was first printed by the late Davies Gilbert,
F.R.S., in the appendix to his work on Christmas Carols. Mr.
Gilbert thought that some verses were wanting after the eighth
stanza; but we entertain a different opinion. A conjectural
emendation made in the ninth verse, viz., the substitution of FAR
for FOR, seems to render the ballad perfect. The ballad is still
popular amongst the peasantry in the West of England. The tune is
given by Gilbert. The refrain, in the second and fourth lines,
printed with the first verse, should be repeated in recitation in
every verse.]
There did three Knights come from the west,
With the high and the lily oh!
And these three Knights courted one ladye,
As the rose was so sweetly blown.
The first Knight came was all in white,
And asked of her if she'd be his delight.
The next Knight came was all in green,
And asked of her if she'd be his queen.
The third Knight came was all in red,
And asked of her if she would wed.
'Then have you asked of my father dear?
Likewise of her who did me bear?
'And have you asked of my brother John?
And also of my sister Anne?'
'Yes, I've asked of your father dear,
Likewise of her who did you bear.
'And I've asked of your sister Anne,
But I've not asked of your brother John.'
Far on the road as they rode along,
There did they meet with her brother John.
She stooped low to kiss him sweet,
He to her heart did a dagger meet. {2}
'Ride on, ride on,' cried the servingman,
'Methinks your bride she looks wondrous wan.'
'I wish I were on yonder stile,
For there I would sit and bleed awhile.
'I wish I were on yonder hill,
There I'd alight and make my will.'
'What would you give to your father dear?'
'The gallant steed which doth me bear.'
'What would you give to your mother dear?'
'My wedding shift which I do wear.
'But she must wash it very clean,
For my heart's blood sticks in every seam.'
'What would you give to your sister Anne?'
'My gay gold ring, and my feathered fan.'
'What would you give to your brother John?'
'A rope, and a gallows to hang him on.'
'What would you give to your brother John's wife?'
'A widow's weeds, and a quiet life.'
Poem: THE BLIND BEGGAR OF BEDNALL GREEN. SHOWING HOW HIS DAUGHTER
WAS MARRIED TO A KNIGHT, AND HAD THREE THOUSAND POUND TO HER
PORTION.
[Percy's copy of The Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green is known to
be very incorrect: besides many alterations and improvements which
it received at the hands of the Bishop, it contains no less than
eight stanzas written by Robert Dodsley, the author of The Economy
of Human Life. So far as poetry is concerned, there cannot be a
question that the version in the Reliques is far superior to the
original, which is still a popular favourite, and a correct copy of
which is now given, as it appears in all the common broadside
editions that have been printed from 1672 to the present time.
Although the original copies have all perished, the ballad has been
very satisfactorily proved by Percy to have been written in the
reign of Elizabeth. The present reprint is from a modern copy,
carefully collated with one in the Bagford Collection, entitled,
'The rarest ballad that ever was seen,
Of the Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednal Green.'
The imprint to it is, 'Printed by and for W. Onley; and are to be
sold by C. Bates, at the sign of the Sun and Bible, in Pye Corner.'
The very antiquated orthography adopted in some editions does not
rest on any authority. For two tunes to The Blind Beggar, see
Popular Music.]
PART I.
This song's of a beggar who long lost his sight,
And had a fair daughter, most pleasant and bright,
And many a gallant brave suitor had she,
And none was so comely as pretty Bessee.
And though she was of complexion most fair,
And seeing she was but a beggar his heir,
Of ancient housekeepers despised was she,
Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee.
Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessee did say:
'Good father and mother, let me now go away,
To seek out my fortune, whatever it be.'
This suit then was granted to pretty Bessee.
This Bessee, that was of a beauty most bright,
They clad in grey russet; and late in the night
From father and mother alone parted she,
Who sighed and sobbed for pretty Bessee.
She went till she came to Stratford-at-Bow,
Then she know not whither or which way to go,
With tears she lamented her sad destiny;
So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee.
She kept on her journey until it was day,
And went unto Rumford, along the highway;
And at the King's Arms entertained was she,
So fair and well favoured was pretty Bessee.
She had not been there one month at an end,
But master and mistress and all was her friend:
And every brave gallant that once did her see,
Was straightway in love with pretty Bessee.
Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold,
And in their songs daily her love they extolled:
Her beauty was blazed in every decree,
So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.
The young men of Rumford in her had their joy,
She showed herself courteous, but never too coy,
And at their commandment still she would be,
So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee.
Four suitors at once unto her did go,
They craved her favour, but still she said no;
I would not have gentlemen marry with me!
Yet ever they honoured pretty Bessee.
Now one of them was a gallant young knight,
And he came unto her disguised in the night;
The second, a gentleman of high degree,
Who wooed and sued for pretty Bessee.
A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small,
Was then the third suitor, and proper withal;
Her master's own son the fourth man must be,
Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee.
'If that thou wilt marry with me,' quoth the knight,
'I'll make thee a lady with joy and delight;
My heart is enthralled in thy fair beauty,
Then grant me thy favour, my pretty Bessee.'
The gentleman said, 'Come marry with me,
In silks and in velvet my Bessee shall be;
My heart lies distracted, oh! hear me,' quoth he,
'And grant me thy love, my dear pretty Bessee.'
'Let me be thy husband,' the merchant did say,
'Thou shalt live in London most gallant and gay;
My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee,
And I will for ever love pretty Bessee.'
Then Bessee she sighed 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 dear pretty Bessee.'
To every one of them that answer she made,
Therefore unto her they joyfully said:
'This thing to fulfil we all now agree,
But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?'
'My father,' quoth she, 'is soon to be seen:
The silly blind beggar of Bednall Green,
That daily sits begging for charity,
He is the kind father of pretty Bessee.
'His marks and his token are knowen full well,
He always is led by a dog and a bell;
A poor silly old man, God knoweth, is he,
Yet he's the true father of pretty Bessee.'
'Nay, nay,' quoth the merchant, 'thou art not for me.'
'She,' quoth the innholder, 'my wife shall not be.'
'I loathe,' said the gentleman, 'a beggar's degree,
Therefore, now farewell, 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 to me, my dear pretty Bessee.
'With thee to thy father forthwith I will go.'
'Nay, forbear,' quoth his kinsman, 'it must not be so:
A poor beggar's daughter a lady shan't be;
Then take thy adieu of thy pretty Bessee.'
As soon then as it was break of the day,
The knight had from Rumford stole Bessee away;
The young men of Rumford, so sick as may be,
Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessee.
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