A Bundle of Ballads Part 8

"For thou," quoth he, "shalt be my wife, And honoured for my queen; With thee I mean to lead my life, As shortly shall be seen: Our wedding shall appointed be, And every thing in its degree; Come on," quoth he, "and follow me, Thou shalt go shift thee clean.

What is thy name, fair maid?" quoth he.

"Zenelophon, O king," quoth she: With that she made a low courts-ey, A trim one as I ween.

Thus hand in hand along they walk Unto the king's pal-ace: The king with courteous comely talk This beggar doth embrace: The beggar blusheth scarlet red, And straight again as pale as lead, But not a word at all she said, She was in such amaze.

At last she spake with trembling voice And said, "O king, I do rejoice That you will take me for your choice, And my degree's so base."

And when the wedding day was come, The king commanded straight The n.o.blemen both all and some Upon the queen to wait.

And she behaved herself that day, As if she had never walked the way; She had forgot her gown of gray, Which she did wear of late.

The proverb old is come to pa.s.s, The priest, when he begins his ma.s.s, Forgets that ever clerk he was; He knoweth not his estate.

Here you may read, Cophetua, Though long time fancy-fed, Compell-ed by the blinded boy The beggar for to wed: He that did lovers' looks disdain, To do the same was glad and fain, Or else he would himself have slain, In story as we read.

Disdain no whit, O lady dear, But pity now thy servant here, Lest that it hap to thee this year, As to that king it did.

And thus they led a quiet life During their princely reign; And in a tomb were buried both, As writers showeth plain.

The lords they took it grievously, The ladies took it heavily, The commons cri-ed piteously, Their death to them was pain.

Their fame did sound so pa.s.singly, That it did pierce the starry sky, And throughout all the world did fly To every prince's realm.

TAKE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE.

This winter's weather it waxeth cold, And frost doth freeze on every hill, And Boreas blows his blasts so bold, That all our cattle are like to spill; Bell my wife, who loves no strife, She said unto me quietly, "Rise up, and save cow Crumbock's life; Man, put thine old cloak about thee."

He.

"O Bell, why dost thou flyte and scorn?

Thou ken'st my cloak is very thin: It is so bare and overworn A crick he thereon cannot renn: Then I'll no longer borrow nor lend, For once I'll new apparelled be, To-morrow I'll to town and spend, For I'll have a new cloak about me."

She.

"Cow Crumbock is a very good cow, She ha' been always true to the pail, She's helped us to b.u.t.ter and cheese, I trow, And other things she will not fail: I wad be loth to see her pine, Good husband, counsel take of me, It is not for us to go so fine; Man, take thine old cloak about thee."

He.

"My cloak it was a very good cloak, It hath been always true to the wear, But now it is not worth a groat; I have had it four and forty year: Sometime it was of cloth in grain, 'Tis now but a sigh-clout, as you may see, It will neither hold out wind nor rain; And I'll have a new cloak about me."

She.

"It is four and forty years ago Since the one of us the other did ken, And we have had betwixt us two Of children either nine or ten; We have brought them up to women and men; In the fear of G.o.d I trow they be; And why wilt thou thyself misken?

Man, take thine old cloak about thee."

He.

"O Bell my wife, why dost thou flout?

Now is now, and then was then: Seek now all the world throughout, Thou ken'st not clowns from gentlemen.

They are clad in black, green, yellow, or gray, So far above their own degree: Once in my life I'll do as they, For I'll have a new cloak about me."

She.

"King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown, He held them sixpence all too dear; Therefore he called the tailor lown.

He was a wight of high renown, And thou's but of a low degree: It's pride that puts this country down; Man, take thine old cloak about thee."

He.

Bell my wife she loves not strife, Yet she will lead me if she can; And oft, to live a quiet life, I am forced to yield, though I'm good-man; It's not for a man with a woman to threap, Unless he first gave o'er the plea: As we began we now will leave, And I'll take mine old cloak about me.

WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW.

A poor soul sat sighing under a sycamore tree; "O willow, willow, willow!"

With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee: "O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and."

He sighed in his singing, and after each groan, "Come willow, willow, willow!

I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone; O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and.

"My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove: O willow, willow, willow!

She renders me nothing but hate for my love.

O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and.

"O pity me," cried he, "ye lovers, each one; O willow, willow, willow!

Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my moan.

O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and."

The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace; "O willow, willow, willow!"

The salt tears fell from him, which drown-ed his face: "O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and."

The mute birds sat by him, made tame by his moans: "O willow, willow, willow!"

The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones.

"O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and.

"Let n.o.body blame me, her scorns I do prove; O willow, willow, willow!

She was born to be fair; I, to die for her love.

O willow, willow, willow!

O willow, willow, willow!

Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and.

"O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard!

Sing willow, willow, willow!

My true love rejecting without all regard.