The Children's Garland from the Best Poets Part 39

'The flower of mine affected heart, Whose sweetness doth excel All roses else a thousand times, I bid thee now farewell.'

When Rosamund, that lady bright, Did hear the king say so, The sorrow of her grieved heart Her outward looks did show;

And from her clear and crystal eyes The tears gush'd out apace, Which like the silver pearled dew Ran down her comely face.

'Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose?

The king did often say.

'Because,' quoth she, 'to b.l.o.o.d.y wars My lord must part away.

'But since your Grace on foreign coasts, Among your foes unkind, Must go to hazard life and limb, Why should I stay behind?

'Nay, rather let me, like a page, Your sword and target bear, That on my breast the blows may light, Which would offend you there.

'So I your presence may enjoy No toil I will refuse; But wanting you, my life is death; Nay, death I'd rather choose!'

'Content thyself, my dearest love, Thy rest at home shall be In England's sweet and pleasant isle; For travel fits not thee.

My Rose shall safely here abide, With music pa.s.s the day; Whilst I, among the piercing pikes, My foes seek far away.

And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust To be my love's defence; Be careful of my gallant Rose When I am parted hence.'

And therewithal he fetch'd a sigh As though his heart would break: And Rosamund, for very grief, Not one plain word could speak.

And at their parting well they might In heart be grieved sore: After that day fair Rosamund The king did see no more.

For when his Grace had past the seas, And into France was gone, With envious heart queen Ellinor To Woodstock came anone.

And forth she calls this trusty knight In an unhappy hour; Who with his clue of twined thread Came from this famous bower.

And when that they had wounded him The queen this thread did get, And went, where lady Rosamund Was like an angel set.

But when the queen with steadfast eye Beheld her beauteous face, She was amazed in her mind At her exceeding grace.

'Cast off from thee those robes,' she said, 'That rich and costly be; And drink thou up this deadly draught, Which I have brought to thee.'

Then presently upon her knees Sweet Rosamund did fell; And pardon of the queen she craved For her offences all.

'Take pity on my youthful years,'

Fair Rosamund did cry; 'And let me not with poison strong Enforced be to die.'

And with these words, her lily hands She wrung full often there; And down along her lovely face Did trickle many a tear.

But nothing could this furious queen Therewith appeased be; The cup of deadly poison strong, As she knelt on her knee,

She gave this comely dame to drink, Who took it in her hand, And from her bended knee arose, And on her feet did stand;

And casting up her eyes to heaven She did for mercy call; And drinking up the poison strong, Her life she lost withal.

And when that death through every limb Had showed its greatest spite, Her chiefest foes did plain confess She was a glorious wight.

Her body then they did entomb, When life was fled away, At G.o.dstowe, near to Oxford town, As may be seen this day.

_T. Delone_

CXV

_THE HITCHEN MAY-DAY SONG_

Remember us poor Mayers all!

And thus we do begin To lead our lives in righteousness, Or else we die in sin.

We have been rambling all the night, And almost all the day; And now returned back again, We have brought you a branch of May.

A branch of May we have brought you, And at your door it stands; It is but a sprout, but it's well budded out By the work of our Lord's hands.

The hedges and trees they are so green, As green as any leek; Our heavenly Father He water'd them With His heavenly dew so sweet.

The heavenly gates are open wide, Our paths are beaten plain; And if a man be not too far gone, He may return again.

The life of man is but a span, It flourishes like a flower; We are here to-day and gone to-morrow, And we are dead in an hour.

The moon shines bright, and the stars give a light, A little before it is day: So G.o.d bless you all, both great and small, And send you a joyful May!

_Old Song_

CXVI

_THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE_

Will you hear a Spanish lady How she woo'd an English man?

Garments gay and rich as may be, Decked with jewels, had she on; Of a comely countenance and grace was she, And by birth and parentage of high degree.

As his prisoner there he kept her, In his hands her life did lie; Cupid's bands did tie her faster, By the liking of an eye; In his courteous company was all her joy, To favour him in any thing she was not coy.

At the last there came commandment For to set the ladies free, With their jewels still adorned, None to do them injury: 'Alas!' then said this lady gay, 'full woe is me; O let me still sustain this kind captivity!

'O gallant captain, show some pity To a lady in-distress; Leave me not within the city, For to die in heaviness; Thou hast set this present day my body free, But my heart in prison strong remains with thee.'

'How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, Whom thou know'st thy country's foe?

Thy fair words make me suspect thee; Serpents are where flowers grow.'