SIMON WASTELL (1560-1630).

Like as the damask rose you see,
Or like the blossom on the tree,
Or like the dainty flower in May,
Or like the morning of the day,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonas had;-
Even such is man, whose thread is spun,
Drawn out and cut, and so is done.

The rose withers, the blossom blasteth;
The flower fades, the morning hasteth;
The sun sets, the shadow flies;

The gourd consumes, and man he dies.

Like to the grass that's newly sprung,
Or like a tale that's new begun,
Or like the bird that's here to-day,
Or like the pearléd dew of May,
Or like an hour, or like a span,
Or like the singing of a swan ;
Even such is man, who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life and death.

The grass withers, the tale is ended;
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended;
The hour is short, the span not long;
The swan near death; man's life is done.

ROBIN HOOD AND ALLIN-A-DALE. ANONYMOUS.

Come, listen to me, you gallants so free,
All you that love mirth for to hear,
And I will tell you of a bold outlaw
That lived in Nottinghamshire.
As Robin Hood in the forest stood,
All under the greenwood tree,

There he was aware of a brave young man,
As fine as fine might be.

The youngster was clothed in scarlet red,
In scarlet fine and gay;

And he did frisk it over the plain,
And chanted a roundelay.

As Robin Hood next morning stood
Amongst the leaves so gay,

There did he espy the same young man
Come drooping along the way.

The scarlet he wore the day before

It was clean cast away;

And at every step he fetched a sigh"Alack, and a well-a-day!"

Then stepped forth brave Little John,

And Midge, the miller's son,

Which made the young man bend his bow, When as he saw them come.

"Stand off, stand off!" the young man said;
"What is your will with me?"
"You must come before our master straight,
Under yon greenwood tree."

And when he came bold Robin before,
Robin asked him courteously,
"Oh, hast thou any money to spare
For my merry men and me?"
"I have no money," the young man said,
"But five shillings and a ring;

And that I have kept this seven long years,
To have it at my wedding.

"Yesterday I should have married a maid,
But she soon from me was ta'en,
And chosen to be an old knight's delight,
Whereby my poor heart is slain."

"What is thy name?" then said Robin Hood;
"Come, tell me without any fail."

"By the faith of my body," then said the young

man,

"My name it is Allin-a-Dale."

"What wilt thou give me," said Robin Hood,

"In ready gold or fee,

"What hast thou here?" the bishop then said; "I prithee now tell unto me."

"I am a bold harper," quoth Robin Hood, "And the best in the north countree." "O welcome, O welcome!" the bishop he said, "That music best pleaseth me."

"You shall have no music," quoth Robin Hood, "Till the bride and the bridegroom I see." With that came in a wealthy knight,

Which was both grave and old;

And after him a finikin lass

Did shine like the glistering gold.

"This is not a fit match," quoth bold Robin Hood, "That you do seem to make here;

For since we are come into the church,

The bride shall choose her own dear."
Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,
And blew blasts two or three,

When four-and-twenty bowmen bold
Came leaping o'er the lea.

And when they came into the church-yard,

Marching all in a row,

The very first man was Allin-a-Dale
To give bold Robin his bow.

"This is thy true love," Robin he said, "Young Allin, as I hear say;

And you shall be married at this same time,

Before we depart away."

"That shall not be," the bishop he said,

"For thy word shall not stand;

They shall be three times asked in the church,

As the law is of our land.”

Robin Hood pulled off the bishop's coat,

And put it on Little John:

When Little John went into the quire
The people began to laugh;

He asked them seven times in the church,
Lest three times should not be enough.
"Who gives me this maid?" said Little John.
Quoth Robin Hood, "That do I;

And he that takes her from Allin-a-Dale,

Full dearly he shall her buy."

And thus having end of this merry wedding, The bride looked like a queen;

And so they returned to the merry greenwood, Amongst the leaves so green.

WALY, WALY.

ANONYMOUS.

First published as an old song in Allan Ramsay's "Tea-Table Miscellany," in 1724. Part of it (by Robert Chambers all of it) has been pieced into a later ballad on the Marchioness of Douglass; married 1670, and deserted by her husband.

Oh waly, waly,' up the bank,

Oh waly, waly, doun the brae,"
And waly, waly, yon burn-side,3

Where I and my love were wont to gae!

I leaned my back unto an aik,

I thocht it was a trustie tree,
But first it bowed, and syne it brak',-
And sae did my fause love to me.

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,

Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,
"Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;
But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
When we cam' in by Glas-gow toun,

We were a comely sicht to see;
My love was clad in the black velvet,
An' I mysel' in cramasie.1

But had I wist, before I kissed,

That love had been so ill to win,
I'd locked my heart in a case o' goud,
And pinned it wi' a siller pin.

Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee;
And I mysel' were deid and gone,
And the green grass growing over me!

EDWARD.

ANONYMOUS.

This remarkable little dramatic ballad was first printed in Percy's "Reliques," from a manuscript transmitted by Lord Hailes. There are several versions, and a good German translation of it by Herder.

"Why does your brand sae drap wi' blude,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your brand sae drap wi' blude,
And why sae sad gang ye, O?"

"Oh, I ha'e killed my hawk sae gude,
Mither, mither:

Oh, I ha'e killed my hawk sae gude,
And I ha'e nae mair but he, O."

"What penance will ye dree for that, Edward, Edward?

What penance will ye dree for that? My dear son, now tell me, O." "I'll set my feet in yonder boat, Mither, mither:

I'll set my feet in yonder boat,

And I'll fare o'er the sea, O."

"And what will ye do wi' your towers and ha', Edward, Edward?

And what will ye do wi' your towers and ha', That were sae fair to see, O ?"

"I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
Mither, mither:

I'll let them stand till they donn fa';
For here I mauuna be, O."

83

"And what will ye leave to your bairns and wife, Edward, Edward?

And what will ye leave to your bairns and wife,
When ye gang o'er the sea, O ?"
"The warld's room: let them beg through life,
Mither, mither:

The warld's room: let them beg through life;
For them I ne'er maun see, O."

"And what will ye leave to your mither dear,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your mither dear?
My dear son, now tell me, O."

"The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,
Mither, mither:
The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,-
Sic counsels ye gied me, O!"

LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG. ANONYMOUS (1570).

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.
Love that is too hot and strong
Burneth soon to waste.
Still I would not have thee cold,
Not too backward or too bold;
Love that lasteth till 'tis old
Fadeth not in haste.

If thou lovest me too much,
"Twill not prove as true as touch;
Love me little, more than such,
For I fear the end.

I'm with little well content, And a little from thee sent

Is enough, with true intent,

To be steadfast friend.

Say thou lov'st me while thou live,
I to thee my love will give,
Never dreaming to deceive

While that life endures:

Nay, and after death, in sooth,
I to thee will keep my truth
As now, in my May of youth,

This my love assures.

Constant love is moderate ever,
And it will through life perséver;
Give me that, with true endeavor
I will it restore;

A suit of durance let it be
For all weathers; that for me,
For the land or for the sea,

Lasting everinore.

Winter's cold or Summer's heat, Autumn's tempests on it beat, It can never know defeat,

Never can rebel:

Such the love that I would gain, Such the love, I tell thee plain, Thou must give, or woo in vainSo to thee farewell!

LINES WRITTEN BY ONE IN THE TOWER, BEING YOUNG, AND CONDEMNED TO DIE.

CHIDIOCK TYCHBORN.

Chidiock Tychborn, the author of these lines, shared in Babington's conspiracy, and was executed with him in 1586. For more about him, see an article in D'Israeli's "Curiosities of Literature."

My prime of youth is but a frost of cares;
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain;

My crop of corn is but a field of tares;
And all my good is but vain hope of gain :
The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun;
And now I live, and now my life is done.

The spring is past, and yet it hath not spruug; The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green; My youth is gone, and yet I am but young;

I saw the world, and yet I was not seen: My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun; And now I live, and now my life is done.

I sought my death, and found it in the womb; I looked at life, and saw it was a shade;

I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb; And now I die, and now I am but made: The glass is full, and now my glass is run; And now I live, and now my life is done.