And seeing him a handsome youth,
He took him for his page in truth.
In this same place he pleas'd so well,
That above all he bore the bell,
And so well his lord did please,
He made him higher by degrees.

He made him butler indeed,

And then chief steward was with speed,
Which made the other servants spite,
And envy him, both day and night
He ne'er was false in his trust,
But proved ever true and just,
And to the Lord did hourly pray,
To guard him still both night and day.

In this same place it doth appear, He lived the space of seven years, And oft his parents thought upon, And of his promise to return. Then humbly of his lord did crave, That he his free consent might have, For to go and see his parents dear, Whom he had not seen for many years.

So having leave away he went Not dreaming of the base intent, Which was contriv'd against him then, By wicked, false, malicious men ;

Who had in his portmanteau put
Their noble lord's fine golden cup.
And when the lord at dinner was
He miss'd the cup, as it came to pass.

Where should it be? the lord did say, We had it here but yesterday; The butler then reply'd with speed, If you would know the truth indeed, Your faithful Steward that is gone, With feather'd nest away is flown; I do believe he has that and more, Which does belong unto your store.

No, said the lord, that cannot be,
For I have try'd his honesty ;
Then said the cook, my lord I'll die
Upon a tree that's nine feet high.
He hearing what this man did say,
Did send a messenger that day,
To take him with a hue and cry,
And bring him back immediately.

They search'd his portmanteau indeed, In which they found the cup with speed, Then he was struck with sad surprize, And scarcely could believe his eyes; The lord then said unto him strait, Thou shalt be hanged at my gate,

Because in you I put my trust,
And I took you for nought but just.

Part IV.

The day was fix'd, and being come Said he, O Lord, it was my doom; Though innocent, I do declare How my Lord's cup came to be there. What fate decrees none can deny, I was adjudged thus to die, Upon a fatal gallows tree,

Which my Godfather did foresee.

In travailing pains my mother was, Into the world I came at last, A gentleman with skill did show, Such death I now am coming to: A chain and cabinet he gave Unto my father, which I have, The manuscript which was therein Did show me plain I should be hang'd.

So the lord hearing him say so,
It came into his mind then to
Keep him from off the gallows high,
For I think this man is not guilty.
Something I doubt there is in this,
Methinks it is with mere malice

Of the cook, and the butler too,
And if so, I'll make them rue.

The cause he tries a second time, And found them guilty of the crime; They were adjudg'd to be hang'd strait, Indeed they did deserve their fate. The lord he took him, and did say, Have you that cabinet, I pray; Yes, noble Lord, this is the same, Was left me, with this very chain.

My daughter is a virgin bright, And you shall have her this very night; Wherefore now take delight in her, 'Tis I who am your Godfather.

Here's twenty thousand pounds in gold, And when I'm dead it shall be told. You shall enjoy my whole estate,

For to make you both rich and great.

SONG II.

THE BARNARDCASTLE TRAGEDY.

Shewing how one John Atkinson, of Murton near Appleby, servant to Thomas Howson, miller, at Barnardcastle Bridge-end, courted the said Howson's sister; and after he had gained her entire affection by his wheedling solicitations, left her disconsolate, and made courtship to another, whom he married by the treacherous advice of one Thomas Skelton, who to save the priest's fees, &c. performed the ceremony himself; and upon her hearing the news, broke her heart, and bled to death on the spot. This being both true and tragical, 'tis hop'd 'twill be a warning to all lovers.

Tune of Constant Anthony.

YOUNG men and maidens all, I pray you now attend,
Mark well this tragedy which you find here penn'd,
At Barnardcastle Bridge-end, an honest man lives there,
His calling grinding corn, for which few can compare.

He had a sister dear, in whom he took delight,
And Atkinson, his man, woo'd her both day and night;
Till thro' process of time he chain'd fast her heart,
Which prov'd her overthrow, by Death's surprising
dart.