XX.

The BITTER FRUITES of JEALOUSIE:

G

A Ballade.

OE, fhutte the doore, my Edwarde deere,
"Shutte close the doore, I praye;

"Lette nae keene fearche my treadinge trace,

"Ne liftene what I faie;

"Lette nane my fubtle entraunce knowe,

"My troubled motion fpie,

"Ne fmalleft funne-beame penetrate

"The tell-tale of mine eye."

So Alleyne fpake, as guilt-beftain'd
Some nooke he did explore,

When instincte ledde his pathleffe foote

To Edwarde's friendlie doore.

'Tween horrid dreede, and confcious fhame, Fu' mightie was the ftrife,

While from his now-enfeebled hands

Downe dropp'd a reekinge knife.

What

What means that steele? What means that glow,

Wherewith thy vifage burnes?

Now ghaftlie pale, alack, fucceeds,

And now the redde returnes.

"Saye, will yee, plighte your promise deere,

"And wille yee plighte your faye,

"That what I now entrufte to yee "Your tongue fshall ne'er betraye?

Yea, I wille plight my promise deere,
And I will plight my faye,
That what yee shall entruste to mee
My tongue shall ne'er betraye.

"Ah! was shee not the fairest faire, "More deere than life to mee?

"Yet ne'er fhall Į againe beholde "My Lucie fweete to fee."

Yea, she was fairest of the faire,

Deere as thy life to thee

And haft thou fcath'd with deadlie stroke

Thy Lucie fweete to see ?...

"Wae worthe the daye! That verie wreathe,

"Which with a lovinge vowe

"This morne I gave her, I behelde,

"Ere noone, on Edwin's brow.

"When as shee tooke it sweete fhee fmil'd, "Yet could fhee from it parte?

"Sae proude, methought, hee taunted mee, "Fu' deepe it irk'd my hearte.

"And irk'd be ftille this cruel hearte! -
"Oh! had yee feene the wounde,
"And had yee feene the streaminge blude,
"How faste it ftain'd the grounde!

"And had yee feene her fickninge eye, "How fore it foughte reliefe!

"And had yee feene her bodie finke, "You woulde have dyed for griefe !

"And irk'd be stille this cruel hearte,
"When as shee there did lye,
"That coulde not with my Lucie deere
"A moment ftaye, and dye !"

Alleyne, my friend, yee grieve my foule,
Your flighte, I weene, was juft,
Sine fhee is gone, that fairest faire,

And funken into duste.

But who alonge yon cypreffe-pathe

Is ledde fae heavilie ?

Ah! mee! my Alleyne deere, it is

How fadde fhee eyeth thee!

And,

And, ab! how fadde yon virgins looke,

Who leade her to my boure? Appear they not as drizlinge dewes, Freshninge fome faded floure?

With fuch a looke as mothers aft
Rebuke a darlinge childe,
Sae eyed fhee her Alleyne deere,
Sae ruthe, fae fweete, fae milde !

"I marvelle not," fhee faintlie cried, "Yee feeme a manne of stone !"The welle of life is nae yet drie, "My daies are nae yet done.

"Sette, fette your troubled minde at ease,
"My hearte yee didde nae touche;
"Yee ftrooke too fhorte to reache my life,
"Whereat I gladdene muche.

"Could yee, fuch vowes as I have vow'd, "Deeme I coulde faithleffe bee ?

"The bloffome to the breathe of springe "Was fcant fae true as mee.

"That wreathe, which yee this morne did fee Sae trimme on Edwyn's browe,

"Edwyn's ain fpitefu' hande had wroughte, "And Edwin weares it nowe.

"When love yee breathe, yee fickle menne

"Been fmoothe as fummer-wave; "But when with jealoufie yee swelle, "As winter-ftorme yee rave.

"Rashe manne! ah! how by jealousie
"Have yee your fortunes crofte !
"As true a maide as ever lov'd

"Yee have for ever lofte.

"To hie to this your

friend's abode,

"Here breathe my prayres for yee,

"For life, for healthe, for ease of minde, "Was a' was left for mee."

Can yee not pardon the high faulte
Which love didde gar mee doe?
"Yes, I canne pardon a' the faulte,
"And ftille to love be true."

And fhalle the bridal knotte be tyed,
And fhalle wee happie bee?

"The bridal-knotte canne ne'er be tyed,

"Ne canne I staye with thee;

"For I to Chrifte a vowe have made,

"And kepte that vowe fhalle bee,

"That manne naie mair fhalle vexe my hearte,

"Nae mair fhalle trouble mee.

"That