When she came till the chalmer

in, Down the bairns' cheeks the tears

did rin.

She buskit the tane, and she brushed

it there; She kem'd and plaited the tither's


Being a true relation of the inhuman murder of two children of a deceased gentleman in Norfolk. England, whom he left to the care of his brother, but the wicked mele, in order to get the children's estate, contrived to have them estroved by two ruutians whom he hired for that purpose; with an account of the heavy judgments of God, which befell him, for this inhuman deed, and of the timely end of the two bloody rutas. To which is added a word of advice to executors, &c.

Till her eldest dochter syne said

she, "Ye bid Child Dyring come here to


Now ponder well, you parents dear,

These words which I do write; A doleful story you shall hear,

In time, brought forth to light.

When he cam till the chalmer in, Wi' angry mood she said to him;

“I left you routh o' ale and bread; My bairnes quail for hunger and


A gentleman of good account

In Norfolk lived of late,
Whose fame and credit did sur-

Most men of his estate.

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“ To God and you I do commend

My children night and day: A little while be sure we have

Within this world to stay.

Away then went these pretty babes,

Rejoicing at the tide,
And smiling with a merry mind,

They on cock-horse should ride.

“You must be father, mother both,

" And uncle, all in one; God knows what will become of them

When I am dead and gone."

With that bespoke the mother dear,

“O brother kind!" quoth she, “ You are the man must bring my

babes To wealth or misery.

They prate and pratile pleasantly

As they rode on the way, Tothem that should their butchers be,

And work their lives' decay. So that the pretty speech they had

Made murderers' hearts relent; And they that took the deed to do,

Full sore they did repent. Yet one of them, more hard of heart,

Did yow to do his charge, Because the wretch that liired him

Had paid him very large. The other would not agree thereto,

So here they fell in strife: With one another they did fight

About the children's life.

“If you do keep them carefully,

Then God will you reward : If otherwise you seem to deal,

God will your deeds regard."

With lips as cold as any stone,

She kissed her children small; “God bless you both, my children

dear!" With that the tears did fall.

And he that was of mildest mood

Did slay the other there, Within an unfrequented wood,

Where babes do quake for fear.

These speeches then the brother

spoke To the sick couple there; The keeping of your children dear,

Sweet sister, never fear.

He took the children by the hand,

When tears stood in their eye, And bid them come, and go with

And see they did not cry.

“God never prosper me nor mine,

Nor aught else that I have, If I do wrong your children dear,

When you're laid in the grave.”

And two long miles lieled them thus,

While they for bread complain; “Stay here," quoth he: "I'll bring

The parents being dead and gone,

The children home he takes, And brings them home unto his house,

And much of them he makes.

you bread

When I do come again.”

He had not kept these pretty babes

A twelvemonth and a day, But for their wealth he did devise

To make them both away.

These pretty babes, with hand in

hand, Went wandering up and down; But never more they saw the man

Approaching from the town. Their pretty lips with blackberries

Were all besmeared and dred; But, when they saw the darksome

They sat them down and cried.

He bargained with two ruffians rude,

Who were of furious mood,
That they should take these children

And slay them in a wood;

And told his wife and all he had,

He did those children send, To be brought up in fair London, With one that was his friend.

Thus wandered these two little babes,

Till death did end their grief: In one another's arms they died,

As babes wanting relief,

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She knew it by the falconer's words, And from the look of the falconer's

eye; And from the love which was in her

soul For her youthful Romilly.

She weeps not for the wedding-day
Which was to be to-morrow:
Her hope was a farther-looking hope,
And hers is a mother's sorrow.

– Young Romilly through Barden

Woods Is ranging high and low; And holds a greyhound in a leash, To let slip up on buck or doe.

The pair have reached that fearful

How tempting to bestride!
For lordly Wharf is there pent in
With rocks on either side.

He was a tree that stood alone,
And proudly did its branches ware:
And the root of this delightful tree
Was in her husband's grave!
Long, long in darkness did she sit,
And her first words were, · Let

there be
In Bolton, on the field of Wharf,
A stately Priory!”
The stately Priory was reared ;
And Wharf, as he moved along,
To matins joined a mournful voice,
Nor failed at evensong.
And the lady prayed in heaviness
That looked not for relief!
But slowly did her succor come,
And a patience to her grief.
Oh! there is never sorrow of heart
That shall lack a timely end,
If but to God we turn and ask
Of Him to be our friend!


This striding-place is called “the

Strid, A name which it took of yore: A thousand years hath it borne that

nanie, And shall, a thousand more.

And hither is young Romilly come,
And what may now forbid
That he, perhaps for the hundredth

Shall bound across the Strid" ?

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The swannerds where their sedges

The flights of mews and peewits pied,

By millions crouched on the old

sea wall.


Moved on in sunset's golden breath, The shepherde lads I heard afarre,

And my some's wife, Elizabeth; Till floating o'er the grassy sea Came downe that kyndly inessage

free, The “Brides of Mavis Enderby.”

I sat and spun within the doore,
My threail brake off, I raised myne

The level sun, like ruddy ore,

Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wall

My some's faire wife, Elizabeth.

“Cucha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
Ere the early dews were falling,
Farre away I heard her song.
* Cusha! Cusha!" all along;
Where the reedy Lindis flowetli,

Floweth, floweth,
From the meads where melick

groweth Faintly came her milking song. “ Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, “For the dews will soone be falling; Leave you meadow grasses mellow,

Mellow, mellow;
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yel-

Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe

Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,

Hollow, hollow;
Come upp? Jetty, rise and follow,
From the clover's lift your head;
Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe

Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow,

Jetty, to the milking shed.”
If it be long, aye, long ago,

When I begime to think howe long, Againe I hear the Linelis flow, Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and

strong; And all the aire it seemeth mee Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee), That ring the tune of Enderby.

Then some looked uppe into the

sky, And all along where Lindis flows To where the gooilly vessels lie, And where the lordly steeple

shows. They sayde, “ And why should this

thing be, What danger lowers by land or sea ? They ring the tune of Enderby! “For evil news from Mablethorpe,

Of pyrate galleys Warping down; For shippes ashore beyond the

scorpe, They have not spared to wake the

towne; But while the west bin red to see, And storms be none, and pyrates

flee, Why ring 'The Brides of Ender


I looked without, and lo! my sonne Came riding downe with might

and main. He raised a shout as he drew on,

Till all the welkin rang again, 6 Elizabeth! Elizabeth!!! (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath Than my sonne's wife, Elizabeth.) “The olde sea wall (he cried) is

downe, The rising tide comes on apace, And boats adrift in yonder towne

Go sailing uppe the market-place.' IIe shook as one that looks on death: ** God save you, mother!” straight

he saith; “Where is my wife, Elizabeth?” “Good sonne, where Lindis winds

away With her two bairns I marked her

long; And ere yon bells begane to play,

Afar I heard her milking song.'

Alle fresh the level pasture lay,

And not a shadowe mote be seene, Save where full fyve good miles away The steeple towered from out the

greene; And lo! the great bell farre and wide Was heard in all the country side That Saturday at eventide.

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