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CHILDREN IN THE WOOD,
When she came till the chalmer
in, Down the bairns' cheeks the tears
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,
“ 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,
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
“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.
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
He bargained with two ruffians rude,
Who were of furious mood,
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,
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
– 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
He was a tree that stood alone,
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,
The swannerds where their sedges
The flights of mews and peewits pied,
By millions crouched on the old
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,
Lay sinking in the barren skies; And dark against day's golden death She moved where Lindis wall
“Cucha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling,
groweth Faintly came her milking song. “ Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, “For the dews will soone be falling; Leave you meadow grasses mellow,
Jetty, to the milking shed.”
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.