The Book of British Ballads

And now the heavy wrathe of God

Upon their uncle fell;

Yea, fearfull fiends did haunt his house,
His conscience felt an hell:

His barnes were fired, his goods consum'd,
His landes were barren made,
His cattle dyed within the field,
And nothing with him stayd.

And in the voyage of Portugal

Two of his sonnes did dye;
And to conclude, himself was brought
Into much miserye :

He pawn'd and mortgaged all his land
Ere seven years came about,
And now at length this wicked act
Did by this means come out :

The fellowe that did take in hand
These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judged to dye,
As was God's blessed will:
Who did confess the very truth,
To which is here exprest;
Their uncle dyed while he for debt
Did long in prison rest.

All you that be executors,
And overseers eke,
Of children that be fatherless,

And infants mild and meek; Take you example by this thing,

And yield to each his right, Lest God with such like miserye

Your wicked minds requite.

FAIR ROSAMOND.

HISTORIANS, minstrels, and ballad-makers have made the story of Fair Rosamond a favourite subject for their pens and songs. We cannot come at any correct account of that house of "wonderfull working," wherein her royal lover endeavoured to guard her from prying eyes. We know not precisely the manner in which the secret was discovered by Queen Eleanor, nor the means by which poor Rosamond was done to death. These may be, as they have been, subjects for learned controversy and fierce debate. But the ballad seizes the strong points of the story, and vividly por

trays her, fair, erring and unfortunate. She was, according to Stowe, the daughter of Walter, Lord Clifford; became the "lemman" of Henry the Second, to whom she bore two sons, William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, and Geoffrey, Bishop of Lincoln, and died at Woodstock, A. D. 1177. For our version, Mr. Hall has preferred the copy of this ballad in the Pepy's Library to that in the British Museum, making such alterations and restorations as he deemed fit. It was first published in London, early in the seventeenth century in "Strange Histories, or Songes and Sonets of Kinges, Princes, Lords, Ladyes, Knights, and Gentlemen, &c."

Why grieves my Rose, my sweetest Rose?' And therewithall he fetcht a sigh,

The king did often say,

'Because,' quoth shee, to bloodye warres

My lord must pass awaye.

As though his heart would breake: And Rosamond, for inward griefe,

Not one plaine worde could speake.

THE DEMON LOVER.

THE credit of bringing this ballad before the public is due to Sir Walter Scott. It was first published in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," having been communicated to Sir Walter by Mr. Laidlaw, by whom it was taken down from recitation. What alterations or improvements it received in passing through such hands cannot be known, but Scott's reverence for all relics of the olden time has at least ensured the preservation of its ancient garb. The legend contained in the ballad is current in Scotland under various shapes. But it is by no means peculiar to that country. England and Ireland have also their traditionary stories, wherein false maidens and unfaithful wives are carried off and destroyed by the ghosts of former lovers, or by demons in human shape.

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