Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Charms of melody, or, Siren medley

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OLD -BALLADS,
Fair Margaret and Sweet William.
AS it fell out upon a day,
Two lovers they fat on a hill ;
They fat together a long fummer day.
And could not talk their fill.
I fee no harm by you, Margaret,
And you fee none by me :
Before to-r.iorrow at eight o'clock
A rich wedding you fliall fee.
Jair 'Margaret fate in her bower-window,
A combing of her hair ;
There fhe efpied fweet William and his bride,
As they a were riding near.
Down fhe laid her ivory comb ,
And up fhe bound her hair ;
She went away firft from the bower,
But never more came there.
When day was gone, and night was come.
And all was faft afleep,
Then came the fplrit ot fair Margaret,
And flood at William's bed feet.
God give you joy, you true lovera.
In bride-bed fall afleep ;
Lo! I am going to my grafs-gieen grave,
And I am in my winding fheet.
Vi hen day was come, and night was gone,
And all men wal;'d from fleep,
Sweet William to his lady faid,
My (har, I've caufe to weep.
I dream'd a dream, my dear lady.
Such dreams are never good :
I dream'd my bower was full of red fvvine,
And my bride-bed full of blood.
Such dreams, fuch dreams, my honour'd fir,
They never do prove good ;
To dream thy bower was full of fwine,
And thy bride-bed full of blood.
He called his merry men all,
" By one, by two, and by three ;
Saying, " I'll away to fair Margaret's bower,
" By the leave of- my lady."
And when he came to fair Margaret's bower.
He knocked at the ring •,
So ready were her feven brethren
To let fweet William in.
Then he turn'd up the covering fheet —
" Pray let me fee the dead ; ,
" Methinks fhe looks both pale and wan,
" She has loft her cherry red.
" I'll do more for thee, Margaret,
" Than any of thy kin ;
" For I will kifs thy pale wan lips,
" Though a fmile I cannot win."
With that befpoke the feven brethren.
Making moft piteous moan,
" You may go kils your jolly brown dame,
" And let our fifter alone."
" If I do kifs my jolly brown dame,
" I do but what is right ;
" For I made no vow to your fifter dear,
" By day, nor yet by night.
" Pray tell me then, how much you'll deal,
" Of white bread and your wine :
" So much as is dealt at her lun'ral to-day,
" To-morrow fhall be dealt at mine."
Fair Margaret died to-day, to day.
Sweet William he died the morrow;
Fair Margaret died for pure true love,
Sv.'cet V/illiam he died for forro'ft'.
Margaret was buried in the lower chancel,
And William in the higher ;
Cut of her brcaft there fprang a rofe.
And cut of his a briar.
They grew as high as the church-top.
Till they could grow no higher ;
And there they grew in a true-lover's-knot.
Which made all the people admire.
Then came the clerk of the parifh,
As you this truth fhall hear,
And by misfortune cut them down.
Or they had now been there.
Old Tom of Bedlam.
FORTH from my dark and difmal cell.
And from the deep ab3''fs of hell.
Mad Tom is come to view the world again,
And fee if he can cure his diliempei'd brain.
Fears and cares opprefs my foul :
Hark, how the angry furies howl !
Pluto laughs, and Proferpine is glad.
To fee poor naked Tom of Bedlam mad.
Through the world I wander night and dav
To feek my flraggling fenfes,
In an angry mood I met old Time,
With his pentatuch of tenfes ;
When me he fpied,
Away he hied,
For time will flay for no man :
In vain with cries
I rend thfe fkies.
For pity is not common.
Cold and comforlefs I lie :
Help, oh help I or elfe I die !
Kark ! I hear Apollo's team.e,
The carman 'gins to whiftle;
Chafte Diana bends her bow.
The bear begins to briftle.
Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackles.
To knock off my troublefom fhackles •,
Bid Charles make ready his Waine'
To fetch- me my fenfes again.
Laft night I heard the dog-ftar bark ; .
Mars met with Venus in the dark;
Limping Vulcan heat an iron bar.
And furioufly made at the god of war :
Mars with his weapon laid about,
But Vulcan's temples had the gout,
For his broad horns hang fo much in his light,
He could not fee to aim his blov.-s aright :
Mercury the nimble poft of heaven,
Stood ftill to fee the quarrell •,
Gorrel-bellied Bacchus, giant-like,
Beftrid a ftrong-beer barrel.
To me he drank, '
I did him thank.
But I could get no cyder ;
He drank whole butts
Till he burft his guts.
But mine were ne'er the wider.
Poor Tom is very dry :
A little drink for charity!
Hark, I hear Afleon's horn !
The huntfman whoop and hallow :
Ringwood, Royfter, Bowman, Jov.ler,
All in_the chafe to follow.
The man in the moon drinks claret.
Eats powder'd beef, turnip, and carret.
But a cup of old l\;alaga fack
Will fire the bufh at his back.