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

176 BALLADS ANCIENT and modern, legendaries^ &c.
Her heart beat tliict at ev'ry noife.
Each ruftling thro' the wood,
And now, fte tvavers'd quick the ground,
And now ftie liftning flood.
Enlivening hope and chilling fear.
By turns her bofoni iliare,
And now, flie calls upon his name,
Now, weeps in fad defpair.
Mean time the day's laft glimm'ring fled.
And black'ning all the flcy,
A hideous tempeft dreadful rofe.
And thunders roU'd on high.
Poor Ethelinde, aghaft, difmay'd.
Beholds with dread affright
The threat'ning fWy, the lonely wood.
And horrors of the night.
" Where art thou now, my Edwin dear ?
" Thy friendly aid I want;
" Ah me ! my boding heart foretells
" That aid thou canft not grant."
Thus rack'd 'vnith pangs, and beat with itorms,
Confus'd and loft Ihe roves.
Now looks to heav'n with eager pray'r.
Now calls on him fhe Saves.
At length, a diftant taper's ray
Struck beaming on her fight.
Thro' brakes flie guides her fainting fteps
Towards the welcome light.
An aged hermit peaceful dwelt
In this fequefter'd wild ;
Calm goodnefs fat upon his brow,
His words were loft and mild.
He op'd his hofpitable door.
And much admiring view'd
The tender virgin's graceful form,
Dafh'd by the tempeft rude.
" Welcome, fair maid, whoe'er thou art,
" To this warm fhelter'd cell ;
" Here reft fecure thy wearied feet ;
" Here peace and fafety dwell."
He faw the heart-wrung ftarting tear,
And gently fought to know.
With kindeft pity's foothing looks,
The flory of her woe.
Scarce had fhe told her mournful tale,
When ftruck with dread they hear
Voices confus'd, with dying groans.
The call approaching near.
" Help, father, help," they loudly cry,
" A wretch here bleeds to death ;
•' Some cordial balfam quickly give,
" To ftay his parting breath."
All deadly pale they lay him down,
And gafli'd with many a wound.
When, woeful fight, 'twa s Edwin's felf
Lay bleeding on the ground.
With frantic grief, poor Ethelinde
Befide his body falls:
" Lift up thy eyes, my Edwin dear,
" 'Tis Ethelinde that calls."
That much-lov'd found recalls his life,
He lifts his clofing eyes.
And feebly murm'ring out her name,
He galps, he faints, he dies.
Stupid awhile, in dumb defpair.
She gaz'd on Edwin dead ;
JDim grew her eyes, her lips turn'd pale,
And life's warm fpirit fled.
Eafy John, the contented Cuckoldj
OR THE tANCASHlKE WITCHES.
AS I was fearching the records
Of ancient nobles, dukes and lords,
A pleafant jeft came to my fight,
The which I am refolv'd to write.
When queen Elizabeth did reign.
Her loving fubjefts did complain.
That witches had fo much encreas'd,
As did much harm to man and beaft ;
Efpecially in Lancafhire ; —
Which when our gracious queen did hear,
She fent her judges forth with fpeed
To try them for each wicked deed.
Old women with their lantern jaws,
Altho' they had no other caufe.
Were all arraign'd for witches them,
.For being threefcore years and ten.
In Lancafliire there liv'd a man,
Whom all folks called Eafy John ;
He had a little teat"* or two,
W hich underneath his arm-pit grew :
So, fearing that he was a wiich,
His loving wife he did befeech,
That (lie'd be plea^'d to let him go,
To lee if he was a witch o: no.
She gave confent ; he went his way,
And travell'dhard both night and day,
O'er hill and dale he weary pall.
Until he came to court at laft.
They made hirn room ; for why, they thought
He had fome information brought ;
" Speak up, good man,, and do not fear ;
" What you delire we will hear :"
" Full fourfcore miles and more I came,
" Until my feet are almoft.lame ;
"So pray tell me, before I go,
" If you think I'm a witch, or no."
The judges laughed heartily,
A^nd th' crier made him this reply,
" You are," faid he, and kick'd his breech,
" More like an old cuckold than a witch,"
- "I thank you all" the old man cry'd,
" Henceforth I Ihall reft fatisfy'd,
" Since I am no v.itch at all,
" But an old cuckold, and that is all.
" I'll home to honeft Joan, my wife,
" The joy and comfort of my life ;"
She met him with a merry cheer.
Crying, " your welcome home, my dedr :
" Pray what did thofe learn'd judges fay ;
" Are you a witch or no, I pray ?"
" As foon as e'er they faw my facQ,
" The told me in a little fpace,
" That I was no witch at all,
" But an old cuckold, and that was all."
" Sure, hufband, thefe learn'd judges are
" As bad as any witches here ; ,
" Or how could they fo cunning be,
" To know that I had cuckol'd thee?"
" Ah, wife, they may fay what they pleafe,
" Henceforth I'll fet my mind at eafe ;
" So bring me a jug of good ale, for why,
" I am no witch, and fo what care I ?"
* A Teat under the Arm was called a fVitch-fiap, and wai
held as a fure Mark that the Wearer was a Witch,