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XXXV. A Tragical Ballad on the unfortunate Love of Lord Thomas and Fair Ellinor, together with the Downfal of the Brown Girl.

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Ord Thomas he was a bold Forrester,

And a Chafer of the King's Deer; Fair Ellinor was a fine Woman,

And Lord Thomas he loved her dear.

Come riddle my Riddle, dear Mother, he faid,

and riddle us both as one,

Whether I shall marry with fair Ellinor,

And let the Brown Girl alone?

The Brown Girl fhe has got Houses and Land,
And fair Ellinor she has got none,
Therefore I charge you on my Bleffing,
Bring me the Brown Girl Home.

As it befel on a high Holiday,
As many did more befide,

Lord Thomas he went to fair Ellinor,
That should have been his Bride.

But when he came to fair Ellinor's Bower,

He knocked there at the Ring,

But who was fo ready as fair Ellinor,

For to let Lord Thomas in.

What News, what News, Lord Thomas, fhe said,

What News haft thou brought unto me?

I am come to bid thee to my Wedding,
And that is bad News for thee.

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O God forbid, Lord Thomas, she said,
That such a thing should be done ;

I thought to have been thy Bride my own felf,
And you to have been the Bridegroom.

Come riddle my Riddle, dear Mother, she said, And riddle it all in one,

Whether I shall go to Lord Thomas's Wedding, Or whether I fhall tarry at home?

There are many that are your Friends, Daughter,
And many that are your Foe,
Therefore I charge you on my Bleffing,
To Lord Thomas's Wedding don't go.

There's many that are my Friends, Mother,
And if a thousand more were my Foe,
Betide my Life, betide my Death,

To Lord Thomas's Wedding I'll go.

She cloathed her felf in gallant Attire,
And her merry Men all in green,
And as they rid through every Town,
They took her to be fome Queen.

But when she came to Lord Thomas's Gate,
She knocked there at the Ring;
But who was fo ready as Lord Thomas,
To let fair Ellinor in.

Is this your Bride? Fair Ellinor faid,
Methinks fhe looks wonderful brown,
Thou might'st have had as fair a Woman,
As ever trod on the Ground.

Despise her not, fair Ellin, he faid,
Despise her not unto me:

For better I love thy little Finger,
Than all her whole Body.

This brown Bride had a little Penknife,
That was both long and sharp,

And betwixt the short Ribs and the long,
Prick'd fair Ellinor to the Heart.

O Christ now fave thee, Lord Thomas he said,
Methinks thou look'st wond'rous wan,
Thou us'd to look with as fresh a Colour,
As ever the Sun fhin'd on.

Oh, art thou blind! Lord Thomas, she said,
Or can't thou not very well fee?

Oh Doft thou not fee my own Heart's Blood
Run trickling down my Knee?

Lord Thomas he had a Sword by his Side,
As he walk'd about the Hall,

He cut off his Bride's Head from her Shoulders,
And threw it against the Wall.

He fet the Hilt against the Ground,
And the Point against his Heart;
There never were three Lovers met
That fooner did depart.

XXXVI. An

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To the Tune of, The Bride's Good-morrow.

Had I omitted this Story of Patient Griffel, I am afraid the Admirers of old Ballads would accufe me of overlooking one of our moft antique Songs. The firft Part is entirely written on the fame Subject as the Devonshire Nymph, Page 227, but which of the Stories is the best related, I shall leave my Readers to determine. I am afraid the Criticks will cavil at all and some, and fuch like Expreffions, which they'll be apt to fay might as well have been omitted. Another Objection they'll probably make is, that the Character of Griffel is out of Nature, and that fuch an Example of Patience never was. To the firft I answer, that it is a Maxim laid down by feveral, and in the last Place by Hudibras, that one Verfe for Senfe, and another for Rhyme is fufficient at once; and to vindicate our Poet from the other, it may naturally be supposed that he had unfortunately married a Shrew, and was willing to preach up the Doctrine of

Patience

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