Fair Margarets Misfortunes;
OR,
Sweet Williams Dream on his Wedding Night
With the sudden Death and Burial of those noble Lovers.
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AS it fell out upon a day,
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Two lovers they set on a hill;
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They set together a long summer's day,
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And could not take their fill.
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I see no harm by you Margaret,
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And you see none by me;
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Before to-morrow at eight o'clock
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A rich wedding you shall see.
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Fair Margaret set in her bower window,
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A combing of her hair;
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And there she espy'd Sweet William and bride,
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As they were a riding near.
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Down she laid her ivory comb,
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And up she bound her hair;
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She went away forth from the bower,
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But never more came there.
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When day was gone, and night was come
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And all men fast asleep,
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There came the spirit of fair Margaret,
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And stood at William's bed-feet.
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God give you Joy you true lovers,
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In bride-bed fast asleep;
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Lo! I am going to my green-grass Grove,
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And I am in my winding-sheet.
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When day was come, and night was gone
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And all men wak'd from sleep;
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Sweet William to his Lady said,
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My dear I've cause to weep.
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I dream'd a dream, my dear lady,
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Such dreams are never good;
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I dream'd thy bower was full of red swine
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And my bride-bed full of blood.
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Such dreams, such dreams my honour-ed Sir,
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They never do prove good;
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To dream thy bower was full of swine,
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And thy bride-bed full of blood.
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He called his merry men all,
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By one, by two, and by three;
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Saying, I'll away to Fair Margaret's Bower,
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By the leave of my Lady.
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And when he came to Fair Margaret's Bower,
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He knocked at the ring;
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So ready were her Seven Brethren
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To let Sweet William in.
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The he turn'd up the covering sheet,
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Pray let me see the dead,
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Methinks she looks both pale and van,
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She has lost her cherry red.
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I'll do no more for thee Margaret,
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Than any of thy kin;
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For I will kiss thy pale van lips,
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Tho' a smile I cannot win.
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With that bespoke the seven brethren,
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Making most piteous moan,
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You may go kiss your jolly brown dame,
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And let our sister alone.
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If I do kiss my jolly brown dame,
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I do but what is right;
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For I made no vow to your sister dear,
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By day nor yet by night.
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Pray tell me then how much you'll deal,
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Of white bread and your wine?
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So much as is dealt at her Funeral To-day,
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To morrow shall be dealt at mine.
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Fair Margaret dy'd To-day, To-day,
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Sweet William he dy'd the morrow;
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Fair Margaret dy'd for pure true-love,
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Sweet William he dy'd for sorrow.
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Margaret was bury'd in the Lower Chancel,
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And William in the higher;
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Out of her breast there sprang a Rose,
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And out of his a briar.
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They grew as high as the church top,
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they could grow no higher;
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And there they grew in a True Lover's Knot,
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That made all people admire.
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Then came the clerk of the parish,
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As you this truth shall hear,
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And by misfortune cut them down,
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Or they had now been there.
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