The BRISTOL Garland.
In FOUR PARTS,
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PART I.
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A Merchants son of worthy fame.
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From the town of BRISTOL came,
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Unto a sweet and pleasant green,
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Where little girls are to be seen.
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Who usherd in the month of May,
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With flowry garlands fresh and gay.
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With music for to entertain
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The youthful charming rural plain.
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Amongst these youthful laidies bright,
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None did exceed for red or white
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Lucy, a shepherds daughter fair,
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She l[i]ke an angel did appear.
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The Merchants son, who never knew
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Before that time what love could do,
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Began to feel an inward flame
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So with these words to her he came:
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Thou charming beauty of the day,
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Who far exceeds the month of M[ay]
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And all the beauties of the plain,
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Do not my humble suit disdain.
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She answerd with a modest voice.
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Sir, youre mistaken in your choice,
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Dont set your heart and love on me,
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Who am one of a mean d[e]gree.
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But a poor shepherds daughter, Sir.
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With that he strait saluted her.
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He did these words to her express,
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My dear, I love you neertheless.
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How many men of worthy fame,
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[I]n former days, that I could name;
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Who made it their employ to keep
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Their mighty flock of lambs and sheep.
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Then let us to thy father go;
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And if hes willing to bestow
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His daughter to me Ill rejoice,
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And be well pleased with the choice.
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Accordingly she gave consent,
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And to her father straitway he went;
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Here he then treated long of love,
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And that he would right constant prove.
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The shephe[r]d made him this reply,
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Your suit I cannot well deny.
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But let me tell you, worthy sir,
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I nothing have to give with her.
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But if you love for loves desert,
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Then take her with all my heart:
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All parties then were soon agreed,
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So that they mar[r]ied were with speed.
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PART II.
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NOW the wedding rites being done?
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Beloved the wealthy merchants son
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To his dear parents brought his bride,
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Who were it seems dissatisfy'd.
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Because they understood that she
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Descended from a mean degree,
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And was not worthy to be made
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His bride, so they did her degrade.
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Then to their son in wrath they spoke,
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Saying How dard you thus provoke
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Your loving f[r]iend and parents dear?
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Oh! it will break our hearts we fear,
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He to his parents thus did say,
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Hear me a word or two I pray,
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She is my bride, my joy, and dear,
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Oh! do not break her heart with grief,
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Dear friends I cannot bear to hear.
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My wife, my love, my joy, my dear,
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Revild at such a rate as this,
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Alas! she has not done amiss.
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His parents said, since it must be so,
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Pray take your jewel now and go
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Out of doors, our hands well clear,
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You shall not think to harbour here.
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Be gone, I say, depart the house,
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Ill give you not one single souce
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Not anything alive or dead.
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Altho you starve for want of bread,
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Said he, Tis very hard indeed,
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That in the greatest time and need,
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Youll not relieve nor help your son,
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So now farewell, you will be done.
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Returning back with weeping eyes,
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With bitter sobs and mournful cries
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Im grieved at the heart, said she,
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That I was born to ruin thee
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Let not such thoughts disturb thy mind
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Not sigh nor sobs, for thou shalt find
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Ill get my bread with pains and care,
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And my crosses with patience bear
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Be thou content, and all is well,
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Well with thy loving parents dwell,
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And in regard we have no land,
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Ill freely earn with my own hand.
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Ill freely go to plow and cart
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Ill freely earn with my whole heart
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As thy poor father he has done,
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Farewell the name of Merchants son.
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He did not only say, but behold,
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In summer hot, and winter cold.
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Hed reap and mow and till the earth,
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As if he came to it by his birth.
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PART III.
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BUT heres a wonder now at last,
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When eight years were gone & past,
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He did to mighty riches rise,
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And how it came none could devise.
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But thus it was we understand,
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He bought a little piece of land,
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On which their was some stump of trees
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The which he dug up by degrees.
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Upon a day by chance he found,
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When digging deep within the ground,
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A lusty pot with antient gold.
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As full as ever it coud hold.
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Tho he was lusty, stout and strong,
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He scarce could lug the same along
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For there was many a thousand pound,
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Which he by mighty fortune found,
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He purchased a vast estate,
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And in those parts appeared great,
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As any Knight of worthy fame,
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None knew as yet from whence it came
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While he grew rich, his parents they
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Reduced were to sad decay,
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By losses which they did substain,
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By land as well as ocean main.
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They owd a thousand pound and more,
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The cruel creditors therefore
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On all that eer they had then seizd
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Yet neertheless they were not pleasd.
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But would have his body too,
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So that for fear, alas, he flew
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And forced was to hide his head,
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While he and she wanted bread.
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PART. IV.
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NOW while they were in this distress,
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And nothing had wherewith to bless
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Themselves withal, glad tidings came
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Of their sons estate and wealthy fame,
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The woman to her husband cryd
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Lets to our son, he will provide
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A place for us, we need not fear,
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Why should we die and languish here.
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If he should do so good a deed,
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Now in our want and time of need,
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Tis more then we may expect,
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Remember how we did reflect
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On him and his beloved wife.
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And said in wrath, that during life
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By me they never should be fed
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Altho they starvd for want of bread.
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This was my fault this was my sin.
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How can I think hell take us in.
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Who did him throw quite out of door,
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And bid him see my face no more.
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But loving husband, you shall find
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Hes of a courteous heart and mind,
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And shall receive us both in love.
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Just as she said, so it did prove,
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For coming to his mansion-place,
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The son he thought it no disgrace
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To fall upon their bended knee,
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So d[i]d his wife as well as he.
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As from the[i]r knees they did arise;
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His parents dear with weeping eyes,
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Their grief and sorrow did relate,
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Who had been most unfortunate,
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Said he, most welcome parents dear,
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Unto my habitation here.
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Let not these tears or sorrow fall,,
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I have enough to serve us all.
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Father, your debts Ill freely pay
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The wor[l]d shall never have to say,
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That eer they lost a groat by you,
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So bid their sorrows quite adieu.
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Then did he feast and cloath them both
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And said, My parents, pray henceforth,
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In plenty live and take some ease,
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At home with me, or where you please.
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If here you are not free to live.
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One hundred pounds a year Ill give,
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If that wont serve you shall have two,
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God gave it me thus to serve you.
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Thus was he dutiful and kind,
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Now sons and daughters bear in mind
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How tender he was to his friends,
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And thus my mournful ditty ends.
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