The Oxfordshire Tragedy:
Or, The Virgins Advice.
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PART II.
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YOung virgins fair, of beauty bright,
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And you that are of Cupids fold:
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Unto my tragedy give ear,
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For tis as true as eer was told.
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In Oxfordshire, a lady fair,
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The daughter of a worthy Knight,
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A gentleman that livd near,
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Was enamourd of this beauty bright.
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Rosanna was this maidens name,
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The flower of fair Oxfordshire;
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This gentleman a courting came,
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Begging of her to be his dear,
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Her kind heart to love inclind,
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Young Cupid bending of his bow,
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And left a fatal dart behind,
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That provd her fatal overthrow.
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Within a pleasant grove they walkd,
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And valleys where the lambs do play;
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Sweet pleasant tales of love they talkd,
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For to pass the long summers day.
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My charming sweet rose, said he,,
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See how the pleasant flowers spring;
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The pretty birds on every tree,
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With melody the groves did ring.
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I nothing have to please or delight
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My soul, but those charms of thine;
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Our heart are fixed, therefore my dear,
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Like turtles let us both combine,
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Let me embrace my hearts delight
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Within this pleasant bower here;
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This bank of violets for my bed,
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Shaded with those roses fair.
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She said, What do you mean, I pray?
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I am a noble lady born.
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What signifies my beauty bright,
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When my honour it is gone?
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My parents they will me disdain,
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And young virgins me deride,
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O do not prove my overthrow,
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If you love stay till Im your bride.
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Sweet angel dear, I do vow,
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By all the powers so divine
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You are she whom I adore,
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And in love my heart confine.
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And if thou dost me refuse
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This sword must soon end my woe;
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Them from her arms he straitway flew,
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And in his passion his sword drew.
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Her hands as white as lillies fair,
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Most dreadfully she did wring;
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She said, My deaths approaching near,
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Should I relieve and succour him
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It brings on my sad fall,
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Tis I must receive the wound,
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The crimson dye forsook her cheeks,
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At his feet she droppd on the ground.
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This innocent he did betray,
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Full sore against her chaste desire,
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True love is a celestial flame,
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But flames of lust a raging fire,
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But when her senses did revive.
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He many vows and oaths did make,
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That hed for ever true remain,
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And her company not forsake.
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PART II.
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NOW virgins to the second part,
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Observe this sweet creatures end,
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When once your virtue it is gone,
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Youve nothing you to recommend.
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After our traitor had his will,
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He never did come near her more;
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Then from her eyes both night and day,
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The crystal tears did pour.
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In the silent grove she then
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Did wander quite alone;
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And for the creature she had lost
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In the said bower thus would moan.
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Oh that I was some little bird,
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That I might fly to hide this shame;
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O foolish maid, thus to believe
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The base delusion of a man.
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The harmless lamb could sport and play,
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The turtle constant to his mate;
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Nothing more wretched is then I,
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To buy the man that doth me hate,
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I will to him a letter send,
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Remembering of the vows he made
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Within that shady bower, where
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My tender heart he first betrayd.
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Her trembling hands a letter wrote,
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My dearest dear, what must I do;
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Alas! what mischief have I done,
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That I am slighted so by you.
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I have slighted many lords of fame,
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Who little knows my misery,
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I did forsake a worthy knight,
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And all for the sake of thee.
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And now my little infant dear
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Will quickly spread abroad my shame.
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One word of comfort send to me
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Ere by thy cruelty I am slain
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This answer to her he did send,
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Your insolence amazes me,
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To think that I should marry one,
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With whom before I had been free.
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Indeed Ill not the father be
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Unto the bastard that you bear;
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So take no farther thoughts of me.
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No more from you pray let me hear.
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When she this letter did receive,
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She rung her hands and wept fullsore,
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Yet every day she still would range
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To lament within that bower.
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This faithless wretch began to think,
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How noble were her parents dear;
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She said I sure shall punishd be
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When they my story come to hear,
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So then the devil did begin
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To enter in his wretched mind;
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Her precious life he then must have,
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Then how to act the thing did find.
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He many times did watch her out
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Unto the pleasant bower, where
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One day he did in private go,
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When he knew she was not there,
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And privately he dug her grave
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Underneath an oaken tree;
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Then in the branches he did hide,
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To act this bloody tragedy,
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Poor harmless soul she nothing knew,
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But as usual she went there;
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And on a bank of violtes she
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In a mournful manner did sit down.
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Of his unkindness did complain,
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You gentle gods so kind, said she,
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Did you this grave for me prepare,
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He then descended from the tree.
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As she the grave did spy,
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She then arose to view the same:
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She little thought her lover there:
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He said, Strumpet, thy death is near.
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O! welcome, welcome, she replyd,
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As long as by that hand I die.
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This is a pleasant marriage-bed.
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Iam ready: Use your cruelty:
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But may the heavens bring to light
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This crime, and let it thus appear:
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Winter or summer on this grave,
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May this rose be the same
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Never to wither, tho its cropt,
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But when thy hand doth touch the same,
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Then may the bloom that moment cease,
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To bring thy crime to sham.
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More she said, but with his sword
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He peicd her body thro
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Then throwd her body in the; silent grave
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Saying, Now theres end of you
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He filled up the grave again,
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With weeds the same did overspread,
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Then unconcernd he strait went home,
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And instantly he went to be d.
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Her parents were grieved sore
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For the loss of their daughter dear;
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Thinknig that she was stole away,
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Who was to their riches heir
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Twelve mounths ago this was done,
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Theres thousands for a truth do know,
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Accordingly as she did desire,
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On her the damask rose did grow.
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And many wondered at the same,
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For all the winter it did spring:
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If any one did crop the rose,
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In a moment it would grow again.
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The thing was told the country oer,
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And many came this sight to see;
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This miracle from heaven shewn,
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Among the rest he must curious be.
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To go and see if it was true.
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And when unto the place he came,
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The beauteous rose he saw in bloom,
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And eagerly he cropt the same.
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The leaves faded from oft the bush
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The rose within his hand did die:
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He said, It is Rosannas blood,
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Which springs up from her fair body.
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Many people that were there
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Took notice of what he did say:
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And said he had a murder done,
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And the truth he told without delay.
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They dug and found the body there,
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The first of June it is well known:
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Before a magistrate he went,
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And in a prison be doth mourn,
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Till he punishment receives,
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No doubt but he will have his due.
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Young men by this a warning take,
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Keep your vows whateer you do.
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For God doth find out many ways,
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Such henious crimes to bring to light;
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For murder is a crying sin,
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And hateful in his blessed sight.
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