THE
GUERNSEY Garland.
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PART I.
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YOU Mortals all that deal unjust,
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Who use yourselves to filthy Lust,
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Be pleasd a while for to draw near,
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And listen to this ditty here.
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Which of a Nobleman I write,
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Who had a comely daughter bright,
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Aged fifteen, a comely Child,
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Who by her father was beguild.
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Her tender mother being dead,
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She by her father was tempted,
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With him to lie, and in so doing,
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At last is provd her utter Ruin.
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At last she provd with-child, and low,
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On finding of it out, she cryed O
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Father I am with-child by you,
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Alas, alas, what shall I do?
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If it is known I am with-child,
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My fortune is for ever spoild,
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Alas, alas, I am undone,
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To hide my shame where shall I run.
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Daughter, be not dissatisfyd,
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I will take care thy shame to hide:
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In Guernsey there I have a friend,
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To whom with speed I will thee send.
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And if the child should chance to live,
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Full forty pounds a year Ill give,
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To some who shall it own, he said,
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Hence to the Isle she was conveyd.
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In sorrow there in a short while,
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She was delivered of a child;
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This baby was a son we hear,
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Upon whose breast did plain appear
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These words at large, in letters blue,
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I am thy Son and Brother too:
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Which was astonishment to all
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Spectators both great and small.
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But none of them could say aright,
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The cause of this amazing sight,
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But the poor mother of the child,
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She knew the meaning all the while;
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But she like Mary for her part,
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Ponderd the same within her heart;
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Alas, when able, this young dame,
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Did take leave, and homeward came
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Again unto the British shore,
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But neer went to her father more;
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She lived with a Goldsmith in the Strand,
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A very aged Gentleman.
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She had two thousand pounds we hear,
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And boarded with them seven years,
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At last this Goldsmith and his wife
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By death deprived were of life.
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Having a son at mans estate,
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Endud with worldly riches great
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This damsel being boarded there,
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And of a charming beauty fair.
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Having a thousand pounds withal,
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This man in love with her did fall;
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And they in love so well agreed,
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That they were married with speed.
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And as the apple of his eye.
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He loved her most tenderly;
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So now Ill leave them for a while,
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With providence on them to smile.
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PART II.
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AND next some small enquiry make,
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What course of life her father takes,
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He sent to Guernsey for to know
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How things did with his daughter go.
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The answer was returnd, shes fled,
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At which he sighd and shook his head,
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Saying, O let that day be curst,
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In which, to satisfy my Lust,
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I robd my child of honour then,
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For which I was the worst of Men;
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What a wretch was I to be so vile,
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Of honour for to rob my child?
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All women-kind that do me meet
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Will stop me as I walk the street:
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Calling me bruitish beast; but I
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Am worse than brutes, by reason, why?
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Because the brutes do in their kind,
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I robd a lovely child of mine;
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To wrong her thus I am to blame,
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Thourt lost I fear to hide thy shame.
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Thourt gone into some cave to be,
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Where thou with grief will pine and die,
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As for the baby thou didst bear
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All by my villainy yet care.
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Of him I am resolvd to take;
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My whole state to him Ill make.
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This being done, then out of hand,
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With speed Ill quit my native land.
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And in some foreign wilderness
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My sorrow great I will express,
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With weeping eyes, and tears great flood,
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Unto the harmless trees and birds.
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Where warbling birds do strain their throars
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Singing out their warbling notes,
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Most sweet and lovely to the ear,
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But they need not their anger fear.
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O God! whose great all seeing eye,
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Can in great desarts me espy,
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Encompassed with sorrows round,
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He said my sins will cut me down.
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Like grass that withers and consumes,
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This shameful sin will be my doom,
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So in small time as we hear,
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To Guiney he his course did steer.
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There in an unfrequented wood,
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This man bcame a Lions food:
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Now since he has lost his breath,
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And come to an untimely death,
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Well leave him, and give you to know,
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How things did with his daughter go.
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PART III.
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HIS Son he by his father had,
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Grew up to be a comely lad,
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And in this island, as tis told,
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He tarried till sixteen years old,
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At last this youth as it is said,
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Resolved for to learn a trade.
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He came to London city where
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In a short time he prentice were
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Unto this Goldsmith and no other,
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Whose wife happend to be his Mother.
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But all his apprenticeship that while,
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She never knew he was her child.
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The last year of his service then,
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His Master dyd like other Men.
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He forced was by cruel death,
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For to resign his vital breath:
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This apprentice being tall,
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And of a pleasant look withal,
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His mistress fancyd him so well,
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That she till death with him could dwell,
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And according to Old Englands Laws,
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She to her apprentice joined was,
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And all the live-long wedding day,
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In mirth they past the time away;
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When night was come with free consent,
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To-bed this bride and bridegroom went,
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Taking their rest and sleep that night,
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But in the morning eer twas Light,
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As she her husbands Side lay by,
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Upon his breast she did espy
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The mark as I before told you,
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Whereby to her great grief she knew
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He was born of her own body,
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At which she wept most bitterly.
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Smiting her breast, she said, I find
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No womans sorrow like to mine.
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To hear her groans and dismal cries,
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It put her in a sad surprise.
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Saying, My dear pray let me know,
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The cause of your lamenting so;
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Alas I have cause enough she cries,
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With very grief my heart it lies
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Bleeding within my mournful breast,
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On earth we no more shall have test,
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My very souls opprest with care,
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My sorrows more than I can bear.
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O wretched man the cause of this,
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Neer think to taste of heavenly bliss:
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Hearing these words immediately,
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He straitway made her this reply.
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What harm have I pray to you shewn,
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As makes you make this piteous moan?
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Her answer was no harm at all:
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The things that makes my tears to fall
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And thus deprives me of my rest,
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It is the mark upon your breast?
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A wicked man, father of mine,
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Did overcome me once with wine;
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And having done this thing, then he
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Robbd me of my Virginity,
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Contrary to Gods holy Laws,
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You in my womb conceived was.
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I am the woman that bore you,
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Your Sister, Wife, and Mother too;
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O what uncommon thing is here,
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My wife to be my Mother dear.
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Her answer was, Tis so indeed,
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These thoughts does make my heart to bleed,
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This thing does all my glory blast,
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Of joyful days I have seen the last.
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No sort of succour will I have,
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But will go mourning to the grave,
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I fear that when my bodys dead,
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And under earth is covered,
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My poor distrest forsaken soul
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Will in the air be left to howl.
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So this past on a month or two,
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In great sorrow, grief, and woe.
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And with deep groans and panting heart,
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She with her precious life did part,
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Leaving her loving spouse behind,
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For her in floods of tears to pine.
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And thus in grief of soul, I say,
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Lord give me patience I thee pray;
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And that this may a warning be,
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To all that hear my destiny.
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Now to conclude, you women all,
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And likewise maidens great and small,
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Let this poor womans destiny,
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By you always lamented be.
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