The OXFORDSHIRE Garland.
In FOUR PARTS.
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CHarming ladies fair, I'll to you declare
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Such a ditty that will make you weep;
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If you will draw near the story you shall hear,
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And in your minds the subject do but keep.
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In Oxford city there lived, you shall hear,
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A nobleman who had a vast estate;
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And four daughters bright, in whom he took delight,
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But, alas! unhappy was their fate.
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The youngest, it is told, was of beauteous mould,
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The loveliest creature sure that e'er was seen:
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And her father dear loved her, we hear,
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And to make her great indeed did moan.
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Her mother being dead, her sisters, as 'tis said,
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They never could endure her beauty bright;
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Because her father he best respected her,
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So they sought her ruin day and night.
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A noble lord of fame down from London came,
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On purpose to see her father dear;
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Young Cupid's keen dart pierc'd him to the heart,
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As soon as he saw this lady fair.
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Presently he said, since I am betray'd,
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I to her will soon disclose my mind;
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And if she yields to love, by the powers above,
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I'm blest if my jewel does prove kind.
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In the garden fair among the flowers rare,
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He chanced to espy his charming dove;
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Cupid, be kind, said he, and wound her bitterly,
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That I can for ever keep my love.
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His mind he did declare: Beauteous lady fair,
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Since thou art a walking so retire;
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I must show my mind, if you are unkind,
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Quickly doth my life for you expire.
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With a graceful look then these words she spoke,
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Sir, my tender heart is yet unskill'd
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To know what love doth mean: if I forward seem
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Then it is against my father's will.
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Charmer dear, he said, if you'll be my bride,
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I have gold to deck those charms so bright.
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To make them mine so gay, like the queen of May,
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Maids to wait upon thee day and night.
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In a little time this charmer divine,
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She did yield indeed to be his bride;
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But in the second part 'twill pierce a harden'd heart
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To see how cruel fate did them divide.
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PART II.
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THE other sisters they to wickedness gave way,
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One of them with a most vicious eye
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Viewed this noble lord, and said, Upon my word,
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If I don't enjoy him I must die.
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Strait she took to her bed much discomforted,
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At last her sisters unto her did say,
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What is it grieves you so? prithee let us know,
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Then with weeping she soon did say,
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O that noble knight that courts our sister bright,
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He it is that causes all my woe.
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If I can't him enjoy this life I will destroy.
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Then to pierce her heart she strait did go.
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Her sisters thus did say, Fie, sister, fie, we pray,
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Do not to yourself be so severe.
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We'll tell him your mind, perhaps he'll be kind,
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Tho' our youngest sister is so fair.
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Then strait a letter penn'd, to the lord did send,
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For to let him know her love-sick mind;
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Having read the same, and found whence it came,
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Said, Who can know the heart of woman-kind.
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He sent an answer thus, Pardon me you must,
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For your sister is the only she
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That's mistress of my heart, from her I'll not part,
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So pray mention this no more to me.
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Soon as the letter came, and they read the same,
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Strait in a furious passion then they flew;
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We will revenged be, replied then all three,
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That is our sister who shall it rue.
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Her eldest sister she kept bad company,
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With a merchant of a vast estate;
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With him she did agree to send her over sea,
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Which to these lovers prov'd unfortunate.
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This young harmless dove, with her tender love,
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Had appointed married to be:
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Her father gave consent, to their great content,
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But now observe their great treachery.
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It happen'd on a day they unto her did say,
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Sister, will you go and take the air?
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She did consent to go, which prov'd her overthrow,
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For such a base thing never acted were.
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They brought this lady to the merchant we hear,
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As soon as he beheld her beauty bright,
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He stood like one amaz'd, and on her beauty gaz'd,
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Said, I'll have thee tho' I'm ruin'd by't.
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Down sat this lovely maid, her sister said,
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Now will you obey your father dear?
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Now you with us must go, whether you will or no,
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Or else we unto you must prove severe.
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Presently she said, Am I so betray'd?
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Then farewel to thee, my dearest love.
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If I should not you see, happy may you be,
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I ever constant unto thee will prove.
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In the third part, hear how this lady fair,
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By this cruel merchant was abus'd;
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Yet kept her constancy 'till she her love did see,
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Such constancy sure is seldom us'd.
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PART III.
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ON board a ship indeed she was sent with speed,
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When by her base sisters she was left indeed:
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She wrung her hands and said, Whatever betide,
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Constant will I be while I have breath.
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Close confin'd was she 'till they sail'd away,
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Then her liberty she granted were;
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The merchant for her sake could no comfort take,
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But he must enjoy this charming fair.
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Thus he broke his mind: Lovely maid, be kind,
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For it is so that none can us see:
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Let me but thee enjoy, so do not be coy;
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And back again I'll bring thee over sea.
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With a disdainful look these words she spoke,
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Cruel creature, do you think that I
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Am thus frighted to be, because upon the sea,
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I plainly show your lust I do defy.
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I trust the powers above that I my dearest love
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May once again behold his charming face.
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But if the fates decree that it must never be,
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I can never by a traitor be embrac'd.
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When the merchant see she would not agree,
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Then to satisfy his wicked mind,
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He us'd her cruelly, for confin'd was she,
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Thinking that way to make her kind.
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But that would not do, tho' hardships she went thro',
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Her prayers to Heaven she sent night and day,
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She might rescu'd be from his treachery,
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Good people, now observe her here, we pray.
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PART IV.
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THE ship, we hear, by distress of weather were
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Drove upon a rock, and split in twain;
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And all perish'd there except this lady fair,
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And a sailor who plowed on the main.
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On a plank of wood they plowed on the flood,
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These poor souls did swim, as we hear;
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Being toss'd mountains high, in this extremity,
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The plank was drove to land strait with them there.
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Being come to shore they prais'd the Lord,
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But, poor souls! knew not what to do for food.
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No living man was there, only the island bare,
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And piercing with cold, alas! they stood.
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Three nights and days these poor souls lay,
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With their frozen limbs upon the ground.
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The lady she did cry, for hunger I die,
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Unless some nourishment for me is found.
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The sailor said, Charming dearest maid,
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If my flesh your hunger would suffice,
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Pray take and eat your fill; I love a woman still.
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But once more to Heaven send your cries.
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As they were at prayer a ship did appear,
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Just discernable unto the eye:
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They went to the sea-side, the sailor he espy'd,
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And both aloud to them they cry'd.
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The boat put out with speed, and took them indeed,
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Strait before the captain they were brought.
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The lady did declare whose daughter she were.
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And how her sisters had her ruin sought.
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Great care was taken there of this lady fair,
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And the poor distressed sailor too.
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We'll leave them on the main, and return again,
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To see how things with her father did go.
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When first she missing were her father I declare,
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And her lover likewise made great moan,
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Lest she should murder'd be, also her sisters three
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Said, Alas! alas! where is she gone.
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They not mistrusted were by her father dear,
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But her lover he began to think
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That by their treachery she must murder'd be,
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When the letter they unto him sent.
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Then the old lord call'd his daughters three,
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As soon as they into his presence came
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They trembled every limb, and concerned seem'd.
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Then he strait did say unto them,
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Where's your sister, you've kill'd her, I fear,
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And her trembling ghost last night I see.
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Then hearing him say so, their eyes [?]
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And then unfolded all the treachery.
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Which when her love did hear he tor[e his h]air,
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And said, O that charming beauteous maid,
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Direct me, Gods! he cry'd, over the ocean wide,
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Oh! cruel creatures, that my love betray'd.
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Oh! guard her night and day, Heaven, I do pray:
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Keep her safe 'till I see her face.
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I'll wander for her sake, no comfort can I take.
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O Gods above! direct me to the place.
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Her father tore his hair, solemnly did swear,
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That they unto prison should be sent;
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Their tears did not prevail, they were sent to jail,
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While day and night at home he did lament.
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Her lover, as we hear, making ready were,
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In order to cross the raging seas,
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But strait a letter came to prevent the same.
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Poor hearts! that did their anxious spirits ease.
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My honour'd father dear, thy aged spirits cheer,
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In a short time I hope to see your face:
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The Heavens do me keep, tho' I am on the deep,
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My God he still protects, and keep me safe.
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Tell my dearest dear I've suffer'd severe,
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But yet my love and constancy remain;
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A true heart he'll find both constant and kind,
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And I hope that he will be the same.
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Her father wept we hear, so did her lover dear,
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To hear what she had suffer'd on the main.
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So leave them to mourn until her return.
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And then of this lady speak again.
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The ship, we hear, in which the lady were,
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Was homeward bound, as we understand;
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And in a little time fortune was so kind,
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That they did safe arrive into England.
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Soon as they landed were this sweet lady fair
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To this poor distressed sailor said,
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Come and go with me, my father to see,
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I hope you for your kindness will be paid.
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Strait to the door she came, and knocked at the same,
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Her father was the first that saw her face;
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Not a word could speak, her heart was like to break,
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While tears between them both bedew'd the place.
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Soon as her lover dear of the same did hear,
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Like light'ning from the sky to her he flew:
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My dearest dear, he said, art thou yet alive,
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Now our joys again we will renew.
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Soon after this, we hear, to her only dear,
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In a sumptuous manner married she were.
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Full twenty thousand pound her father paid down,
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And afterward six hundred a year.
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Ten days this wedding held, their joy was fill'd,
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For her cruel sisters they did send.
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And told what she had gone thro', and the sailor too,
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Her father said, He shall your portion spend.
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Straitway before them all he did the sailor call,
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Six thousand pounds he straitway gave him there,
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Then turn'd them out of door, saying, come here no more,
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Now of your sister's fate you must share.
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Now this couple's blest, and do live at rest,
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Maidens, now be constant like to she;
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Trust but to God on high in your extremity,
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There is no doubt but you will succour'd be.
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