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EBBA 33662

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Complaint of Ulallia for
the causing her Husband to
be murdered for the love of
Strangwidge, who were
executed together.

IF ever woe did touch a womans heart,
Or grief did gall for sin the outward part,
Of conscience then and heavy heart within,
Can witness well the sorrow for my sin.

When years were young, my father forc'd me wed
Against my will, where fancy was not fed,
I was content his pleasure to obey,
Although my heart was link'd another way.

Great were the gifts they proffer'd in my sight,
With wealth they thought to win me with delight,
But gold nor gifts could not my mind remove,
For I was link'd whereas I could not love.

Me thought his sight was loathsome to my eye,
My heart did grudge against him inwardly.
This discontent did cause my deadly strife,
And with this wealth did cause a grievous life.

My constant love was on young Strangwidge set,
And wo to him that did our welfare let:
His love so deep a wo in me did take,
I would have gone abegging for his sake.

Wronged he was through fond desire of gain,
Wronged he was even though my parents plain
If faith and truth a perfect pledge might be,
I had been wife unto no man but he.

Eternal God, forgive my fathers deed,
And grant all maidens may take better heed:
If I had been but constant to my friend,
I had not match'd to make so bad an end.

But wanting grace I sought mine own decay,
And was the cause to make my friend away,
And he on whom my earthly joys did lie,
Through my amiss a shameful death must die.

Farewel sweet George always my loving friend,
Needs must I laud and love thee to the end:
And albeit that Page possest thy due,
In sight of God thou wast my husband true.

My watry eyes unto the heavens I bend,
Craving of Christ his mercy to extend,
My bloody deed to me, O Lord forgive,
And let my soul within thy Kingdom live.

Farewel false world, and friends that fickle be,
All wives farewel, example take by me.
Let not the Devil to murder you inspire,
Seek to escape such foul and filthy mire.

And now, O Christ, to thee I yield my sp'rit,
Strengthen my faith in bitter pains of death:
Forgive my faults, and folly of my sins,
And with thy blood wash thou away my crimes.


FINIS.

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