THE
Fair Maid of Dunsmores LAMENTATION:
Occasion'd by
Lord WIGMORE, once Governour of Warwick-Castle:
Being a full and true Relation how he entic'd Fair Isabel of Dunsmore, in Warwickshire,
a Shepherd's Daughter, to his Bed; and she perceiving herself with Child by him, rather than
undergo the Disgrace amongst her Friends, stabbed herself, and died immediately.
To the Tune of, Troy Town, etc.
Licens'd and Enter'd.
|
ALl you that ever heard the name
|
of Wigmore, that renowned Lord,
|
Who once had gain'd a glorious Fame,
|
but lost it of his own accord;
|
A lustful love did cause her Woe,
|
Which did his Honour overthrow.
|
The King had made him Governour
|
of Warwick-Castle, where he dwelt
|
Not long, but quickly heard of her,
|
whose name to name my heart doth melt:
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
Fair Isabel they did her call,
|
a Shepherd's Daughter fair and bright,
|
Which caus'd this Man of Might to fall
|
in love with her at the first sight:
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
Lord Wigmore on a Summer's day,
|
with his own Servant walkt the field,
|
By a small river they took their way,
|
whose murmuring currant did pleasure yeild;
|
But a lustful love, etc.
|
They had not walked very far,
|
but easily they might espy
|
Fair Isabel's body to appear,
|
awashing of herself just by:
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
She in the silver stream, alone,
|
was washing of her milk-white skin;
|
But had she her misfortunes known,
|
she would not in that place have been:
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
The more he lookt, the more he lov'd,
|
till looking did for action call;
|
With flames of lust his heart was mov'd,
|
to work her ruin and his fall:
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
Thus viewing her with burning
|
he could no longer there abide,
|
But to his Castle returns again,
|
and there would fain his passion hide;
|
But lustful love, etc.
|
But all in vain, the more he strove,
|
from love-sick fancies to retire,
|
The more he burnt in lustful love,
|
and Isabel must quench the fire:
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
A trusty Servant forth he sends,
|
to bring her to him without delay,
|
Resolving for to have his ends,
|
and quickly too, he could not stay;
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
The Servant goes at his command,
|
and vows he will not be deny'd;
|
There did he 'spy fair Isabel stand,
|
just dressed by the river-side;
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
The Servant told her courteously,
|
his Lord desired her for to come,
|
For he must speak with her instantly;
|
she grants, and went into his room;
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
Lord Wigmore fell upon his knees,
|
and beg'd to him she would be kind,
|
Crying, Isabel, my Dear, none sees,
|
blush not, my Sweetest, love is blind;
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
Her innocence was overcome,
|
oh, pitty 'twas she was beguil'd;
|
She afterwards returned home,
|
and from that time conceiv'd with Child:
|
A lustful love, etc.
|
Fair Isabel's mournful Recantation.
|
AT Dunsmore, the fair Isabel,
|
neer unto Warwick, that brave Town,
|
There 'twas she mournfully did dwell,
|
repenting what was yet unknown,
|
With sighs she cries, Heaven pitty me;
|
Lord Wigmore this is long of thee.
|
Quoth she, Alas, what shall I do,
|
or unto whom shall I make my moan?
|
Each day and hour increases my woe,
|
and yet I dare not make it known;
|
With sighs, etc.
|
Oh, that I had ne'r been born,
|
and being born had dy'd just then;
|
Each Virgin will hold me in scorn,
|
I shall be scoff'd by all young Men;
|
With sighs, etc.
|
At six months end she could perceive,
|
her belly swell, and big did grow,
|
The Babe within her womb did strive,
|
and Friends began the cause to know;
|
With sighs, etc.
|
Poor Isabel distrest with grief,
|
laments her folly, but too late;
|
Instead of giving her relief,
|
her Friends do prosecute their hate;
|
With sighs, etc.
|
But she not able to endure
|
their anger, and her own disgrace,
|
Resolves to find a speedy cure,
|
in some convenient private place;
|
With sighs, etc.
|
With this sad resolution bent,
|
she takes a dagger in her hand,
|
'Twill make a heart of stone relent,
|
the truth of this to understand;
|
With sighs, etc.
|
She prays that Heaven would her forgive,
|
then to her heart her dagger sent,
|
And down she dropt; let those that live,
|
take care betimes, and all repent;
|
At last she cry'd, etc.
|
Lord Wigmore hearing of this,
|
he never more had quiet rest,
|
His guilty heart did in him bleed,
|
and privately his sins confest,
|
Fair Isabel, forgive, and I
|
Will pine with sorrow till I die.
|
I must confess I did thee wrong,
|
and openly will it proclaim;
|
Let all young Men that hear this Song,
|
take care they ne'r commit the same:
|
Fair Isabel, etc.
|
And when I am dead, and blood is cold,
|
to shew, my Dear, I lov'd thee well,
|
One Tomb shall both our Bodies hold,
|
such is my love for Isabel:
|
Fair Saint forgive my crime, and I
|
Will pine with sorrow till I die.
|
|
|
|
|
|