A WONDER stranger ne’er was known | |
| Than what I now shall treat upon. | |
| In Suffolk there did lately dwell | |
| A farmer rich and known full well. | |
| |
| He had a daughter fair and bright, | 5 |
| On whom he placed his chief delight; | |
| Her beauty was beyond compare, | |
| She was both virtuous and fair. | |
| |
| There was a young man living by, | |
| Who was so charméd with her eye, | 10 |
| That he could never be at rest; | |
| He was by love so much possest. | |
| |
| He made address to her, and she | |
| Did grant him love immediately; | |
| But when her father came to hear, | 15 |
| He parted her and her poor dear. | |
| |
| Forty miles distant was she sent, | |
| Unto his brother’s, with intent | |
| That she should there so long remain, | |
| Till she had changed her mind again. | 20 |
| |
| Hereat this young man sadly grieved, | |
| But knew not how to be relieved; | |
| He sighed and sobbed continually | |
| That his true-love he could not see. | |
| |
| She by no means could to him send | 25 |
| Who was her heart’s espouséd friend; | |
| He sighed, he grieved, but all in vain, | |
| For she confined must still remain. | |
| |
| He mourned so much that doctor’s art | |
| Could give no ease unto his heart, | 30 |
| Who was so strangely terrified | |
| That in short time for love he died. | |
| |
| She that from him was sent away | |
| Knew nothing of his dying day, | |
| But constant still she did remain, | 35 |
| And loved the dead, although in vain. | |
| |
| After he had in grave been laid | |
| A month or more, unto this maid | |
| He came in middle of the night, | |
| Who joyed to see her heart’s delight. | 40 |
| |
| Her father’s horse, which well she knew, | |
| Her mother’s hood and safeguard too, | |
| He brought with him to testify | |
| Her parents’ order he came by. | |
| |
| Which when her uncle understood, | 45 |
| He hoped it would be for her good, | |
| And gave consent to her straightway, | |
| That with him she should come away. | |
| |
| When she was got her love behind, | |
| They passed as swift as any wind, | 50 |
| That in two hours or little more, | |
| He brought her to her father’s door. | |
| |
| But as they did this great haste make, | |
| He did complain his head did ake; | |
| Her handkerchief she then took out, | 55 |
| And tied the same his head about. | |
| |
| And unto him she thus did say: | |
| “Thou art as cold as any clay; | |
| When we come home a fire we ’ll have”; | |
| But little dreamed he went to grave. | 60 |
| |
| Soon were they at her father’s door, | |
| And after she ne’er saw him more; | |
| “I ’ll set the horse up,” then he said, | |
| And there he left this harmless maid. | |
| |
| She knocked, and straight a man he cried, | 65 |
| “Who ’s there?” “’T is I,” she then replied; | |
| Who wondered much her voice to hear, | |
| And was possessed with dread and fear. | |
| |
| Her father he did tell, and then | |
| He stared like an affrighted man: | 70 |
| Down stairs he ran, and when he see her, | |
| Cried out, “My child, how cam’st thou here?” | |
| |
| “Pray, sir, did you not send for me, | |
| By such a messenger?” said she; | |
| Which made his hair stare on his head, | 75 |
| As knowing well that he was dead. | |
| |
| “Where is he?” then to her he said; | |
| “He ’s in the stable,” quoth the maid. | |
| “Go in,” said he, “and go to bed; | |
| “I ’ll see the horse well litteréd.” | 80 |
| |
| He stared about, and there could he | |
| No shape of any mankind see, | |
| But found his horse all on a sweat; | |
| Which made him in a deadly fret. | |
| |
| His daughter he said nothing to, | 85 |
| Nor none else (though full well they knew | |
| That he was dead a month before), | |
| For fear of grieving her full sore. | |
| |
| Her father to the father went | |
| Of the deceased, with full intent | 90 |
| To tell him what his daughter said; | |
| So both came back unto this maid. | |
| |
| They asked her, and she still did say | |
| ’T was he that then brought her away; | |
| Which when they heard they were amazed, | 95 |
| And on each other strangely gazed. | |
| |
| A handkerchief she said she tied | |
| About his head, and that they tried; | |
| The sexton they did speak unto, | |
| That he the grave would then undo. | 100 |
| |
| Affrighted then they did behold | |
| His body turning into mould, | |
| And though he had a month been dead, | |
| This handkerchief was about his head. | |
| |
| This thing unto her then they told, | 105 |
| And the whole truth they did unfold; | |
| She was thereat so terrified | |
| And grievéd, that she quickly died. | |
| |
| Part not true love, you rich men, then; | |
| But, if they be right honest men | 110 |
| Your daughters love, give them their way, | |
| For force oft breeds their lives’ decay. | |
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