VIII.

WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW.

It is from the following stanzas that Shakespeare has taken his song of the _Willow_, in his _Othello_, act iv. sc. 3, though somewhat varied and applied by him to a female character. He makes Desdemona introduce it in this pathetic and affecting manner:

"My mother had a maid call'd Barbara: She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad, Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!And did forsake her. She had a Song of--_Willow_. An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she died singing it."

This is given from a black-letter copy in the Pepys collection, thus intitled, _A Lover's Complaint, being forsaken of his Love. To a_ _pleasant tune._

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["Willow, willow" was a favourite burden for songs in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and one of John Heywood's songs has the following--

"All a grene wyllow; wyllow, wyllow, wyllow, All a grene wyllow is my garland."

In the _Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions_ (1578) there is a slightly different burden--

"Willow, willow, willow, sing all of green willow, Sing all of green willow, shall be my garland."

There is another copy of the following song in the Roxburghe Collection (i. 54, 55) printed in _Roxburghe Ballads_ (ed. W. Chappell, 1869, Part I. p. 171). Both these are of the first half of the seventeenth century, and an earlier copy than either is printed by Mr. Chappell in his _Popular Music of the Olden Time_, i. 206.

Dr. Rimbault[854] has drawn attention to the following parody, dated 1668--

"A poore soule sat sighing near a ginger-bread stall, O ginger-bread O, ginger-bread O! With his hands in his pockets, his head on the wall, O ginger-bread O, ginger-bread O! You pye-wifes of Smithfield, what would ye be at! Who talks of plum-pudding? here's better than that, For here's ginger-bread O, ginger-bread O!"]

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A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree; O willow, willow, willow! With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee: O willow, willow, willow! O willow, willow, willow! 5 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.

He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone, Come willow, &c. I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone; O willow, &c. 10 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.

My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove: O willow, &c. She renders me nothing but hate for my love. O willow, &c. 15 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

O pitty me, (cried he) ye lovers, each one; O willow, &c. Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone. O willow, &c. 20 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace; O willow, &c. The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face: O willow, &c. 25 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones: O willow, &c. The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones. O willow, &c. 30 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!

Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove; O willow, &c. She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love. O willow, &c. 35 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.

O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard! Sing willow, &c. My true love rejecting without all regard. O willow, &c. 40 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

Let love no more boast him in palace, or bower; O willow, &c. For women are trothles,[855] and flote[856] in an houre. O willow, &c. 45 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine: O willow, &c. I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine. O willow, &c. 50 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me, O willow, &c. He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she. O willow, &c. 55 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet; O willow, &c. A Garland for lovers forsaken most meete. O willow, &c. 60 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!

* * * * *

PART THE SECOND.

Lowe lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine; O willow, willow, willow! Against her too cruell, still still I complaine, O willow, willow, willow! O willow, willow, willow! 5 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd!

O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart! O willow, &c. To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart: O willow, &c. 10 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

O willow, willow, willow! the willow garlànd, O willow, &c. A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand: O willow, &c. 15 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

As here it doth bid to despair and to dye, O willow, &c. So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye: O willow, &c. 20 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.

In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view O willow, &c. Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue. O willow, &c. 25 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

With these words engraven, as epitaph meet, O willow, &c. "Here lyes one, drank poyson for potion most sweet." O willow, &c. 30 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love, O willow, &c. And carelesly smiles at the sorrowes I prove; O willow, &c. 35 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

I cannot against her unkindly exclaim, O willow, &c. Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name: O willow, &c. 40 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare, O willow, &c. It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare; O willow, &c. 45 Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.

As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe; O willow, &c. It now brings me anguish, then brought me reliefe. O willow, &c. 50 Sing, O the greene willow, &c.

Farewell, faire false hearted: plaints end with my breath! O willow, willow, willow! Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death. O willow, willow, willow! 55 O willow, willow, willow! Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garlànd.

FOOTNOTES:

[854] [Rimbault's _Musical Illustrations of Percy's Reliques_, 1850, p. 9.]

[855] [faithless.]

[856] [change.]