IV.

But God, who sees our actions here below, He would not let this wretch unpunish'd go; For this boy's mother to them did appear One night, as they in bed together were.

The apparition told them of the ring, And how she serv'd the boy in everything; Then sadly shook the bed wherein they lay, And instantly it vanish'd quite away.

The squire he was very much surpriz'd, And finding that his wife had told him lies To make him send this harmless boy away, He fell to grief and sad despair, they say.

To add unto his grief, we understand, A letter from him came to hand; He at Jamaica was, the letter told, And to a captain there was basely sold.

And as they sailing were upon the main, They by a Spanish privateer was ta'en; The ship condemn'd and all made slaves, This is my wretched case, dear sir, he says.

His father, hearing this, he swoon'd away, And calling of his wife both night and day, Saying, "Cursed wretch, what have you done, To make a father thus abuse his son?"

From home, in grief, he rambled one day, And to a lawyer went without delay; His will he made, and left his son his store, Then went and hang'd himself before his door.

The lawyer finding what he had done, Did straightway send a letter to his son, For him to return home with all speed, And money sent to ransom him, indeed.

The letter by good fortune he receiv'd, His ransom paid, and quickly was reliev'd; He got a ship and home with speed he came; None but the lawyer yet knew of the same.

He soon came home, to the great surprize Of his base mother, who, with flattering lies, Would fain excuse herself, but all in vain; To law with her he went, and did obtain--

The cause, and five hundred pounds beside, Because by her he basely was deny'd, Which vex'd her sore, and almost broke her heart, To think she with her ill-got gain must part.

Her darling daughter being left alone, Despised by all, but pitied by none, She sold off what she had, and went away, And never has been heard of since that day.

To step-mothers let this a warning be, Never to use poor children cruelly; For Heav'n will help the widow in distress, And be a Father to the fatherless.

Let parents all beg of the Lord to see, Their children brought up to maturity, 'Till for themselves they're able to provide; Lord send that they may be their careful guide!

THE BONNY SCOTCH LAD, AND HIS

BONNET SO BLUE.

At Kingston upon Hull, a town in Yorkshire,[140] I lived in splendour, and free from love's care; I roll'd in riches and had sweethearts not a few, I'm wounded by a bonny lad, and his bonnet so blue.

There came a troop of soldiers, and soon you shall hear, From Scotland to Woolwich, abroad for to steer; There is one among them I wish I'd ne'er knew, He's a bonny Scotch lad, and his bonnet so blue.

His cheeks are like the roses, his eyes like the sloes, He is handsome and proper, and kills where he goes, He is handsome and proper, and comely for to view, He's a bonny Scotch lad, and his bonnet so blue.

When I go to my bed I can find no rest, The thoughts of my true love still runs in my breast; The thoughts of my true love still runs in my view, He's a bonny Scotch lad, and his bonnet so blue.

Early in the morning, when I rose from my bed, I call'd upon Sally, that is my waiting maid, To dress me as fine as her two hands could do; I'll away and see the lad, and his bonnet so blue!

She was instantly dress'd, and parade did attend, Where she stood impatient to hear her love nam'd; Charles Stuart they do call him, my love did renew, Once a prince of that name wore a bonnet so blue.

My love he pass'd by me with his gun in his hand, I strove to speak to him, but all was in vain; I strove to speak to him, but away quite he flew, My heart it went with him, and his bonnet so blue.

She says, "My dear laddie, I'll buy your discharge, I'll free you from the soldiers and set you at large; I'll free you from the soldiers, if your heart be true, And you'll ne'er wear a stain on that bonnet so blue."

He says, "My dear lady, you'll buy my discharge, You'll free me from the soldiers and set me at large; For your kind offer I'm obliged to you, And I'll ne'er wear a stain on that bonnet so blue.

"I have a dear lass in my own country, I'll ne'er forsake her for her poverty; To the girl that I love I will always prove true, And I'll ne'er wear a stain on that bonnet so blue."

I'll send for a limner from London to Hull, To draw my love's picture out in the full, Set it in my chamber, keep it close in my view, And I'll think on the lad, for his heart it is true.

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 140: Mr. Halliwell's copy reads, "Kingston upon Woolwich, a town in Yorkshire." The above copy is from Mr. Hailstone's collection, and reads throughout more correctly.]

THE CHILD IN THE WOOD; OR THE

CRUEL UNKLE.

In the town of Beverley, in Yorkshire, about two years ago [1703], there lived one squire Somers, a very honest gentleman of about three hundred per ann.; his wife dying, by whom he had one little daughter, about two years of age, he continued some months a sorrowful widower; he could not well enjoy himself after the loss of his dear spouse. And it so happened that, partly out of grief, partly from a violent fever, he was brought to his bed of sickness, where he continued not long, for he died within a fortnight after he was taken by that fever. He expressed a great concern for his little girl, and therefore called his brother, a gentleman that lived about fourteen miles from him, and begged him to take the care of his daughter upon him. "Brother," said he, "I leave with you the dearest thing that I have in the world--my little daughter, and with her to you I intrust my estate; manage it for her use, and take care of her education in virtue and religion; use her as if she were your own, and, for my sake, see her married to an honest country gentleman." All which was faithfully promised by the brother. Thus, when all things were settled, the gentleman dies, and the brother takes home the child to his house, and for some time used her kindly. But at the last, the devil of covetousness possessed him; nothing run in his mind so much as making away with the child, and so possess the estate. After many ways, he at last concluded to take her with him, and hide her in a hollow tree; which one morning he effected, and left the poor infant with her mouth stopped that she might not cry. For he had so much grace not actually to murder her, therefore he left her alive in the hollow of the tree; and, the better to hide the matter, gave out that the child was dead, and, therefore, caused an effigy of wax to be made, laid it in a coffin, and a shroud, and made a great funeral for the child. Thus the effigy was buried, and no notice at all taken of the matter. At the same time, a neighbouring gentleman dreamed that that day he should see something that would sufficiently astonish him. He told it to his lady, who dissuaded him from going a hunting that day; but he was resolved, not giving any credit to dreams, and so takes horse in the morning. As he was a hunting, he happened to be in the wood where the child was, and as he was riding by the tree his horse gave a great start, so that he had liked to have fallen down; and turning about, to see what was the matter, he saw something stir in a hole, and being inquisitive to know the cause, his dream presently came in his head, and therefore he calls his man, and bids him examine what was in the hole; who, having searched the tree, discovers the child in the tree. He took it out, and his master carried it to his lady almost dead; he told her his dream was out, declaring how he found the child, and begged her to take care of it. The child was revived, and in a little time brought to itself again; but they could not imagine whose it was; till at last it happened that some woman came to the gentleman's house, a singing at Christmas, and seeing the child, knew it, and declared whose it was, and that it was supposed to be dead and buried. The gentleman goes and prevails with the minister of the parish to have the grave opened, and found the waxen effigy of the child in the grave. He went to the justice of the peace, to whom he declared the matter; who sent his warrant for the child's trustee, who, being convicted of the matter, was not able to deny it, but confessed all the business. But seeing the child was alive, it is supposed he will not be tried for his life, but it is thought a severe punishment will be inflicted on him; and the justice appointed the gentleman that found the child to be its trustee till the assizes. The child is now at the gentleman's house, who loves it as if it was his own, for he has no children himself, and is a man of a good estate, and is likely to augment very much the child's fortune.

Tune "_Forgive me if your looks I thought_."