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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 RURAL RHYMES, 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF 
 
 RUSTIC CUSTOMS 
 
 AND 
 
 POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS, 
 
 WITH 
 
 AN INTRODQCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 BY G. T. MANNING. 
 
 ,^^^^«s^^S/^^ *^.^^^^ 
 
 '■ Poetry hath bubbles as the water hath, 
 *' And these are of them," 
 
 ^■0 0-^^^^ 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for the Author, 
 
 5, LISLE STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE, 
 
 1837.
 
 
 TO THE 
 
 REV. J, EDWARDS, M. A. 
 
 Trhc. Coll. Camb. 
 SECOND MASTER OF KINO's COLLEGE SCHOOL, 
 
 THIS LITTLE WORK 
 
 IS 
 
 (by his kind PERMISSION^ 
 
 DEDICATED, 
 IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE 
 
 OF 
 
 SERVICES RECEIVED UNDER HIS TUITION, 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS MOST OBLIGED 
 
 AND 
 
 HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 GEORGE THEODORE MANNING. 
 
 871523
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY 
 
 A VERY slight acquaintance with rural scenes is 
 sufficient to excite in the contemplative mind an admi- 
 ration of the beauties of nature, as they are shown in 
 the different forms and characters which she exhibits, 
 and in the endless variety of colours and ornaments 
 with which she is so profusely decorated. It is also 
 impossible to observe her without seeing the wonderful 
 gradation of animated beings, up to the most perfect of 
 her creatures, each possessing properties fitted for its 
 particular purposes, and endued with faculties adapt9d 
 to the necessities of its peculiar class. Man alone 
 seems to possess the power of reflecting on this 
 great panorama, of comparing its endless harmonies 
 and beauties, and of deducing conclusions, often 
 favourable only to his own fancies which will pro- 
 bably be more or less correct, according to the 
 degree of his intelligence, and to the extent of his edu- 
 cation and study. Jt is, therefore, not extraordinary 
 that amongst those whose minds have been left to 
 receive their impression from chance or accident, many 
 may have imbibed wrong notions ; and to this may in 
 some measure be traced the origin of many of our 
 popular superstitions. 
 
 Dr. Campbell has remarked that " Ignorance is the 
 mother of Superstition, which she had by Fear." Now 
 superstition may exist without ignorance; for there arei 
 many instances in which the greatest minds are tinctured 
 
 a
 
 VI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 with it, even in this civilized and enlightened age. 
 That it cannot exist without fear is certain, for super- 
 stition is fear under another name, as all who own its 
 influence live under a perpetual terror of something 
 which their reason cannot comprehend. That it can 
 exist without ignorance is equally certain, from the 
 numerous examples which we find in ancient as well 
 as modern times ; for the Greeks and Romans, when in 
 the zenith of their glory, and from whom the barbarous 
 world was learning arts and civilization, had their 
 omens and their oracles. 
 
 Man is naturally disposed to superstition, and is ever 
 ready to believe in any thing that appears marvellous 
 or supernatural. As soon as his mind is sufficiently 
 formed, and has the power of reasoning, he begins to 
 feel, that there must be a greater and more powerful 
 Being than himself, who has created and directs the 
 order of the universe ; 
 
 " And that there is, all r*fature cries aloud 
 Through all her works." 
 
 From this feeling fear, and with it superstition, 
 necessarily arise ; the wildest and most remote of 
 savages on Afric's burning shore, and the but lately 
 known inhabitants of the New- World, all acknowledge 
 a Supreme Being or Almighty Power, and have an 
 idea of a soul, with the belief of a future happiness, 
 though "shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it." 
 It is also curious to observe with what avidity and 
 interest children read those tales which are marvellous 
 and wonderful, in preference to those which are instruc- 
 tive and beneficial; and we find even persons more 
 advanced in years, often greatly interested in the wild 
 and fantastic legends of the Germans, and other similar 
 wonders, dressed out in all the romantic imagery of the 
 more civilized nations of the world. 
 
 It has been said that " the soul is a rough diamond 
 requiring the art and care of a skilful workman to 
 polish and produce it in all its beauty :" if fear be 
 made one of the instruments there will be much
 
 INTRODUCTOKV ESSAY. Vll 
 
 danger in its use ; the mind of a child too suffers in 
 the same way ; and the nurse, ignorant of the mischief 
 she is doing, (when she would frighten her charge into 
 obediencts by the numerous imaginative beings she 
 teaches it to bclie\e in and dread,) lays the foundation 
 of a suffering which may never be removed. Education 
 may indeed counteract this, and in those upon whom 
 the light of reason and revelation shines with all its 
 splendour, these effects may remain only as slight spots 
 upon the disk of intellectual attainments; but where 
 these advantages are not enjoyed, and the mind has 
 not been tutored in the detection of ignorance and 
 folly, these impressions will remain for ever; new 
 wonders and horrors will destroy every better feeling, 
 which, as a tender and beauteous flower, found upon 
 a wild and sterile heath, just opens to the sight, and 
 then perishes, choaked by the pernicious weeds which 
 grow around. 
 
 After this account of its origin and effects on the 
 mind of man, it may not be uninteresting to trace the 
 progress of popular superstition in this country, and to 
 watch its various changes down to the present time, 
 when it has almost ceased to exist, except in the 
 minds of the vulgar, and in the more sequestered parts 
 of the kingdom. 
 
 Superstition has every where been much aided and 
 incrcEised by evil designing persons, who have exercised 
 their own superior knowledge upon those less enlight- 
 ened than themselves, for the purpose of imposition, 
 and to keep them in continued fear and subordination. 
 The earliest and best example in British history is 
 that of the Druids, who by their various mystic cere- 
 monies could so impose upon the ignorance of the 
 people, as to draw large sums of money from them to 
 be paid in the other world. " Druidae pecuniam 
 rautuo accipiebant in posteriore vita reddituri." — 
 Patricius. Their religion was the most barbarous and 
 brutal that can be imagined ; their horrid sa-^ritices of 
 human beings, and their pretensions to divination and
 
 VUI INTRODUCTORY ESSAY, 
 
 prophecy, caused them to be held in reverence and 
 awe by the savage and ignorant Britons, while the 
 simplicity of their lives (subsisting upon acorns and 
 berries, and living in hollow trees and caves) procured 
 for them the adoration of that credulous and deluded 
 age. There is a curious circumstance, probably having 
 a reference to this early religion, which is still common 
 in the western parts of England (North Devon and 
 Cornwall) ; " If you ask a countryman to dine with 
 you, he objects to every kind of game which comes to 
 your table, and says in his provincial dialect, ' I'se 
 never eats hallow fowl,' under which term he includes 
 hares and rabbits as well as wild fowl. It is in vain 
 to inquire whence this dislike proceeds, for he can tell 
 you no more than that he derived it from his father." 
 Caesar, in his Commentaries, says, " Leporem et galli- 
 nam, et anserem gustare fas non putant ; haec tamen 
 alunt anirai voluptatisque causa." The Greek poets 
 also speak of the sacred hare; and from the numer- 
 ous bones of hares and fowls found on opening the 
 barrows near Stonehenge it is probable they were 
 also sacred te the religion of the Druids. The bards, 
 their disciples, added much to our legends and tradi- 
 tions, for when they found their themes inadequate 
 to the warmth of their imaginations, they varnished 
 them over with fables supplied by their own fancy 
 or furnished from equally absurd sources, which they 
 themselves credited, their minds having imbibed, from 
 the instructions of their masters, ideas of the grossest 
 superstition or supernatural appearances. Their stories, 
 however ridiculous or improbable, had their believers, 
 and posterity either did credit them, or from a vanity 
 natural to mankind, pretended they did. One of the 
 very common superstitions of the present day, that 
 of spilling salt being an ill omen, may be traced to 
 the earliest times, and according to Festus it was so 
 considered amongst the Romans. 
 
 The light of Christianity under the renowned King 
 Arthur first beamed upon the minds of the savage and
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. IX 
 
 ignorant Britons, and partially dispelled the clouds of 
 base idolatry and barbarous superstition which had so 
 long hung over them. To the invasion of the Saxons 
 we are indebted for the numerous wild and romantic 
 legends and traditions which bear such an affinity to 
 those now common in Germany. To the Danes we 
 are indebted for very little, as during the time that they 
 were possessors of Britain, they were kept in such con- 
 tinual terror, and so driven from place to place by the 
 natives, that they could not leave or establish any lasting 
 memorial of their manners and customs. From the 
 Crusades we may derive the belief in unnatural mon- 
 sters, such as gryphons, winged horses, and fiery dra- 
 gons ; for the Templars returning from the land of the 
 hot and fiery-minded Saracens, with tales of wonder 
 and enchantment, bearing upon their shields devices 
 wild and unearthly, totally strange to the peaceable 
 minds and habits of our forefathers, inspired them with 
 dread and terror, and gave to their imaginations ideas 
 entirely new, which were handed from generation to 
 generation with all the embellishments and additions 
 common to narrators. Our stock of wonders was much 
 augmented by the necromancers and witches, also from 
 the ancient mysteries, and lastly from the creative 
 imagination of the sixteenth century. 
 
 The manners and dispositions of a people may be 
 gathered from their mythology, and it may perhaps not 
 be out of place to give some account of the Fairies, 
 which may be considered as forming the highly interest- 
 ing mythology of Great Britain. Classical fabulous 
 history is grand and magnificent, whilst that of this 
 conntry possesses the characteristics of the natives, being 
 homely, peaceable and gay. It may be compared also 
 to the architecture of each nation ; the one bold, heavy, 
 and imposing, like the buildings of ancient Greece and 
 Rome, to be admired only by looking upon the whole 
 mass : the other, light, airy, and pleasing, like the rich 
 wrought tracery of the Gothic style, unfolding to the 
 eye at every glance fresh beauties and interest in the
 
 X INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 numerous devices and designs with which it abounds, 
 each possessing some sweet enchanting tale or allegory, 
 
 " Beautiful fictions of our fathers, wove 
 In superstition's web, when time was young 
 And fondly loved and cherished." 
 
 It is pleasing to observe the various occupations and 
 employment of these " merry wanderers of the night," 
 
 " Who on the sands, with printless foot, 
 Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him 
 "WTien he comes back," 
 
 and the pretty and highly poetical idea in attributing 
 those bright circles of grass frequently found in seques- 
 tered spots to these joyful and volatile little beiogs, 
 
 " Who by moonshine do the green sour ringlets make 
 Whereof the ewe not bites ; and whose pastime 
 Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 
 To hear the solemn curfew." 
 
 There is something particularly beautiful and pleas- 
 ing in thus accounting for many strange and curious 
 appearances in nature ; and to enquire into the customs 
 and habits of these merry tenants of the faery world, is 
 a study replete with many charms. 
 
 Their chief enjoyment seems to have been mischief, 
 for though they rew^arded the industrious and cleanly, 
 they punished the sloven and played tricks with the 
 idle. Their adventures were mostly performed by moon- 
 light ; they generally bestowed many favors on those 
 they took a particular fancy to, as Milton describes the 
 goblin who comes 
 
 " To earn his cream-bowl duly set, 
 When in one night, ere glimpse of mom. 
 His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn 
 That ten day-laborers could not end ; 
 Then lays him down the lubbar fiend, 
 And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length. 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength, 
 And cropful out of doors he flings, 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings." 
 
 Roberts is of opinion that the belief in the existence 
 of Fairies must have originated in the real existence of
 
 INTRODUCTORY ESSAV. XI 
 
 some people in Wales, at a remote period, who were 
 obliged to live in secret ; " they might have been the 
 remnants of an Irish invading party :" he adds, "that 
 the manner in which the supposed existence of Fairies, 
 as supernatural beings, is accounted for here, is not 
 destitute of probability," as the following extract from 
 the Border Minstrelsy will show : '• Perhaps in this 
 (Gyrfing) and similar tales, we may recognize something 
 of real history. That the Fins, or ancient nations of 
 Scandinavia, were driven into the mountains by the 
 invasion of Odin and his x'Vsiatics, is extremely pro- 
 bable. It is therefore possible that in process of time 
 the oppressed Fins may have been transformed into the 
 supernatural duergar (elves). A similar transformation 
 has taken place among the vulgar in Scotland regarding 
 the Picts, or Pects, to whom they ascribe various super- 
 natural attributes." 
 
 These opinions may be right as far as they go, but it 
 seems very improbable that the remnant of a party of 
 invaders, \vho had been left behind in the country of 
 their enemies, where they were living amongst the 
 mountains and secret places, should be looked upon with 
 either fear or wonder. Admitting it to be true that this 
 belief arose from what Roberts and Scott have stated, 
 vet it is better to attribute this fear or superstition to their 
 customs and habits, rather than to the people them- 
 selves; for as they lived in a continual state of watch- 
 fulness and secrecy, it is probable that they seldom or 
 never appeared during the day, but employed every ma- 
 noeuvre to annoy as well as to evade their foes. 
 
 Whatever may have been the ground on which this 
 beautiful imagery has been founded, and which may be 
 considered- as the only remaining British Mythology, it 
 is quite certain that all is now gone, t'ven the faint recol- 
 lection of their merry doings is fast fading away ; and 
 perhaps in another century, among the ignorant country 
 people, (at present the greatest and almost only believers 
 in these traditions.) the Fairy will be as little known as 
 Titania with her Sylphid train.
 
 XU INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 
 
 Gross Superstition has long yielded to the light of 
 reason and the influence of a religion whose dictates are 
 not fear and barbarity. There still remain some vestiges, 
 which are gradually disappearing, and may perhaps be 
 banished from the shores of this favoured isle ; and it is 
 to be hoped that the general diffusion of knowledge 
 amongst all classes of society will be so directed as to 
 erase from the mind its chief causes — fear and igno- 
 rance ; and that this education will not engender a con • 
 ceit and vanity which will elevate them above that 
 station of life in which Providence has placed them. 
 '' Against learning, against talent of every kind, nothing 
 can steady the head unless you fortify the heart with real 
 Christianity. In raising the moral edifice we must sink 
 deep in proportion as we build high ; we must widen 
 the foundation if we extend the superstructure, for 
 religion alone can counteract the aspirings of genius, and 
 regulate the pride of talents." — H. Moore. 
 
 This attempt to illustrate some of the most familiar 
 customs of rural life, in connection with a few of the 
 common superstitions, and in a language characteristic 
 of the scenes wherein they are exhibited, must, from the 
 nature of the subject, be a very: imperfect work; it 
 opens, however, a fountain from which much may be 
 drawn, and affords a field wherein the fancy may be 
 indulged without much exceeding the bounds of pro- 
 bability. 
 
 If by this feeble undertaking a single individual shall 
 have been amused, or, by the light in which they are 
 shown, induced to trace back to natural causes those 
 striking effects which have hitherto been considered as 
 supernatural, it may not be presumptuous to say, that 
 this little volume will not have been without its use, nor 
 its author without his reward.
 
 iEi«/E^a mmwi 
 
 Stanton Piavrourt; 
 
 A RUSTIC TALE. 
 
 1. Morning; 2. Harvest; 3. Reapers; 4. Courtship; 5. Signs: 
 (i. ij'uperstitions; 7- Storm;?}. Love; 9. Devotion; 10. Catastiophe. 
 
 I. 
 
 IMORN blusb'd on Harcourt's fertile plains, 
 Aiid woke the silent, various strains 
 Of feather'd songsters, who, to greet 
 The rising sun with voices sweet. 
 Shot up arid wing'd their airy way, 
 Or hopp'd from dewy spray to spray ; 
 Shaking; some thousand diamonds down, 
 To dock fair Nature's richest gown. 
 
 A
 
 2 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Then came there forth the sprightly swain^ 
 His hard-earn'd daily bread to gain ; 
 And casting high an anxious look 
 To read the skies, his way he took 
 To where the corn with golden dew 
 Jn rich luxuriance rose to view ; 
 And promis'd then full crop to yield. 
 To him who own'd the waving field. 
 
 III. 
 
 Now meet they there the reaper band, 
 
 With greetings true from many a hand. 
 
 And, rang'd in single long array. 
 
 Their shining sickles they display; 
 
 Each grasps the corn with arras spread wide. 
 
 While through the stems the sharp blades glide. 
 
 And with one quick, decisive blow 
 
 Its pride, its glory is laid low : 
 
 An emblem of that sudden fate 
 
 Which oft on life's bright visions wait.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 3 
 
 There was amongst that rustic train 
 
 A smiling maid, and joyous swain, 
 
 Form'd not in Nature's loveliest mould, 
 
 But fair and comely to behold ; 
 
 O I it was sweet to see them prove 
 
 The tenderness of mutual love ; 
 As each would strive to ease awhile 
 Their 4abor with a winning smile; 
 Oft would he pluck the poppy there, 
 His burning passion to declare ; 
 And then with simple playful art 
 Its centre liken to his heart ; 
 Which was, he said, to cinder turn'd 
 By that fierce flame that round it hurn'd. 
 And then she took that flower and prest 
 It softly to her throbbing breast ; 
 And next a little plant she'd bind 
 To his by sunple grassy knot ; 
 Then give it back to him so kind, 
 
 With modest sweet " Forget-me-not."
 
 'i RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 V. 
 
 Now marks the Farmer with a sigh, 
 The heifers' tails extended high; 
 And twitt'ring swallows scouring low 
 Instinctive feelings clearly show.* 
 Huge fleecy clouds of pond'rous siee 
 Sail slowly in the dark'ning skies ; 
 The reaper, too, looks up and sees 
 Rise from behind the distant trees, 
 In dusky state of ebon hue, 
 Clouds, o'er the Heaven's resplendent blue: 
 There is a strange and awful sound 
 While iitful sobs the gale around ; 
 The feather'd songsters all are still, 
 And darkly rolls the murmuring rill : 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then sinks the wind, 'tis dark and drear. 
 While many a stout heart quakes with fear, 
 And marks the drops with solemn sound 
 That thickly spot the thirsting ground;
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 With the hoarse raven's boding croak ^ 
 High in an ancient wither'd oak. 
 Pale many a face, fix'd many an eye, 
 To know the bird of ill is nigh ; 
 They quickly leave their work behind, 
 A shelter from the storm to find. 
 The lovers, who are ever prone 
 For solitude, were left alone. 
 Whilst he with haste and anxious care, 
 Disposed the scatter'd produce there. 
 And made a hut of rudest form. 
 To shelter 'gainst the coming storm. 
 
 VII- 
 
 Loud then a whizzing whistle shrill 
 Sounded aloft, before so still, 
 Shook eveiy leaf in every tree, 
 Whence far th' affrighted songsters flee. 
 And down th' impending torrent rush'd. 
 Which pour'd awhile, and then was hush'd.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Now gleams the lightning's lurid glare. 
 Now bursts the shriek in wilJ despair, 
 Now splitting thunders bellowing roll, 
 And shake the earth from pole to pole. 
 
 VIIT. 
 
 'Twas there they sat, in love's sweet dream, 
 
 Whilst round the flashing lightnings gleam, 
 
 With cheek 'gainst cheek, their hands lock'd fast, 
 
 One arm around each neck was cast; 
 
 Trembling, but not with selfish fear, 
 
 For each the other far more dear ; 
 
 Yet brighter still the lightning blaz'd. 
 
 And each aghast with horror gaz'd, 
 
 Then hid she on his beating breast 
 
 Her face within his rustic vest ; 
 
 And heard his heart's quick tell-tale throb. 
 
 And mark'd fear's stifled bursting sob, 
 
 While from her lovely glist'ning eye 
 
 Fell purest gems of sympathy.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Fear not,'" he cried ; then with a smile, 
 
 Which banish'd terror for a while, 
 
 She said, '' Oh can I — should I fear, 
 
 " When thou, my hope, my guard, art near ? 
 
 "' See'st thou," she cried, " yon sturdy oak," 
 
 And kiss'd him as she fondly spoke, 
 
 " With creeping ivy closely bound, 
 
 " Which o'er its trunk for years has wound ?" 
 
 Then with a playful look she said, 
 
 '• Xo, 'tis too old, the trunk is dead ; 
 
 " But see'st thou on it yon green bough, 
 
 " That e'en is growing freshly now ? 
 
 " Yourself that bough, the ivy mine, 
 
 " That slightly round it strives to twine. 
 
 '' And wilt thou, when thy loving wife, 
 
 " Thus shield me from the ills of life ? 
 
 " For should disease or sorrow's stroke 
 
 " E'er make thee as that wither'd oak,
 
 8 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 " Like as the ivy I will cling, 
 " I'll every little comfort bring, 
 "And strive v^^ith many a tender art 
 " Some joy or pleasure to impart; 
 " Like these we'll live, and with a sigh 
 " When life is run, I'll with thee die;" 
 She said, " for ne'er " 
 
 X 
 
 A scathing flash 
 Follow'd by loud and deaf'ning crash. 
 Struck branch and ivy to the ground, 
 Split the old trunk in splinters round ; 
 Then rush'd the wild destructive dart, 
 And pierc'd the lovers to the heart. 
 
 'Twas thus they died, and in one tomb 
 They sleep, o'er which the flow'rets grow, 
 
 And many an eye has wept the doom. 
 Which laid those faithful lovers low.
 
 RURAL RHY.MES. 
 
 iFang Song* 
 
 'Tis late i'th' night, 
 The moon is bright, 
 And the wind is softly blowing ; 
 Each faery wight, 
 By the silvery light, 
 His usual round is ffoing. ' 
 Then merrily, merrily, dance along 
 To the nightingale's sweet lay ; * 
 With the echoing laugh and jovial song, 
 And peals of revelry. 
 
 VVe carry a lamp 
 Of the fen's bright damp, ^ 
 Which the 'lated swain comes after, 
 , Then deep in the slough 
 
 We lay him low, 
 And are off with shouts of laughter.
 
 10 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Then marrily, merrily, dance away, 
 To the farms where all are sleeping, 
 
 Who the faery tribute will not pay,* 
 Or a tidy hearth be keeping. 
 
 Now the sleepers wake. 
 An A the bed-clothes take, ^ 
 And away we'll drag them far. 
 When up they'll get. 
 And fume and fret. 
 While we're off with a ha ! ha ! ha I 
 Then merrily, merrily, dance about, 
 
 To the beetle's humming sound. 
 With song, and laugh, and noise, and rout, 
 We will shake the echoing ground. 
 
 Come elf and fay, 
 
 All haste away. 
 To where the bowl is laid 
 
 And the silv'ry boon, ® 
 
 We'll drop i'th' shoon ^ 
 Of the thoughtful dairy- maid.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. H 
 
 And merrily, merrily, dance we there, 
 
 ■ As the gnat a tune is playing, 
 V\ ith a broom we'll neat the room prepare.* 
 While we in the house are staying. 
 
 This task is done, 
 As is our fun, 
 We must be quickly going ; 
 For mom is near, 
 "And soon I fear. 
 The cock will be loudly crowing. 
 Then merrily, merrily, dance away 
 ' To our faery home we'll go, 
 And sing and laugh there all the day. 
 With a ha ! ha ! ha ! ho ! ho ! » 
 
 Ehr IXahin ^tXi-hvta$u 
 
 The robin is a happy bird. 
 
 Not knowing gloom or sorrow, 
 
 With plenty for the passing day, 
 He cares not for the morrow.
 
 12 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 A sacred spell his life attends, ' 
 And nought will e'er alarm hira. 
 
 For not a swain will do hira ill, 
 And not a hand dare harm him. 
 
 When winter's chilly terrors come, 
 And loud the wind is hlowing, 
 
 Then to the friendly haunts of men 
 We see the Red-breast going. 
 
 And many a bright-eyed lass awaits 
 With bounteous hand extended, 
 
 To feed this little happy bird, 
 That once two babes befriended. ' 
 
 When winter goes, away he flies, 
 And leaves those friends repining ; 
 
 'Tis thus, they say, their lovers seek 
 For other eyes more shining. 
 
 Who would not be the robin then, 
 That each fair maid is loving ; 
 
 In summer gay and happily 
 
 Through wood and meadow roving?
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 13 
 
 I rise with the lark at the break of the day, 
 And o'er the rough fallows I wend on my way ; 
 With my plough and my team all my time I employ. 
 For happy am I, and a merry plough-boy. 
 
 1 whistle and sing, and cast sorrow behind, 
 And leave it to sigh its sad way on the wind, 
 Whilst I revel in pleasures that never can cloy, 
 For happy am I, and a merry plough-boy. 
 
 I rest me at noon 'neath the shade of a tree, 
 And list to the little birds warbling with glee. 
 Whilst oft 'neath the branches they venture,though coy, 
 To partake of a meal with the merry plough-boy. 
 
 At eve, vmen the sun has sunk deep in the west, 
 I whistling return to my supper and rest ; 
 All the blessings of sleep through the night I enjoy, 
 And wake on the morrow a happy plough-boy.
 
 14 RURAL RHYMES 
 
 From the fields green and bright 
 
 Sweets are ascending, 
 x\nd with the dews of night 
 Flow' rets are bending ; 
 See the brisk lark arise. 
 High to the azure skies^ 
 Warbling his melodies. 
 As upward wending. 
 
 Softly the lengthsome grass 
 
 Breezes are heaving, 
 Early each watchful lass 
 Her couch is leaving ; 
 Sine then each maid and swain. 
 May is now come again, 
 Who can from joy refrain ? 
 Who would be grieving ? 
 
 Now to the meadows nigh, 
 
 Damsels are going, 
 Where the gay butterfly 
 
 Flow' rets is wooing; 
 
 •
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 And in the leafy bovvers, 
 Culling tlie fragrant flowers, 
 Wet with the dew-drop showers, 
 Garlands are strewing. 
 
 Sprightly the youthful train, 
 
 Joyfully singing, 
 Haste to the village plain. 
 
 White May-boughs bringing ; ' 
 And deck the May-pole tall. 
 Round which the rustics all 
 Dance till the ev'ning fall, 
 Merry bells ringing. 
 
 High in the cloudless sky 
 Swallows are flying ; 
 • Lads with their lasses shy 
 Love knots are tying ; * 
 
 Sing then each maid and swain, 
 May is now come again. 
 Who can from joy refrain ? 
 Who would be sighing ? 
 
 16
 
 16 RURAL RHYJIES. 
 
 Wilt (Drpftait* 
 
 OLD BALLAD METRE. 
 
 The sun was sinking in the west 
 
 One lovely summer's eve. 
 When shepherds for their lowly homes 
 
 Their daily labours leave. 
 
 The ev'ning bell from ivy'd tower 
 ToU'd forth its solemn sound, 
 
 The distant hill and dark'ning dale 
 Re-echoed far around. 
 
 There came a very little child 
 Into the church-yard gray ; 
 
 He came with quick but silent step, 
 He came not there to play. 
 
 Down by his lovely face, his hair 
 Hung curly, soft, and sleek, 
 
 And many a sparkling briny tear 
 .Stole o'er his paly cheek.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 17 
 
 He laid him down upon the ground 
 
 Beneath the greenwood tree, 
 And clasping with his arms the sod, 
 
 He sighed piteouslie. 
 
 ■" Oh, come thou home, my mother dear ; 
 
 ** When wilt thou wake again ?" 
 He said, and bath'd with many a tear, 
 
 That grave so humbly plain. 
 
 '• I'll pluck for thee the violet sweet, 
 
 " The lily pale and fair, 
 ** Then come and kiss my little cheek, 
 
 "And part ray pretty hair. 
 
 ■" Again on this my father's grave 
 " The flow'rets fresh we'll throw ; 
 
 *• I'll show thee all these lovely plants 
 " But ah ! they're wither'd now." 
 
 f 
 
 Then clasped he his tiny hands. 
 
 And bended on his knee. 
 He sobbed out a simple prayer, 
 
 And wept most bitterlie. 
 b3
 
 18 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 The breeze came softly oer the hills. 
 And sighed through the grove, 
 
 That prayer was carried, as it pass'd, 
 To him who reigns above. 
 
 Sons* 
 1. 
 
 O ! would [ were a gentle stream, 
 
 That winds through mead and bower. 
 
 Illumin'd by the pale moon-beam, 
 In ev'ning's balmy hour. 
 
 2. 
 
 O ! were my love a lily fair, 
 
 On its bright wave to rest, 
 In glist'ning beauty sleeping there, 
 
 As on my heaving breast, 
 
 3. 
 
 Such happiness would then be mine, 
 
 'T would be a rapt'rous dream, 
 Of joys as pure as rays that shine 
 Upon that moon-lit stream.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 19 
 
 Eiic ittilltmatlJ of ^jjlcsfbuvs 2Fale» 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 Who does not know the milkmaid 
 That lives in Aylesbury vale ? 
 With her step so lij^ht, 
 And eye so bright. 
 And wiggen milking pail ; ^ 
 You may know her by her ancle 
 So beautiful and small ; 
 By her hand so fair, 
 And auburn hair, 
 And figure slim and tall. 
 
 By various other graces 
 You this charming maid may tell. 
 By her pearly breast, 
 In tunic prest, 
 With pure enthralling swell ;
 
 20 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Like the virgin snow that rises 
 In waves upon the grass, 
 
 And seems to try 
 
 To heave a sigh, 
 While winter's bleak winds pass. 
 
 At daybreak, o'er the meadows 
 She gaily takes her way, 
 
 And singing sweet 
 
 The lark to greet, 
 With many a rustic lay ; 
 'Tis early when she smiling 
 First trips across the lawn, ' 
 
 And seems to share 
 
 With nature there. 
 The rosy blush of dawn. 
 
 The dewy flow' rets open 
 And gaze upon the lass, 
 
 As rous'd from sleep, 
 
 All seem to weep. 
 They cannot her surpass.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 21 
 
 While the discontented zephyr 
 Is heaving many a sigh, 
 To think the song 
 It wafts along 
 With her's can never vie. 
 
 I saw her one sweet morning, 
 'Twas on the first of May, 
 
 'Xeath her tankard pile^ 
 
 With witching smile, 
 She stole xny heart away. 
 'Twas then I first address'd her, 
 She listen'd to my tale. 
 
 And oft at night. 
 
 By pure starlight 
 I met her in the vale, 
 
 O speak not of the palace, 
 Or the brilliant gay saloon, 
 For fain I'd rove 
 Within the grove, 
 When love -lit by the moon.
 
 22 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 And hear the night bird singing, 
 And the turtle tell his tale, 
 While the lips I'd kiss, 
 In sweetest bliss, 
 Of the milkmaid of the vale. 
 
 Zfit ilober'js Hamcnt. 
 
 The fiery sun 
 
 His course has run, 
 And sinks beneath the lea ; 
 
 Each creature blest, 
 
 Retires to rest. 
 But now there's none for me. 
 
 My love lies here, 
 
 And many a tear 
 Upon his grave shall flow. 
 
 And flow'rets sweet, 
 
 Opprest by heal, 
 Reviv'd by them shall grow.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 2S 
 
 Each blooming spring 
 
 Fresh flowers I'll bring, 
 And plant with pious care 
 
 The red rose tree.. 
 
 And rosemary, 
 With daisy pale and fair. 
 
 Two sprigs of yew, 
 
 Eer green to view, 
 Fit emblems of our love, 
 
 On earth apart, 
 
 With skilful art, 
 I'll train to meet above. ' 
 
 But should in bowers 
 
 Bees leave sweet flowers, 
 And hang on some scajth'd tree ; 
 
 That sign will tell 
 
 A solemn knell 
 Will soon be rung for me.
 
 24 RURAL RHYMES, 
 
 Should too at night. 
 The pale blue light, 
 
 But roll its winding sheet, 
 And o'er my cot, — 
 Once happy spot, — 
 
 The lich ' owl take its seat. 
 
 Should cricket shrill, 
 Dire bode of ill, 
 
 Loud in the hearth resound ; 
 Or death-watch small ^ 
 My heart appal, 
 
 rU seek this sacred ground. 
 
 There down I'll lie, 
 With grateful sigh, 
 
 And wait my certain doom ; 
 With hope imprest 
 Of heav'nly rest, 
 
 To join him in the tomb.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. ' 25 
 
 ESSSEX. 
 
 As once I wandered, where on high, 
 
 In bold relief against the sky, 
 
 Rise turrets tall from ancient keep. 
 
 Round which the limes in concert weep, 
 
 As if they seem to wail the fate 
 
 That made those walls so desolate ; 
 
 I raark'd the sun's broad chariot wheel, 
 
 That shone at noon like burnish'd steel, 
 
 Now downward sinking ; like a car 
 
 Returning from the ranks of war. 
 
 In which the victor proudly stood, 
 
 That bright wheel dimm'd with crimson blood 
 
 I saw him bending to the west, 
 
 l-Q seek from toil a welcome rest, 
 
 As o'er his couch he curtains drew 
 
 Of scarlet, fring'd with gold and blue. 
 
 And then I pac'd by Colne's slow stream. 
 That trancjuil lay, as in a dream ;
 
 26 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Silent, save when with starthng sound. 
 That many a golden ring cast round, 
 Leapt scaly fish with wanton play. 
 To catch those insects of a day, 
 Whose rays of life so shortly gleam, 
 To feed the tenants of the stream. 
 Showing within their little span 
 One spark jof nature's wondrous plan. 
 
 Now lengthen'd shadows softly rest, 
 Pillow'd upon its placid breast ; 
 And then reflected there is seen 
 The bending sallows' lively green. 
 While stunted aldars intervene. 
 Close to its banks the hop-grounds bear 
 A produce for the winter's cheer, 
 And fallow'd spots, with fields of corn. 
 The woody prospect far adorn; 
 
 And then I passed the Linden bower. 
 That waves around that stately tower. 
 And trod the winding turret stair. 
 To gain the audience chamber there ;
 
 RURAL RHYiAIES. 27 
 
 In which De Veres oft sate in pride, 
 
 With serf and baron at their side. 
 
 Imagination next pourtrays 
 A martial scene of other days, 
 When belted knight in council sate. 
 Contesting fiercely in debate. 
 And then raethought a board seera'd spread. 
 Lighted by glare of torches red, 
 And dusky banners droop'd from high. 
 With arms in grandest panoply, 
 Where noble shields were hanging o'er 
 The columns of the corridor ; 
 While the old castle seemed to ring 
 With joyous shout and wassailing ; 
 And many a laughing eye divine 
 Gave brighter lustre to the wine,^ 
 Like Houris' dark and love-lit eyes 
 O'erperfum'd founts of Paradise. 
 
 But hark 1 the minstrel's harp sounds high, 
 In sweetest strains of melody ;
 
 28 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Now sinking to the softest strain, 
 Now rising high, then lost again ; 
 It ceas'd — the vision pass'd away. 
 And show'd the fastly closing day ; 
 But through the gloom, upon the wall 
 That harp still seeiu'd within the hall ; 
 The strings were snapp'd, and only one ^ 
 Remain'd to tell of deeds long done. 
 
 That chord was weak, its fire was dead ; 
 The sighing zephyrs oft pass'd by, 
 
 And kiss'd that string, as from it fled 
 This simple, feeble, melody. 
 
 AIR. 
 
 High on the wall, in Heda's tower. 
 This ancient harp hath hung ; 
 
 To which, in maiden's faery bower, 
 The bard of yore hath sung. 
 
 Oft too within the banner' d hall 
 Its notes have sounded high, 
 
 And told of foeraan's deadly fall. 
 And glorious victory.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 29 
 
 So long those tones have silent slept. 
 
 For many a rolling year, 
 Since to its lays the maiden wept. 
 
 And dropt the pearly tear ; 
 
 Or since it told how warriors fell, 
 
 Far from their native land ; * 
 That but one string remains to tell 
 
 Of Time's destroying hand. 
 
 Yet when at eve, through beetling tower. 
 The wind its course does sweep ; 
 
 This harp, as touch'd by magic power, 
 Thus faintly seems to weep : 
 
 Let not a mortal's rude hand dare 
 
 To give that chord a stroke; 
 For then, as bursting with despair. 
 
 The charm will sure be broke.
 
 30 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 irItlolDtns, 
 
 Rink-a-tink, the scythe is ringing 
 In the hay-fields far and near, 
 
 And the merry mowers' singing 
 Rudely sounds upon the ear. 
 
 See, each sturdy labourer bending, 
 O'er the toilsome way they go ; 
 
 'Twas said, on Adam's first offending, 
 Man should live by sweat of brow. 
 
 Mark ! the shining scythe is sweeping 
 Down the flowers we lov'd to view. 
 
 And each neighbouring bush is weeping 
 Many a tear of sparkling dew. 
 
 So the friends, that now we cherish, 
 Soon beneath Time's scythe will fall ; 
 
 Like those simple flowers, they'll perish. 
 While we fondly weep them all.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 31 
 
 Now no more the scythe is ringing 
 
 In the hay-fields far and near. 
 But the mowers, blythely singing, 
 
 Haste to wives and homes most dear. 
 
 See their children come with greeting. 
 
 Each around his father plays ; 
 
 O ! this blissful hour of meeting 
 
 Years of scorching toil repays. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Life is like an April day, 
 
 Joy and woe combining ; 
 Dark clouds awhile their forms display. 
 
 And then 'tis fair and shining. 
 
 Why should mortals then be sad ? 
 
 Why depress'd with sorrow ? 
 Life's prospects may to-day be bad, 
 
 But will be bright to-morrow.
 
 32 RURi^L RHYMES. 
 
 ^0 the iFtrsit Uuttttfl^ in Spn'ng. 
 
 Pretty, harmless, sportive thing ! 
 On the yellow painted wing, ' 
 Kissing every fragrant flower, 
 Playing in each budding bower, 
 Skimming now the verdant green, 
 Basking in the bright sun-sheen ; 
 Some, when first they see thee fly. 
 Mounting from the earth on high. 
 Chase thee far and wide to kill, 
 Lest to them should chance some ill. * 
 Sure no harm canst thou foretell, 
 Offspring of the mossy dell ; 
 Harbinger of blooming spring ! 
 Grateful news 'tis thine to brino;. 
 Fear not me, then — fly away, 
 Creature of a sunny day !
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 33 
 
 TISSINGTON FESTIVAL. 
 
 Hither, blythsome maidens, bring 
 To Saint Helen's holy well 
 
 All. the flowers of teeming spring, 
 From each lovely knoll and dell — 
 
 Sprinkle wide the yellow daisies, 
 With red campion and may. 
 
 And the pimpernell that raises 
 Its bright head in sunny day ; 
 
 Bring the sweet " Forget-me-not," 
 With its leaves of azure hue. 
 
 Studded with the golden spot. 
 
 Like the stars in Heaven's bright blue. 
 
 Once upon yon pleasant mountains 
 Slept the riv'lets joyful tide, * 
 
 And the ever running fountains 
 
 At their bubbling springs were dried.
 
 34 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Then the brown and scorched plain, 
 Glazed eye, and swollen tongue, 
 
 Figur'd desolation's reign. 
 And with moans the vallies rung. 
 
 God, his mercies e'er bestowing. 
 
 Heard their faint and dying prayer. 
 Led them to this fount, still flowing. 
 
 With a parent's tender care. 
 
 Here each shepherd with his flock 
 Drank this stream which coolly runs 
 
 To them, like water from the rock 
 To Israel's parch'd and wand'ring sons. 
 
 Hasten, then, each swain, and maiden, 
 Come with joy and songs of praise; 
 
 And with nature's bounties laden, 
 To our God a pile we'll raise. 
 
 Hither, hither, maidens, bring, 
 To Saint Helen's holy well, 
 
 All the flowers of teeming spring, 
 From each lovely knoll and dell.
 
 KURAL RHYMES. 35 
 
 Uttri) antr i[i^tUtam* 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 
 By Tyvy's broad, translucid, stream/ 
 
 Poor Lucy used to rove, 
 With many a bright, and happy dream. 
 
 And vision pure of love. 
 
 She thought of him, her faithful one. 
 Torn rudely from her arms. 
 
 To' serve his country, and the throne, 
 'MidAjattles' fierce alarms. 
 
 But fate is sad, and dread its doom. 
 
 In fight her William fell. 
 The grassy sod his only tomb. 
 
 No stone his name to tell. 
 
 Yet still by Tyvy's shining stream. 
 
 Poor Lucy used to rove, 
 But sadly chang'd each happy dream. 
 
 And vision pure of love.
 
 36 RURAL BHYMES. 
 
 Cilgarran's inist-clad castled height. 
 Oft echoed as she sigh'd. 
 
 As through the long and dreary night, 
 Sweet sleep its aid denied. 
 
 She wept not — but with rending sigh, 
 
 A wild and frantic glare 
 Gleam' d madly from her once bright eye, 
 
 And brooded dark despair. 
 
 But ah ! she sought a sad, sad grave, 
 
 Her heart to ease of pain ; 
 She plung'd 'neath Tyvy's shining wave. 
 
 And never sigh'd again. 
 
 They found her by its woody shore, 
 Where many a ripple leapt, 
 
 To kiss that paly cheek once more, 
 Which on that wave had slept. 
 
 On Tyvy's bank she rests her head ; 
 
 No sculptur'd stone is there, 
 But sweetest flow'rets from the mead 
 
 Each year they plant with care. *
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 37 
 
 Those flowers, when dewy eve is nigh, 
 
 Seem smih'ng o'er the plain ; 
 But when the morning breezes sigh, 
 
 Oh ! then they weep again. 
 
 God rest her soul in heav'n above. 
 
 In realms of perfect bliss ; 
 True to her first, her only love, 
 
 Ne'er maiden lov'd like this, 
 
 ®fve IStatttujBi of iiature. 
 
 O ! how sweet, O I how sweet, is a fair morn in May, 
 When the newly-blown flow'rets are spangled with 
 dew; 
 
 And sweet are the meadows at close of the day. 
 When the heaven is glowing with many a hue. 
 
 The earth hath its beauties, and perfumes divine; 
 
 There are stars in the sky, that at eve sparkle bright. 
 There are glow-worms on earth, that resplendently shine, 
 When nature is dark 'neath the curtain of night.
 
 38 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 How beauteous and fair are its loveliest flowers ! 
 
 How sweet are the odours they scatter arouad ! 
 How charming the music of birds in the bowers, 
 
 And plaintive and mild is the zephyr's soft sound I 
 
 But lovelier far than the heaven's rich hue, 
 At eve, when in various colours displayed; 
 
 And fairer than roses, when wash'd by the dew, 
 Are the soft blooming cheeks of my sweet smiling maid. 
 
 More melodious her voice than the zephyr's soft sigh, 
 More sweet than the fragrance that blossoms can shed. 
 
 Is her breath : but oh ! what with the pleasure can vie. 
 To kiss her chaste lips of the coral's deep red ? 
 
 And brighter, far brighter, than stars in the sky, 
 Or glow-worms on earth, tliat so brilliantly shine. 
 
 Are the rays of her merrily laughing blue eye, 
 
 That beam 'neath her eyebrows with lustre divine. 
 
 Should death for his prey ever seize her, I'll die, 
 And leave this sad world — may the thought be forgiven- 
 
 While those orbs shining clearly shall light me on high 
 The dark narrow roadway that leads unto heaven.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 39 
 
 i^la£=i^loi'tttttii; €aU*' 
 
 Come maidens, fair maidens, now breaks tlie faint dawn, 
 Let's baste to the greenwood across the soft lawn ; 
 The lark, blythely singing, awakes with the day, 
 And loudly proclaims, 'tis the sweet first of May. 
 
 Up, up, and in chorus we'll joyfully sing 
 .V welcoming lay to this fair month of spring; 
 For rich are the meadows, and green are the how'rs. 
 And sparkling and sweet are the dew-dripping flow'rs. 
 
 O ! slumber no longer — away let us flee, 
 'Tis a season of friendship, of love and of glee ; 
 All nature is fresh, and the birds with delight 
 Are singing aloud to the morning's gray light; 
 
 Come, come then, arise, we will dance through the grove 
 And revel in pleasures of mirth and of love : 
 Then maidens, up, maidens, haste, haste and away, 
 O would that all life were a sweet first of May !
 
 40 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 ;jii0 dFam'Cia' Ball, 
 
 
 Come Faeries all, both short and tall. 
 
 Away to the grassy dell, 
 And merrily join in the faery ball 
 
 At the sound of the tinkling bell.* 
 Ting-a-ting, ting-a ting. 
 Merrily, merrily ting-a-ting. 
 
 Grasshoppers small, at ev'ning fall, 
 
 Shall shrilly pipe a lay;. 
 Then round and round, till the cock's loud call 
 
 We will dance with elf and fay. 
 Ting-a-ting, &c. 
 
 Sparkling light of glow-worms bright' 
 Shall shine in the deep green ring;* 
 
 Then merrily dance, each fay and sprite, 
 To the sheep-bell's ting-a-ting. ^ 
 Ting-a-ting, &c. 
 
 Drops of dew in bells of blue. 
 
 And warm new milk we'll drink, 
 
 Stolen by elves from the wandering ewe,^ 
 Which fays attendant skink.' 
 Ting-a-tiiig, &c.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 41 
 
 Dance and sin^ round the ring, 
 
 Merrily all the night; 
 Then throngh mire, o'er bush and briar, 
 At dawn we'll take our flight, 
 
 With echoing laugh and merry song, 
 Ting-a-ting, ting-a-tong. 
 
 A LEGEND OP GLASTONBURY. 
 
 The winter's wind blew sharp and cold 
 
 All o'er the snow-clad heath ; 
 An aged man came feebly on. 
 
 And he panted sore for breath. 
 
 He crossed o'er the Brue's dark stream, 
 
 But his step was slow and weak ; 
 Then landed he on Avelon, 
 
 While the wind blew fierce and bleak. 
 
 His staff into the ground he struck, 
 
 And looked him behind ; 
 
 Blithe saw there nought save the drifting snow. 
 
 And he heard but the blustering wind. 
 d3
 
 42 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Then loudly he cried, " Now weary all," ' 
 When the people came around ; 
 
 And rested him 'neath an aged oak. 
 All on the snowy ground. 
 
 He told them how that Christ was born. 
 
 And peace on earth did reign ; 
 How that the bonds of death were broke. 
 
 And men should rise again. 
 
 Full long he pveachM, and the people stay'd. 
 For much did the old man tell, 
 
 Tliough the flaky snow was falling fast, 
 And the chill north wind blew snell. 
 
 His staff it grew and budded there. 
 Throughout each winter day ; 
 
 But best it does at Yule midnight ^ 
 Its virgin flow'rs display. 
 
 And still the wond'ring peasant sees 
 
 It ope its paly flow'r, 
 When the merry rill is hard and still, 
 
 And owns dark winter's power.
 
 RURAL RHYMES 43 
 
 A MAY- DAY CHAKm/ 
 
 "Twas the sweet first of May, and the welkin was clear, 
 While the note of the cuckoo told summer was near. 
 And the lark from the meadows shot up to the sky, 
 To join with the song of the angels on high ; 
 And the dew-drops so bright, which had slept on each 
 
 spray 
 Arose from their couches at break of the day, 
 And leading the perfumes of flow'rets sweet. 
 Went up the first rays of the bright sun to greet. 
 
 Then Anna came forth, with her pretty blue eye, 
 That seem'd to have stolen its hue from the sky ; 
 And e'en to the cheek of this beautiful maid 
 The rose and the lily a tribute had paid. 
 As light as a zephyr, she tripp'd o'er the green. 
 Where the pink-tinted daisy and butter-cup sheen, 
 And on to the hedge-rows, so lovely and bright. 
 That were sparkling and shining in gems of the night. 
 By a smooth silky way 'mongst the leaves of the trail. 
 She sought to trace out the retreat of a snail ;
 
 44 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 And then, with the captive most joyfully laden, 
 Return' d to her cottage this beautiful maiden. 
 Now o'er the wide hearth the white ashes she spread. 
 And a mystical charm was most solemnly said ; 
 She plac'd the smooth reptile to crawl on its way, 
 'Midst the ashes that sprinkled upon the stone lay. 
 When its bright silky windings an H did display. 
 
 " How happy am 1," then cried Anna, dehghted. 
 
 '' My Harry is true, and will qnickly return : 
 " And the heart that was his, and he wantonly slighted, 
 
 " No longer in secret shall anxiously burn. 
 " O ! see him, — he comes, we will wed on the morrow, 
 
 *' And the course of our life ever happily run, 
 " Brightlysparkling with joy andunclouded withsorrow, 
 
 " Like that of a stream, gilded o'er by the sun." 
 
 ®ii^ UeatH of the Uo$i(* 
 
 A rosebud had burst from its prison of green. 
 And bashfully blushing its beauties disclos'd ; 
 
 While it modestly wish'd, that it never had seen 
 The sun-beam, that thus all those beauties expos'd.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 46 
 
 The butterfly came on the light painted wing, 
 At the shrine of this beauty his homage to pay, 
 
 And the nightingale, wooing, did touchingly sing 
 A tale of its love at the close of the day. 
 
 Each fluttering insect, the child of the grove, 
 Disappointed was winging its way in despair , 
 
 But a bee, that all summer had revell'd in love. 
 Unceasingly then did his passion declare. 
 
 Now the warmth of the season began to unfold 
 The beauties that, hidden, this rose-bud possest ; 
 
 And blushingly thus it unconsciously told 
 
 The flame that had secretly burn'd in its breast. 
 
 When the bee, ever ready, impatiently flew, 
 Like the arrow of Cupid, and enter'd its heart ; 
 
 And the innocent rose to its sorrow soon knew 
 
 That the bee, with its love, would a pang oft impart. 
 
 Then this flow'ret droop'd down ; but ahouri with care ' 
 Distill'd all the soul, that its pure heart could give, 
 
 For by mem'ry she knew, if the sweetness were there, 
 The rosebud again in its beauties would live.
 
 40 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 ^he dFttjEft ilrtmroisc in Spttng. 
 
 I. 
 
 O ! primrose so pale, 
 Sweet child of the vale ! 
 'Tis with joy that I welcome ihy bloom ; 
 Thou seemest to say. 
 As thou op'st to the day. 
 That no longer shall winter its terrors display. 
 
 And that fresh spring has vanquished the gloom. 
 
 So in childhood, life's barren and desolate way 
 
 (While our warm youthful fancy is dreaming) 
 
 Seems nought but a cloudless and bright summer's day. 
 With many a fair flower teeming. 
 
 II. 
 
 If winter again 
 
 Should entomb the green plain, 
 And the cold nipping winds should rush by, 
 'Neath the snow buried deep, 
 Each green herb would sleep, 
 And I then should sadly and mournfully weep. 
 For thou, my poor primrose would'st die.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 47 
 
 'Tis thus in life's prime, when we're happy and gay, 
 And live without thought of the morrow. 
 
 Death's withering hand may soon snatch us away. 
 Or clothe us in garments of sorrow. 
 
 ^Ii0 Hatrg-ijirlif/ 
 
 Ah, little Ladybird, now have I caught thee; 
 
 Long on each trembling leaf, green bush, and spray, 
 Far in the meadows around have I sought thee, 
 
 So stop, little wand'rer, nor fly yet away. 
 
 Where is the youth whom my form once delighted ? 
 
 Pledg'd was his false heart and proffer'd his love; 
 Oh ! he is gone, and my vows he has slighted, 
 
 Like gales in the evening which woo the dark grove. 
 
 Fly to the North, where 'tis boisterous and blowing. 
 Fly to the South, with the soft breezes blest, 
 
 Fly to the East or the West, warmly glowing. 
 Fly where the youth is that I love the best.
 
 48 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Tell him that eyes may be shiniug more brightly 
 Than those of the maiden he once lov'd to view ; 
 
 Tell him that damsels more lovely and sprightly 
 
 May charm for a time, but will not prove more true. 
 
 And when, depress'd, with deep sorrow he's sighing, 
 Or dark clouds of life its sad troubles display. 
 
 Like the bird of the summer so joyfully flying, 
 
 When the summer is gone, they'll have fled far away. 
 
 ®fie CttCftOO/ 
 
 1. 
 
 In the woodlands far and near 
 I love the cuckoo's note to hear 
 On an April's showery day. 
 When he wakes his early lay,* 
 
 And charms the dale 
 
 And verdant vale 
 With pleasing soft cuckoo, cuckoo !
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 49 
 
 2. 
 
 'Tis lovelier far in jovial May, 
 
 As he's singing night and day, 
 To hear his sad and liquid note 
 Gently on the breezes float, 
 
 And fill the dale 
 
 And flowery vale 
 With plaintive soft cuckoo, cuckoo. 
 
 3. 
 
 But in warm and sunny June 
 
 Sadly changes he his tune. 
 Then is heard his song no more, 
 Melancholy a* before ; 
 
 But harsh and shrill 
 
 Through grove, o'er hill, 
 He hoarsely pipes, cuckoo, cuckoo. 
 
 4. 
 
 Seldom sings he in July, 
 
 But prepares away to fly. 
 And when August's sun has shone 
 His voice is mute, the cuckoo gone ; 
 And then in vale, 
 * Or scorched dale, 
 
 No more is heard, cuckoo, cuckoo. 
 
 £
 
 .50 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 I. 
 
 There sings a bird in the dewy vale, 
 
 Sweetly through the summer's night ; 
 It is the soothing nightingale 
 With his downy breast upon a thorn,' 
 Waiting till glows the eastern light 
 On earth, and shows the rising morn, 
 Then this warbler of the dark 
 Yields his strain to the noisy lark. . 
 
 II. 
 
 Tlie lark is up with his merry lay, 
 
 More sweet than that of the bird of night, 
 Warl)lii:g a welcome roundelay. 
 So shrill that none with his can vie ; 
 
 And mounting far beyond the sight, 
 Carols aloft in the cloudless sky. 
 Thus is nature ever gay, 
 Music bv night, and music by day.
 
 RUBAL RHYMES. 51 
 
 The Misteltoe is the bough for me. 
 
 That grows aloft in the okl oak tree. 
 
 Braving the winter's stormy sky, 
 
 Caring for nought as it hangs' on high, 
 
 I love its snowy branch to see 
 
 In the hall of Christmas revelry. 
 
 Quaffing oft the smiling glass, 
 There would I kiss the blushing lass, 
 Plucking each time a berry white ' 
 From the misteltoe bough on a Christmas night. 
 
 Where is the pleasure can vie with this ? 
 Snatching full oft a hard-won kiss, 
 Drinking the nectar from rosy lips, 
 As the bee from flowers the honey sips 1 
 Would. that I might for ages live, 
 .\nd that life for ever such joys could give. 
 Quaffing oft the smiling glass, 
 Then would I kiss the struggling lass, 
 Plucking each time a berry white 
 From the misteltoe bough on a Christmas night.
 
 52 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Full many an eye is weeping, 
 
 Full many a heart is sad. 
 For the maiden that lies sleeping, 
 
 In death's cold garments clad. 
 
 No stone shall mark her dwelling, 
 Beneath the damp sod now ; 
 
 But flow'rcts sweetly smelling 
 Upon her grave shall grow. 
 
 Each spring with beauties sliining 
 Shall see their buds renew' d, 
 
 The rose with lilies twining 
 Shall on her grave be strew'd. 
 
 When all have own'd death's power. 
 That now are mourning here, 
 
 What hand will strew a flower ? 
 What eye will shed a tear?
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 53 
 
 What boots it then the knowing 
 
 Where the maiden rests her head ; 
 When tears have ccas'd their flowing, 
 
 And all her friends are dead 
 
 r- 
 
 Her name with them shall perish, 
 
 Her beauties here shall lie ; 
 But angels bright shall cherish 
 -The soul which soars on high. 
 
 Zht Eobf i^ttot, 
 
 Fair Sally one noonday from market returning 
 Came slowly along through the cool shady grove, 
 
 When her bright roving eye, ev'ry object discerninii', 
 Saw sleeping the youth that had slighted her love. 
 
 She stoop'd down beside him, and quickly imtying 
 The blue worsted band that encircled her knee. 
 
 With his in a love-knot she bound it and sighing. 
 Repeated this spell as she knelt 'neath the tree.
 
 54 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 " Three times a true love knot with charms I am twisiing. 
 
 " As firm as the knot may our love e'er endure ." 
 Then she hung it above vvrhere the youth was reclining 
 
 To make, when he woke, the charm still more secure. 
 
 Now the twig it was weak, and the bough,slightly shaking, 
 Soon brought the true love knot and charm to the ground, 
 Which startled the youth from his sleep, and awaking 
 Bewilder'd he gaz'd for a moment around, 
 
 Affrighted she fled, but he follow'd — " how shocking !" 
 And ere from the grove she had hastily flown, 
 
 Lo ! o'er her sUm ancle, the unconfin'd stocking, 
 RoU'd loosely and catching, it tumbled her down. 
 
 Then gently he raised her, with kindness enquiring 
 If she from her fall any hurt had sustained. 
 
 When rememb'ringthe charm, and her hot temper firing, 
 To give him an answer she proudly disdain'd. 
 
 " Farewell, pretty Sally," he said as he left her, 
 " A spirit so haughty I ne'er could endure;" 
 
 'Twas thus that her pride of a sweetheart bereft her, 
 For no charms, but her own, could a lover secure.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 55 
 
 OR 
 THE TWENTY-NINTH OF MAY. 
 
 Come, come with a noise, ray merry, merry boys, 
 
 To the greenwood come away ; 
 Bring each his love to the leafy grove. 
 
 'Tis the twenty-ninth of May. * 
 
 The sun shines now on the old oak's bough, 
 
 Where for ages long he has stood. 
 While close to liis side, clings his ivy bride, 
 
 Deep, deep in the merry wood. 
 
 Our brave King Charles, from base base karles, ' 
 
 Was hid in his branches wide ; 
 The foes came nigh, but they passed by. 
 
 And he frown'd on them with pride. 
 
 Then hurrah for the oak, the brave brave oak. 
 With his golden apples bound ; ' 
 
 In jovial lays, we will sing his praise 
 While the merry bells ring round.
 
 66 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 And garlands sweet of flow' rets meet 
 
 Shall deck his branches fair ; 
 That while they live, these flowers may give 
 
 A fragrant incense there. 
 
 Each lad with his lass, o'er the green green grass. 
 
 Shall dance 'till the evening fall, 
 And foot it gay, on this festive day. 
 
 Beneath the old oak tall. 
 
 No jewels rare shall deck their hair; 
 
 But his fruit with ivy band 
 Form a crown most meet, for a damsel sweet, 
 
 Of Britain's happy land. 
 
 When foes shall assail, our sea-girt isle, 
 
 He will leave the quiet wood. 
 And rush with his might to the dreadful fight, 
 
 The lord of the briny flood. 
 
 Then sing with a noise, ray merry merry boys 
 
 A song for the oak on high ; 
 He dreads no foes, and where'er he goes 
 
 He gains the victory.
 
 RURAL RHYMES. T)' 
 
 itltirsiummer'si (Bbc»' 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 The mystic eve of good Saint John 
 Closed on a day in which had shone, 
 With all its fire, the sun's broad ray, 
 That mark'd his hot sestival way ; 
 While deeply drank the thirsty ground 
 The dew that heaven diffused around ; 
 And merry songsters, on the wing. 
 Their hymns of ev'ning seem'd to sing. 
 Whilst sportive zephyrs through the glade 
 With many a faery murmur play'd, 
 And nature joined her varied lays 
 To chaunt the great Creator's praise. 
 
 'Twas on this eve, when many a charm 
 -Is wrought, that bodeth good and harm, 
 At Felsted's village, neat and small, * 
 Whose church-tower rises gray and tall. 
 That many an anxious maiden tried 
 The charm, which should her fate decide :
 
 58 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 And on this eve they used to tell, 
 
 By Satan's aid, and magic spell, 
 
 When holy portals, opening wide, 
 
 Let forth a shadowy living tide, 
 
 Of those, who, though in youth's fresh bloom, 
 
 Must seek that year an early tomb.^ 
 
 Still stands an ancient dwelling there. 
 Of strange device and carving rare, 
 Now partly lost 'neath patch and paint. 
 Retaining still a legend quaint 
 In letters old with grand parade. 
 Which tell by whom ' thys hovse' was ' mayde. 
 
 'Twas on this eve, that from its hearth, 
 Burst long and loud the shout of mirth ; 
 For then each anxious maiden learnt 
 Her sweetheart by the nut which burnt * 
 With brilliant light, and lambent flame. 
 That proved his love would burn the same. 
 But soon that sound of joy was chang'd. 
 When on the hearth three bowls were rang'd ; ' 
 The first of water fresh and pure, 
 A maiden sign of marriage sure;
 
 KURAL RHYMES. • 59 
 
 Tile second foully fiU'd then stood. 
 An emblem sad of widowhood ; 
 The third was empty, and its fate 
 Was ne'er to know the marriage state. 
 Blindfold each damsel eager strove 
 To learn the secret of her love ; 
 Three times repeated, three times there 
 The bowls were changed with silent care ; 
 And wild the shriek rung echoing round. 
 When one the widow-bucket found. 
 But louder was the cry, to tell 
 Whose lot the empty bowl befell ; 
 And many a heart, that once was glad. 
 Was now dejected, low, and sad ; 
 For superstition holds such power 
 O'er some weak minds at such an hour. 
 
 But there was one, a lovely lass. 
 Whose form no sculpture could surpass. 
 With wanton ringlets, glossy brown, 
 That o'er her neck in waves were thrown ; 
 Arch'd eye-brows rose with jetty fringe 
 Above her cheeks' soft rosy tinge,
 
 60 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 (That nature faintly scatter'd o'er,. 
 And almost made one wish it more,) 
 Which in their beauty seem'd to lie 
 Ripening beneath her sunny eye. 
 Fair Emma, heroine of this lay, 
 As lovely as a summer's day, 
 Three times had tried this magic spell, 
 x\nd thrice thejirst her lot befell, 
 Which made her guileless heart beat high 
 With warm and girlish exstacy; 
 But love had ne'er within her breast 
 An undisputed sway possess'd ; 
 Nor had she yet one youth preferr'd 
 From those whose vows she oft had heard. 
 But now, impatient, she would see 
 Him, who her future spouse should be, 
 And by a charm, that well she knew, 
 Resolv'd that night his form to view. 
 
 When each closed eye unconscious slept. 
 She silent from her chamber crept, 
 And donn'd a hat of lowly crown, 
 Whose spieading brim w^as fastened down,
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 61 
 
 With modest, unassuming grace, 
 Which o-ave an archness to her face. 
 
 There is a rich and mossy dell, 
 Where loves the nightingale to dwell, 
 'Twixt Camsix Farm and Hartford End, 
 Through which a stream is seen to wend, 
 'Midst trees that rise on either bank, 
 With reeds and rushes coarse and dank. 
 And steals along so still and slow, 
 That one can scarcely mark its flow. 
 Save by the leaves that on it lie. 
 In Autumn, ever floating by : 
 As when, with youth's bright sunshine gay, 
 We mark the friends that pass away. 
 And only think, when they are gone, 
 That unperceiv'd thus time steals on. 
 
 'Twas on this stream the moonbeams wan 
 Were sleeping, as it gently ran ; 
 And all was bright, save where the shade 
 The dwarfish pollards' forms display'd, 
 Wliich cast across the placid tide 
 A sombre darkness black and wide ;
 
 62 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 Whilst stars above seem'd pitying eyes 
 
 Of angels, beaming from the skies, 
 
 And shedding purest tears of dew. 
 
 The failings of mankind to view. 
 
 'Twas here she came by path and balk, 
 
 To her a favorite ov'ning walk. 
 
 And now she heard in all its sport 
 
 The revel of the Faery Court ; 
 
 And found in every sound, with fright. 
 
 The mystic terrors of the night : 
 
 It seem'd to her, some wizard hand 
 
 O'er heav'n and earth now held command. 
 
 'Twas midnight, and with fearful heed 
 
 She cast around the hempen seed ; 
 
 And thrice the charm she trembling said. 
 
 When screeching past an owlet fled. 
 
 And from an oak's mysterious shade 
 
 A ghastly form, in white array' d. 
 
 Stole forth, and thus it cried :— 
 " Rais'd by thy magic, by charm, and by spell, 
 " Listen, fair maid, to the words that T tell : 
 " To-morrow consent with a lover to wed, 
 " Or midnight shall robe thee a bride for the dead."
 
 RURAL RHYMES. 63 
 
 Now with a frantic bound she rush'd; 
 Her heart beat thick, her voice was hush'd, 
 By fear awhile, then rose on high, 
 To wild, unearthly, piercing cry. 
 
 A wand 'ring form was seen to stray 
 
 Within that vale for many a day ; 
 
 The restless flashing of her eye. 
 
 The idiot laugh, the deep-drawn sigh, 
 
 The snaky tresses , once so fair, 
 
 The lank, lean lingers twining there, 
 
 The once warm cheek, now cold and sunk. 
 
 All show'd the mind had poison drunk. 
 
 And left of Emma but this wrack, 
 
 A wild and senseless maniac. 
 
 In Felsted's holy burial ground 
 
 Was .seen a simple grassy mound. 
 
 O'er which a youth despairing knelt, 
 
 With whose worn form had sorrow dealt ; 
 
 And deep it rankled in his heart. 
 
 To think that through the thoughtless art,
 
 64 RURAL RHYMES. 
 
 By which on that sad eve he strove 
 To gain the beauteous Emma's leve, 
 He thus her guileless mind should blast, 
 And o'er her death's black mantle cast. 
 Upon this grave a sweet plant grew. 
 That once this maiden lov'd to view; 
 For he had plac'd its beauties there. 
 And foster' d it with tender care ; 
 As what to those we love was dear. 
 With sacred fondness we revere. 
 It seem'd that he but linger'd still 
 To guard this lonely flow'r from ill. 
 But once a child, in wanton play. 
 While roving on its happy way, 
 Pluck'd from the stem its blossom fair, 
 And broke the charm that held him there. 
 
 THE END.
 
 NOTE S. 
 
 Stanton Harcourt, p. 1.(1) On the south side of Stanton 
 Karcourt Church is a slab with the following inscription : 
 " Near this place lie the bodies of 
 John Hewit and Sarah Drew, 
 An industrious young man, and 
 Virtuous maiden of this parish, 
 
 Contracted in marriage ; 
 Who, being with many others at harvest 
 Work, were both in one instant killed 
 By lightning, on the last day of July, I7I8." 
 In telling the affecting tale of these lovers, the most suitable style 
 is the simple and unadorned, and it is from this impression that the 
 names of the parties have been omitted, as it would perhaps have 
 offended the poetical ear to have listened to the common place appel- 
 lations of English peasants ; and at the same time it would have 
 entirely destroyed the simplicity of the story, if the oft-used names 
 of classic pastorals had been introduced. It has, therefore, been my 
 endeavour in this narrative to avoid falling under the censure which 
 -Mr. Burchell, in the Vicar of VV^akefield (chap, viii.), passes, perhaps 
 too severely, upon Ovid and Gay, by preserving the diction plain 
 and unpretending. 
 
 (2) These signs have been drawn from actual observation ; and 
 those who are at all accustomed to take notice of what may be termed 
 the instinctive feelings of animals, must have repeatedly remarked 
 that these are really indications of a change in the weather. 
 
 (3) It is a well-known superstition that the croaking of the raven 
 is the forerunner of some " ill luck." To this Gay alludes in one 
 of his fables, where, with his usual power of satire, he shows the 
 absurdity of this, as well as all similar fears. He says, speaking in 
 the character of an old dame, against whom every sign of misfortune 
 seemed to have conspired — 
 
 "• That raven on yon left-hand oak, 
 (Curse on his ill-betiding croak) 
 Bodes me no good." 
 This is similarly expressed by a liatin poet in the following line : 
 '' Ssepe sinistra cava prsdixit ab ilice comix."
 
 66 NOTES. 
 
 And Shakspeare, in his tragedy of Macbeth, says : 
 
 " The raven himself is hoarse, 
 That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
 Under my battlements." 
 
 Faerv Song, p. 9. (1) — It was formerly, and in some parts of 
 England is still, believed, that at night the Fairies visit the different 
 farm-houses, and cottages in certain spots, and there play their 
 wanton gambols till the morning, not generally showing themselves 
 to man : but if it chanced that they were seen, the mortal who had 
 had a view of them was sure to die. " They are Fairies," says 
 FalstafF. " he who looks on them shall die." These beings were 
 attached to particular places, which they were extremely unwilling to 
 quit. Somebody (I think Scott, in his " Demonology and Witch- 
 craft,") makes mention of a Fairy who was heard (as it was re- 
 ported) wailing and shrieking about a certain spot, which he had 
 been compelled to leave : at length however he ceased to frequent 
 Ins ancient haunt, and his lamentations were heard no more. 
 
 (2) The nightingale has been represented by most poets as pos- 
 sessing a sorrowful note ; this they have copied from the classics, 
 who derived it from the story of Philomela, rather than from the 
 study of Nature. Although there are occasionally plaintive touches 
 in its voice, yet it is a melodious, and by no means a melancholy 
 bird. 
 
 (3) The Will-o'-the-wisp is a great source of wonder and dread 
 to the country people, who generally mutter a prayer, on seeing it, 
 that they may not be wiled away by its fascinating influence. The 
 poet Burns, in his " Address to the De'il," thus speaks of it : 
 
 " An' oft your moss-traversing spunkies 
 Decoy the wight that late an' drunk is ; 
 The bleezin, curst, mischievous monkeys 
 
 Delude his eyes. 
 Till in some miry slough he sunk is, 
 Ne'er mair to rise." 
 1 his may have occasionally happened, but such accidents are in all 
 cases to be attributed more to the spirits in the head, than to the 
 spirit of the marsh. 
 
 That there is such an appearance is certain, but it is philosophi- 
 cally accounted for as an igneous exhalation from low and boggy 
 grounds. 
 
 (4) Previously to retiring to rest it was customary to leave a bowl 
 or dish of milk to regale the Fairies at their midnight call. This, of 
 course, was never found untouched, though most probably it became 
 the repast of a whiskered goblin, who spread more terror amongst the 
 micey than the human race ; and to whom Milton's description ot 
 "the hairy lubbar fiend" is much more applicable than to those 
 " green-clad merry wanderers of the night." 
 
 (5) Cleanliness was strictly enjoined by the Fairies; and if the 
 servants were slovenly, or the dairymaid forgot to place their supper 
 for them, they pinched them black and blue, pulled off the bed-
 
 NOTES. 67 
 
 clothes, and left them en chemise de nuit, with (if it were winter) 
 the frosty-headed December peeping in at the window, much to the 
 diversion of their tormentors. 
 
 (C) When the maidens were neat and tidy, and any little kind- 
 ness or attention shown, they conferred rewards in the shape of silver 
 pennies, which were usually left in their shoe. " Grant that the 
 sweete Fairies may nightly put money into your shoes, and sweep 
 your house cleane," was one of the good wishes of olden time. In 
 the Leverian Museum there was some faery money thus described, — 
 '• Orbicular sparry bodies, commonly called Fairies' money, from 
 the banks of the Tyne in Northumberland." There is an old 
 ballad which says, in allusion to this superstition — 
 
 " And though they sweepe their hearthes no lesse 
 
 Than maids were wont to doe, 
 Yet who of late for cleanlinesse 
 Finds sixpence in her shoe ?" 
 
 (7) Shoon is a word anciently signifying shoes, and still in vogue 
 in the northern parts of England. It is used by Shakspeare, — 
 
 " Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, 
 For they are thrifty honest men." 
 
 (8) The Fairies would sweep and clean the room for those who 
 happened to be in their favor, and execute various other little ser- 
 vices, which, if done at all, were most likely privately performed 
 by the maidens' sweethearts. 
 
 (9) In Wales, where the belief in them is more prevalent than in 
 other places, there is still the Can y Tylwyth Teg, or Fairies' song. 
 
 RoBix RED-BREAST, p. 11. (1) This may justly be said of 
 the robin, for there is a very prevalent superstition that some mis- 
 fortune will ensue if this bird should wantonly be injured. No 
 reason can be given for this belief, but those who entertain it, can 
 only account for it by saying that they had it from their fathers. 
 In many parts, and particularly in Sunderland, it is supposed that 
 when the robin is seen merry, and chirping about a house, it bodes 
 " good luck and prosperity ;" but if it is melancholy and pining, it 
 announces a death or some calamity. 
 
 (2) No one can forget that sweetly pretty, ancient ballad of the 
 " Children in the Wood," restored by Dr. Percy. 
 
 May-Day SoxG, p. 14. (1) Mali Inductio ; an ancient custom 
 for the priest and people of country villages to go in procession to 
 some adjoining wood on a May-day morn, and return in a kiml of 
 triumph with a Maypole, boughs, flowers, garlands, and other 
 tokens of Spring. This May game, or rejoicing at the coming of 
 this season, was for a long time observed, and still is in some parts 
 of England ; but it was thought that there was so much heathen 
 vanity in it, that it was condemned and prohibited within the diocese 
 of Lincoln, by Bishop Grosthead, a. d. 1235. — The ."Maypole 
 vas a tall wooden mast, placed in the centre of a village green : it
 
 68 NOTES. 
 
 stood there throughout the year, and on May-day was decorated 
 with ribbons, flags, and garlands ; beneath it 
 " the lady of the May 
 Sits in an arbour (on a holiday) 
 Built by the Maypole, when the jocund swains 
 Dance with their maidens to the bagpipe's strains." 
 
 Browne''s Pastorals. 
 (2j This was one of the customs amongst rustic lovers, by which 
 they signified their attachment ; they tied a ribbon into a triple knot, 
 repeating at the same time a charm, thus expressed by Gay : — 
 " Three times this true love-knot I tie secure, 
 Firm be the knot, firm may our love endure." 
 Virgil alludes to a similar custom in his " Pharraaceutria," 
 Eel. VIII :— 
 
 " Necte tribus nodis ternos, Amarylli, colores ; 
 Necte, Amarylli, modo ; et Veneris, die, vincula necto." 
 The number three seems to have been the favorite in all ages ; 
 and with the Romans it was so, because they considered it the most 
 perfect, having a beginning, middle, and end. 
 
 The Milkmaid of Aylesbury Vale, p. 19. (1) The 
 iMountain Ash, or Wiggen Tree, as it is called in the north, is 
 deemed by the vulgar a preventive against witchcraft ; they say that 
 its power is so great, that the smallest twig lying across the path of 
 a witch, will effectually stop her progress. When offended, so 
 severe was the revenge of these beldames supposed to be, that it was 
 considered necessary to have large quantities of this wood as a safe- 
 guard. Hence we find that the milkmaid's pail is made of the 
 Wiggen tree, to prevent her milk from being soured by those agents 
 of Satan ; as also the churn staff, to secure what is called in a tech- 
 nical phrase, " the coming of the butter :" the failure of which 
 would have the effect of making the temper of the dairy-lass more 
 sour than the milk itself. The shafts of pitchforks, and other 
 utensils used in stables, were formed of this wood, in order to guard 
 against the possibility of the witches playing tricks with the cattle. 
 Almost every old lady, some fifty or sixty years ago, was accustomed 
 to place a branch of this seldom-failing antidote over the head of her 
 bed ; while during the day she carried in her capacious pocket a 
 hare's foot, to arm herself against all attacks, buried " full fathom 
 five " among a variety of copper tokens, enormous two-penny pieces, 
 large smelling bottle, thimble, scissors, spectacles, pieces of wax, 
 house-wife, sampler, huge enamelled snuff-box, and a variety of 
 other articles too numerous to mention, appurtenant to " a good old 
 English lady all of the olden time." 
 
 The word wiggen appears to have been derived from the Saxon 
 ■tvibhfgtln of wj, sacred, or wihed., an altar, and biggin, or bitgan, 
 to build, q. d. sacred buildings : this may be quite sufficient for 
 giving the character here mentioned to this tree, as witches, like 
 devils, were supposed to have no influence over that which is sacred. 
 
 (2) Lawn did not eriginally mean merely the open pieci of grass
 
 NOTES. 69 
 
 before a gentleman's country-house, but it was, according to Blount, 
 " an open field without wood," and was anciently spelt hiund. 
 
 (3) It was customary formerly, and tliere still remain some slight 
 vestiges of it in some parts of England, that on JMay-day, and the 
 iive or six following days, the milkmaids should go " a-maying," 
 drest very smartly, carrying with them a number of shining vessels 
 pertaining to the dairy, of which they formed a pyramid, adorned 
 with ribbons and flowers. This pyramid is borne upon the head, 
 instead of the ordinary milk-pail, and dancing from door to door in 
 the village or town, they received some little present at every house. 
 "• On the first of this month (May}," says the Spectator, " we see 
 the milkmaid exerting herself in a most sprightly manner under a 
 pyramid of silver tankards, and, like the virgin Tarpeia, oppressed 
 by tlie costly ornaments which her benefactors bestow upon her." 
 
 The Lover's Lament, p. 22. fl) The graves in church- 
 wards were formerly decked with flowers, which were renewed and 
 cultivated at certain times in the year. It cannot but be regretted 
 that so pleasing and highly poetical a custom should have fallen into 
 disuse : but times are sadly changed, and as our manners become 
 nio'o polished and refined, our feelings seem less so. If this custom 
 were continued, it would form a far more impressive memento mori 
 tlian the ghastly death's head and cross bones which grin upon us 
 at every step. One instance of this beautiful tribute to the memory 
 of the departed is still to be seen at Penshurst in Kent ; and a few 
 others are occasionally to be met with ainong the mountains of 
 Wales. The flowers planted on the grave were always emblematical 
 of the character of the deceased ; thus the maiden has here chosen 
 the red rose, which signifies the goodness and benevolence of her 
 lover. The rosemary is selected for remembrance ; thus Ophelia 
 says, " There's rosemary ^ that's for remembrance ; pray, love, 
 remember." The daisy represented the purity of the lover's affec- 
 tion ; and lastly, the yew also is chosen, which, being an evergreen, 
 was always used. 
 
 " The distinguish'd yew is ever seen, 
 
 Unchang'd its branch, and permanent its green." — Prior. 
 K.2) The lich owl is derived from the Saxon word lice, a dead 
 body. 
 
 (3) These einens of death are so common as lo require no expla- 
 nation. The circumstance of the sounds being harsh, and contrary 
 to the general melodiousness of nature, is sufficient to impress on 
 the minds of the ignorant a superstitious awe, as such persons are 
 ever ready to refer every thing to the wonderful and supernatural. 
 
 (4) This harmless little insect, whose ticking has alarmed so 
 many, is a diminutive beetle, inhabiting walls ; not being able to 
 utter any sounds, it announces its situation to its mate by noisy 
 taps: 
 
 " The horrid sprite — this harbinger of fate, 
 Is but an insect tapping for its mate."
 
 70 NOTES 
 
 Hedingham Castle, p. 25. (I) Sible and Castle Hedingham 
 are two villages situated in what has been deservedly called the 
 garden of Essex, from the richness and luxuriance of the soil, the 
 high state of cultivation, the agreeable variety of hill and dale, and 
 the number of hop-grounds in that neighbourhood. The view of 
 the castle, as here described, is from the grounds of a pleasant resi- 
 dence at the former of these hamleis, about a mile from the other ; 
 a place dear to me as the early dwelling of my parents, and as a spot 
 to which they are still attached. The small rivulet called the Colne 
 is its boundary ; and the scenery which presents itself during a 
 walk along the stream, forms the original of this picture. 
 
 (2) The muscadel, a perfumed wine, was drunk at the OTsil/e, or 
 high table, while those of the lower table were supplied with the 
 common wassail bowl, filled with a btverage called latnh's-wnol. 
 
 (3) Imagination has here conjured up the scenes of its former 
 splendour ; and the fancy, aided by the following passage from 
 Inglis's Tour in the Tyrol (1833), raised the charm about it, which 
 the accompanying air is meant to convey to the reader : 'There 
 are some other relics of the days of chivalry preserved here (the 
 Castle of Ambrasj, attractive not only to antiquarians, but to all 
 who are interested by the narration of feudal times, minstrelsy, and 
 song ; and this comprehends all the lovers of poetry and romance. 
 Of this description of relics is one of the harps of the minstrels, 
 with one of the strings yet unbroken." 
 
 (4) The Crusaders, a favourite theme of the Bards and Trouba- 
 dours of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. 
 
 To THE First Butterfly IN Spring, p. 32. (I) Of the 
 
 various kinds of butterflies the one here alluded to is the earliest, 
 which is called the sulphur or yellow butterfly. 
 
 (2) It is still a superstition in the '\rest of England, that unless 
 a person kills the first butterfly he sees in the year, some " bad luck" 
 will befall him. It is therefore not uncommon to see the country 
 people chasing one in order to destroy it. 
 
 Well Flowering, p. 33. ( 1 ) Decorating wells is a custom 
 which can be traced back to a very early period. At the village of 
 Tissington, in Derbyshire, it is still kept up on Holy Thursday. 
 The shepherds, dressed in their best attire, the garlands of flowers 
 woven into mottos and devices, the ringing of the bells, and the 
 bands of music which parade throughout the day, form a highly 
 interesting picture. After church the minister leads a procession, 
 and reads a portion of the service at the well, and the day is finished 
 in rural sports and pastimes. 
 
 (2) How the custom called "Well Flowering" originated, 
 scarcely any one in Tissington can tell. It is however affirmed by 
 some, that at a very remote period the springs and rills of the sur- 
 rounding country were from some cause entirely dried up, and that
 
 NOTES. 71 
 
 the people who lived in the neighbourhood, after wandering for a 
 lono' time in search of water, found the stream round which the vil- 
 lage of TisSington was built ; and that the anniversary of this event 
 was celebrated by a festival of this kind. 
 
 Lucy and William, p. 23. (1) The river Tyvy in Cardi- 
 ganshire, runs in a broad stream between sloping hills, which are 
 about two hundred feet in height, and entirely covered with wood 
 from the water's brink to their summits. This sylvan scene is only 
 once broken by a lofty, naked, and projecting rock, on which stands 
 the romantic ruins of Cilgarran Castle. 
 
 (2) " The village swains and their lasses still hold sacred an 
 hour to commemorate Lucy's unshaken affection for her William, 
 by annually gathering flowers, and strewing them over her grave" — 
 Welsh Tours. 
 
 May-Mo itviNG Call, p. 39. (1) And who would not "go 
 a-Maying," if it were not that modern polUcsse considered it 
 vulvar ? This is one of the merry customs of old England, which 
 gave our damsels countenances as fresh as the day. But all our 
 ladies have subjected themselves to Herrick's appellation of " sweet 
 slug-a-beds." Formerly, from the prince to the peasant, all went 
 out "on May-day morning to fetch in May." The porter in 
 Shakspeare's Henry the Eighth thinks it as impossible to drive the 
 populace from the gate, " unless he sweep them away with cannon," 
 as it would be to 
 
 " i\lake 'em sleep 
 On May-day mornh.g ; which will never be." 
 He however seems to have been mistaken, for the only remnant of 
 this custom which is now to be found, is in some few places, where 
 the young men of the village gather May-boughs, which they place 
 under their true love's window, singing nt the same time an ancient 
 ditty, from which the following is an extract : — 
 
 " The moon shines bright, as the stars give a light, 
 
 A little before it is day ; 
 So God bless you all, both great and small. 
 
 And send you a joyful May." — Hone's Every Day Book. 
 The garlands are now faded, the ftlay-poles abolished, and the 
 lasses sleep unmolested by " a merry call;" while the rising sun 
 Monopolizes those delights, which our forefathers used to share with 
 him. O, that we could sing with Herrick, 
 " The IMay-pole is up. 
 Now give me the cup. 
 I'll drink to the garlands around it ; 
 But first unto those. 
 Whose hands did compose 
 The glory of flowers, that crown'd it."
 
 12 NOTES. 
 
 The Fairies' Ball, p. 40. (1) It is said that the Fairies 
 were capable of assuming any size, according to the business they 
 had to perforin. See Godwin's Lives of the Necromancers. 
 
 (-2) Vide note (5). 
 
 (3> These little beings are fabled to make use of the glow-worm 
 as their lamp :^ 
 
 *' And twenty glow-worms shall our lanthoms be." 
 
 (4) Dancing in a ring was one of the favourite amosements of 
 the Fairies ; and it was considered dangerous to step within these 
 circles, as many stories are told of fatal consequences to those who 
 have violated these magic spots ; and those who thus interrupted 
 their festivities were sometimes changed into the most unaccountable 
 shapes ; thus FalstafF " prays heaven to defend him from that 
 Welsh Fairy, lest he should transform him into a piece of cheese." 
 These faery rings or bright circles of grass, which have been long 
 the wonder of the naturalist, and terror of the ignorantt are now 
 acknowledged to be nothing more than a sort of mushroom bed, 
 formed by the dung of cattle lying undisturbed. On this a tuft of 
 rank and weedy grass springs up, in the midst of which appear the 
 
 ftLiis'i for a while, which, perishing in due time, form the nucleus 
 of the faery ring. By this means a round green spot of grass is 
 left, which separates in the middle, and is increased every year by a 
 fresh crop of fungi growing on the outer margin of the circle, 
 ■which often augments it to a considerable size, whilst the centre is 
 composed of common grass. 
 
 (5) One of the tricks of the Fairies was, at night to steal a sheep's 
 bell from the neck of a leader, thereby enticing the shepherd (who 
 fancied that he was following a lost weatherj into every kind of 
 mischief. 
 
 (G) Another prank was to milk the cows and ewes, thereby de- 
 priving the lamb of its nourishment and the milkmaid of her due. 
 This service was executed by the elves, who were a sort of under 
 Fairy. 
 
 (7) To skink (from scenean. Sax ) to serve drink. This verb 
 is now quite obsolete, but yet its derivative has been used by a 
 comparatively modern poet, 
 
 " The reconciler bowl went round the board, 
 
 Which, emptied, the rude skinker still restor'd." — Dryden, 
 
 The Holy Thorn, p. 41. (1) This is said to have been the 
 origin of "• Weary-all Hill," which is situated on the south-west 
 side of Glastonbury, where Joseph of Arimathea rested with his 
 companions, and first preached Christianity in England. Glaston- 
 bury was called by Drayton "■ the isle of ancient Avelon ;" and so 
 it really was before the moors were drained, as it was originally 
 surrounded by water. 
 
 (2) Although many wonders have been attached to this holy 
 
 thorn, to which so much reverence is paid, it is, in fact, nothing 
 
 C I aiore than one of the varieties of i\iQ\ratoegus monogyna ; it has,
 
 NOTES. IS 
 
 however, the peculiarity of blossoming first about Christmas-day, 
 O. S., and again in May, when the fruit is produced. Dr. Marton 
 conjectures, that it may have been originally introduced from the 
 east by some pilgrims. This, if true, would perhaps account not 
 only for the le2;end, but also for the circumstance of its blooming 
 at this period. 
 
 The Snail, p. 43. (1) liittle can be said of this piece, as it 
 tells its own tale ; but however disgusting the reptile may be with 
 which the charm is produced, yet when considered in connec- 
 tion with the beauties of nature, and so lovely a form under the 
 influence of superstition, it must possess some little interest. Un- 
 doubtedly, as it is rather slow in its movements, the snail generally 
 received some direction from the impatient hand of the maiden, 
 which by some unaccountable means or other would most frequently 
 form the letter uppermost in her tlioughts ; though the result of 
 her charm was not always such as would enable her to exclaim, 
 " Parcite, ab urbe venit, jam parcite carmma, Daphnis." 
 
 (2) Trail, an arbour. — Chaucer. 
 
 The Death of the Rose, p. 44. (1) The female students 
 of the delightful science of botany may not inaptly be termed Houris, 
 for like those daughters of ."Mahomed's feigned Paradise, they not 
 only watch over the lives of flowers, but after that life is past, ex- 
 tract from them their essence, to give 
 
 " The sweetness of summer, when summer is gone." 
 
 The Lady-bird, p. 47. (I; This custom is still prevalent, 
 by which a forsaken maiden laments the absence of her lover, and 
 would gladly send a messenger after him, to whisper in his ear the 
 unaltered state of her attachment. 
 
 The Cuckoo, p. 48. (i) In Sunderland, and some other parts, 
 this bird, like the robin, is regarded with a kind of awe, and the 
 countryman takes the greatest care not to kill or injure the cuckoo. 
 It is also considered an omen of death if it sings three times over a 
 cottage, or near any person ; Shakspeare thus alludes to it : — 
 " The plain-song cuckoo gray, 
 Whose notes full many a man doth mark. 
 And dares not answer, nay." 
 (2) In Norfolk there is the following saying respecting the 
 cuckoo, which contains a rude but comprehensive account of nearly 
 all that is known of its habits in this country. I had the lines 
 from a native of the county before mentioned : — 
 April the cuckoo shows his bill, 
 May the cuckoo sing night and day, 
 June the cuckoo alters his tune, 
 July away he fly, 
 August aw;^y he must. 
 I
 
 74 NOTES. 
 
 In Sussex the )4th of April is called " cuckoo day," being about 
 
 the time when that bird first appears here. 
 
 "• I deduce 
 From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, 
 The symphony of spring." — Thompson. 
 
 Nature's Melodists, p. 50. (I) It is believed by many 
 that the nightingale rests during the night, with its breast against a 
 thorn, in order that it may keep awake. It is not, however, proba- 
 ble that the Creator has imposed upon this bird the necessity of 
 bodily suffering to produce the outpourings of its melodious throat. 
 
 The Mtsteltoe, p. 51. (1) The misteltoe is a plant sacred 
 to the religion of the Druids, and was within the last half century 
 to be found in every farm-house hall or great room, beneath which 
 it was a privilege to kiss each female, from the cook-maid to the 
 mistress. But this would now be considered as vulgar, as it was by 
 the fashionable Miss Lambs of Little Britain, whose names are 
 immortalized by Washington Irving in his Sketch Book. 
 
 The Love-Knot, p. 53 (l) Vide May-day Song, p. 68, 
 note {2^. 
 
 The Royal Oak, p. 55. (1) In Sunderland it is customary, 
 on the twenty -ninth of May, for lads and their lasses to go into the 
 woods, decorated with ribbons and garlands, singing songs in honor 
 of the oak. 
 
 (2) Karle (from the Saxon ceorl) is a man ; hence our English 
 word churl. 
 
 (3) It is still usual in many parts of the country, on this day, 
 to gild the apples of the oak, and wear them in the hat, as well as 
 to plant boughs at the doors. 
 
 Midsummer's Eve, p. 57- (I) The eve of St. John is in 
 most places in England regarded with a superstitious awe ; and it 
 is at this time that various charms are performed. 
 
 (2) The village of Felsted in Essex, is situated, as is indicated 
 from its Saxon derivation, on a gentle elevation ; and the story is 
 placed here from a tale not generally known, but o btained from an 
 ancient authority. 
 
 (3) The belief of a spectral appearance of the persons who are 
 to die in the course of the year, from the church in regular order, is 
 still prevalent in many places. 
 
 (4) A maiden takes two nuts, and naming each after a suitor, 
 places them in the fire ; that which burns slowly and brightly re- 
 presents the true one, whilst the other, if it bounces and splits, 
 wLU prove false, 
 
 (5) This custom is much better known in Scotland than in 
 England. The way in which it is decided is by dipping the hand 
 blindfold into the bowls.
 
 NOTES. 75 
 
 (6) The hempseed charm is this : if a girl sows it at midnight, 
 repeating thrice, '' Hempseed I sow, let him who loves me come 
 and mow ; " or words to this effect, and then looks over her shoulder, 
 she will see her sweetheart mowing. If anything of the kind ever 
 did happen, it most probably was, that the lover had previously 
 obtained intelligence of her intentions, and voluntarily appeared 
 there, without any compulsion from the charm. 
 
 FIN' IS. 
 
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