The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 44 : Then followed him the Lark, For he could sweetly sing, And he was to be clerk At c.o.c.

Then followed him the Lark, For he could sweetly sing, And he was to be clerk At c.o.c.k Robin's wedding.

He sang of Robin's love For little Jenny Wren; And when he came unto the end, Then he began again.

Then came the bride and bridegroom; Quite plainly was she dressed, And blushed so much, her cheeks were As red as Robin's breast.

But Robin cheered her up; "My pretty Jen," said he, "We're going to be married And happy we shall be."

The Goldfinch came on next, To give away the bride; The Linnet, being bride's maid, Walked by Jenny's side; And, as she was a-walking, She said, "Upon my word, I think that your c.o.c.k Robin Is a very pretty bird."

The Bulfinch walked by Robin, And thus to him did say, "Pray, mark, friend Robin Redbreast, That Goldfinch, dressed so gay; What though her gay apparel Becomes her very well, Yet Jenny's modest dress and look Must bear away the bell."

The Blackbird and the Thrush, And charming Nightingale, Whose sweet jug sweetly echoes Through every grove and dale; The Sparrow and Tom t.i.t, And many more, were there: All came to see the wedding Of Jenny Wren, the fair.

"O then," says Parson Rook, "Who gives this maid away?"

"I do," says the Goldfinch, "And her fortune I will pay: Here's a bag of grain of many sorts, And other things beside; Now happy be the bridegroom, And happy be the bride!"

"And will you have her, Robin, To be your wedded wife?"

"Yes, I will," says Robin, "And love her all my life."

"And will you have him, Jenny, Your husband now to be?"

"Yes, I will," says Jenny, "And love him heartily."

Then on her finger fair c.o.c.k Robin put the ring; "You're married now," says Parson Rook, While the Lark aloud did sing: "Happy be the bridegroom, And happy be the bride!

And may not man, nor bird, nor beast, This happy pair divide."

The birds were asked to dine; Not Jenny's friends alone, But every pretty songster That had c.o.c.k Robin known.

They had a cherry pie, Beside some currant wine, And every guest brought something, That sumptuous they might dine.

Now they all sat or stood To eat and to drink; And every one said what He happened to think: They each took a b.u.mper, And drank to the pair: c.o.c.k Robin, the bridegroom, And Jenny Wren, the fair.

The dinner-things removed, They all began to sing; And soon they made the place Near a mile round to ring.

The concert it was fine; And every bird tried Who best could sing for Robin And Jenny Wren, the bride.

Then in came the Cuckoo and made a great rout; He caught hold of Jenny and pulled her about.

c.o.c.k Robin was angry, and so was the Sparrow, Who fetched in a hurry his bow and his arrow.

His aim then he took, but he took it not right; His skill was not good, or he shot in a fright; For the Cuckoo he missed, but c.o.c.k Robin killed!-- And all the birds mourned that his blood was so spilled.

Unknown

THE BABES IN THE WOOD

Now ponder well, you parents dear, These words, which I shall write; A doleful story you shall hear, In time brought forth to light.

A gentleman of good account In Norfolk dwelt of late, Who did in honor far surmount Most men of his estate.

Sore sick was he, and like to die, No help his life could save; His wife by him as sick did lie, And both possessed one grave.

No love between these two was lost, Each was to other kind; In love they lived, in loved they died, And left two babes behind:

The one a fine and pretty boy, Not pa.s.sing three years old; The other a girl more young than he, And framed in beauty's mold.

The father left his little son, As plainly does appear, When he to perfect age should come, Three hundred pounds a year.

And to his little daughter Jane Five hundred pounds in gold, To be paid down on marriage-day, Which might not be controlled: But if the children chance to die, Ere they to age should come, Their uncle should possess their wealth; For so the will did run.

"Now, brother," said the dying man, "Look to my children dear; Be good unto my boy and girl, No friends else have they here: To G.o.d and you I recommend My children dear this day; But little while be sure we have Within this world to stay.

"You must be father and mother both, And uncle all in one; G.o.d knows what will become of them, When I am dead and gone."

With that bespake their mother dear, "O brother kind," quoth she, "You are the man must bring our babes To wealth or misery.

"And if you keep them carefully Then G.o.d will you reward; But if you otherwise should deal, G.o.d will your deeds regard."

With lips as cold as any stone, They kissed their children small: "G.o.d bless you both, my children dear;"

With that the tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spake To this sick couple there, "The keeping of your little ones, Sweet sister, do not fear; G.o.d never prosper me nor mine, Nor aught else that I have, If I do wrong your children dear, When you are laid in grave."

The parents being dead and gone, The children home he takes, And brings them straight into his house, Where much of them he makes.

He had not kept these pretty babes A twelvemonth and a day, But, for their wealth, he did devise To make them both away.

He bargained with two ruffians strong, Which were of furious mood, That they should take these children young, And slay them in a wood.

He told his wife an artful tale, He would the children send To be brought up in fair London, With one that was his friend.

Away then went these pretty babes, Rejoicing at that tide, Rejoicing with a merry mind, They should on c.o.c.k-horse ride.

They prate and prattle pleasantly, As they rode on the way, To those that should their butchers be, And work their lives' decay:

So that the pretty speech they had, Made Murder's heart relent; And they that undertook the deed, Full sore did now repent.

Yet one of them more hard of heart, Did vow to do his charge, Because the wretch that hired him, Had paid him very large.

The other won't agree thereto, So here they fall to strife; With one another they did fight, About the children's life: And he that was of mildest mood, Did slay the other there, Within an unfrequented wood; The babes did quake for fear!

He took the children by the hand, Tears standing in their eye, And bade them straightway follow him, And look they did not cry: And two long miles he led them on, While they for food complain: "Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread, When I come back again."

These pretty babes, with hand in hand, Went wandering up and down, But never more could see the man Approaching from the town; Their pretty lips with black-berries Were all besmeared and dyed, And, when they saw the darksome night, They sat them down and cried.

Thus wandered these poor innocents, Till death did end their grief; In one another's arms they died, As wanting due relief: No burial this pretty pair Of any man receives, Till Robin-red-breast piously Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of G.o.d Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, His conscience felt an h.e.l.l: His barns were fired, his goods consumed, His lands were barren made, His cattle died within the field, And nothing with him stayed.

And in a voyage to Portugal Two of his sons did die; And, to conclude, himself was brought To want and misery: He p.a.w.ned and mortgaged all his land Ere seven years came about, And now at length his wicked act Did by this means come out:

The fellow, that did take in hand These children for to kill, Was for a robbery judged to die, Such was G.o.d's blessed will: Who did confess the very truth As here hath been displayed: Their uncle having died in jail, Where he for debt was laid.

You that executors be made, And overseers eke Of children that be fatherless, And infants mild and meek; Take you example by this thing, And yield to each his right, Lest G.o.d with such like misery Your wicked minds requite.

Unknown

G.o.d'S JUDGMENT ON A WICKED BISHOP