PART IV.. When Over the Seas to Fair Sandwich He Came,

When over the seas to fair Sandwich he came, With Ruth, and a number of persons of fame, Then all did appear most splendid and gay, As if it had been a great festival day.

Now, when that they took up their lodgings, behold! He stripped off his coat of embroiderèd gold, And presently borrows a mariner’s suit, That he with her parents might have some dispute,

Before they were sensible he was so great; And when he came in and knocked at the gate, He soon saw her father, and mother likewise, Expressing their sorrow with tears in their eyes,

To them, with obeisance, he modestly said, ‘Pray where is my jewel, that innocent maid, Whose sweet lovely beauty doth thousands excel? I fear, by your weeping, that all is not well!’

‘No, no! she is gone, she is utterly lost; We have not heard of her a twelvemonth at most! Which makes us distracted with sorrow and care, And drowns us in tears at the point of despair.’

‘I’m grievèd to hear these sad tidings,’ he cried. ‘Alas! honest young man,’ her father replied, ‘I heartily wish she’d been wedded to you, For then we this sorrow had never gone through.’

Sweet Henry he made them this answer again; ‘I am newly come home from the kingdom of Spain, From whence I have brought me a beautiful bride, And am to be married to-morrow,’ he cried;

‘And if you will go to my wedding,’ said he, ‘Both you and your lady right welcome shall be.’ They promised they would, and accordingly came, Not thinking to meet with such persons of fame.

All decked with their jewels of rubies and pearls, As equal companions of lords and of earls, Fair Ruth, with her love, was as gay as the rest, So they in their marriage were happily blessed.

Now, as they returned from the church to an inn, The father and mother of Ruth did begin Their daughter to know, by a mole they behold, Although she was clothed in a garment of gold.

With transports of joy they flew to the bride, ‘O! where hast thou been, sweetest daughter?’ they cried, ‘Thy tedious absence has grievèd us sore, As fearing, alas! we should see thee no more.’

‘Dear parents,’ said she, ‘many hazards I run, To fetch home my love, and your dutiful son; Receive him with joy, for ’tis very well known, He seeks not your wealth, he’s enough of his own.’

Her father replied, and he merrily smiled, ‘He’s brought home enough, as he’s brought home my child; A thousand times welcome you are, I declare, Whose presence disperses both sorrow and care.’

Full seven long days in feasting they spent; The bells in the steeple they merrily went, And many fair pounds were bestowed on the poor,— The like of this wedding was never before!

THE BERKSHIRE LADY’S GARLAND.

IN FOUR PARTS.

To the tune of The Royal Forester.