Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne
BalladsDomestic: The Bailiffs Daughter of Islington
T
And he was a squires son;
He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
That lived in Islington.
That he did love her soe,
Noe nor at any time would she
Any countenance to him showe.
His fond and foolish minde,
They sent him up to faire London,
An apprentice for to binde.
And never his love could see,—
‘Many a teare have I shed for her sake,
When she little thought of mee.’
Went forth to sport and playe,
All but the bayliffes daughter deare;
She secretly stole awaye.
And put on ragged attire,
And to faire London she would go
Her true love to enquire.
The weather being hot and drye,
She sat her downe upon a green bank,
And her true love came riding bye.
Catching hold of his bridle-reine;
‘One penny, one penny, kind sir,’ she sayd,
‘Will ease me of much paine.’
Praye tell me where you were borne.’
‘At Islington, kind sir,’ sayd shee,
‘Where I have had many a scorne.’
O tell me, whether you knowe
The bayliffes daughter of Islington.’
‘She is dead, sir, long agoe.’
My saddle and bridle also;
For I will into some farr countrye,
Where noe man shall me knowe.’
She standeth by thy side;
She is here alive, she is not dead,
And readye to be thy bride.’
Ten thousand times therefore;
For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
Whom I thought I should never see more.’