Rural Tales, Ballads, and Songs, Robert Bloomfield [top 100 books of all time checklist txt] 📗

PREFACE.


The Poems here offered to the Public were chiefly written during the interval between the concluding and the publishing of THE FARMER'S BOY, an interval of nearly two years. The pieces of a later date are, _the Widow to her Hour-Glass, the Fakenham Ghost, Walter and Jane_, &c. At the tune of publishing the Farmer's Boy, circumstances occurred which rendered it necessary to submit these Poems to the perusal of my Friends: under whose approbation I now give them, with some confidence as to their moral merit, to the judgment of the Public. And as they treat of village manners, and rural scenes, it appears to me not ill-tim'd to avow, that I have hopes of meeting in some degree the approbation of my Country. I was not prepar'd for the decided, and I may surely say extraordinary attention which the Public has shewn towards the Farmer's Boy: the consequence has been such as my true friends will rejoice to hear; it has produc'd me many essential blessings. And I feel peculiarly gratified in finding that a poor man in England may assert the dignity of Virtue, and speak of the imperishable beauties of Nature, and be heard, and heard, perhaps, with greater attention for his being poor.

Whoever thinks of me or my concerns, must necessarily indulge the pleasing idea of gratitude, and join a thought of my first great friend Mr. LOFFT. And on this head, I believe every reader, who has himself any feeling, will judge rightly of mine: if otherwise, I would much rather he would lay down this volume, and grasp hold of such fleeting pleasures as the world's business may afford him. I speak not of that gentleman as a public character, or as a scholar. Of the former I know but little, and of the latter nothing. But I know from experience, and I glory in this fair opportunity of saying it, that his private life is a lesson of morality; his manners gentle, his heart sincere: and I regard it as one of the most fortunate circumstances of my life, that my introduction to public notice fell to so zealous and unwearied a friend.


[Footnote: I dare not take to myself a praise like this; and yet I was, perhaps, hardly at liberty to disclaim what should be mine and the endeavour of every one to deserve. This I can say, that I have reason to rejoice that Mr. _George Bloomfield_ introduced the Farmer's Boy to me. C. L.]


I have received many honourable testimonies of esteem from strangers; letters without a name, but fill'd with the most cordial advice, and almost a parental anxiety, for my safety under so great a share of public applause. I beg to refer such friends to the great teacher Time: and hope that he will hereafter give me my deserts, and no more.

One piece in this collection will inform the reader of my most pleasing visit to _Wakefield Lodge_: books, solitude, and objects entirely new, brought pleasures which memory will always cherish. That noble and worthy Family, and all my immediate and unknown Friends, will, I hope, believe the sincerity of my thanks for all their numerous favours, and candidly judge the Poems before them.

R. BLOOMFIELD.
Sept. 29, 1801.

P.S. Since affixing the above date, an event of much greater importance than any to which I have been witness, has taken place, to the universal joy (it is to be hoped) of every inhabitant of Europe. My portion of joy shall be expressed while it is warm: and the reader will do sufficient justice, if he only believes it to be sincere.

October 10.

PEACE.

Halt! ye Legions, sheathe your Steel:
Blood grows precious; shed no more:
Cease your toils; your wounds to heal
Lo! beams of Mercy reach the shore!
From Realms of everlasting light
The favour'd guest of Heaven is come:
Prostrate your Banners at the sight,
And bear the glorious tidings home.

The plunging corpse with half-clos'd eyes,
No more shall stain th' unconscious brine;
Yon pendant gay, that streaming flies,
Around its idle Staff shall twine.
Behold! along th' etherial sky
Her beams o'er conquering Navies spread;
Peace! Peace! the leaping Sailors cry,
With shouts that might arouse the dead.

Then forth Britannia's thunder pours;
A vast reiterated sound!
From Line to Line the Cannon roars,
And spreads the blazing joy around.
Return, ye brave! your Country calls;
Return; return, your task is done:
While here the tear of transport falls,
To grace your Laurels nobly won.

Albion Cliffs--from age to age,
That bear the roaring storms of Heav'n,
Did ever fiercer Warfare rage?
Was ever Peace more timely given?
Wake! sounds of Joy: rouse, generous Isle;
Let every patriot bosom glow.
Beauty, resume thy wonted smile,
And, Poverty, thy cheerful brow.

Boast, Britain, of thy glorious Guests;
Peace, Wealth, and Commerce, all thine own:
Still on contented Labour rests
The basis of a lasting Throne.
Shout, Poverty! 'tis Heaven that saves;
Protected Wealth, the chorus raise:
Ruler of War, of Winds, and Waves,
Accept a prostrate Nation's praise.



CONTENTS.

Richard and Kate: Ballad
Walter and Jane: a Tale
The Miller's Maid: a Tale
The Widow to her Hour-Glass
Market-Night: Ballad
The Fakenham Ghost: Ballad
The French Mariner: Ballad
Dolly: Ballad
A Visit to Whittlebury Forest
A Highland Drover: Song
A Word to Two Young Ladies
On hearing of the Translation of the Farmer's Boy
Nancy: Song
Rosy Hannah: Song
The Shepherd and his Dog Rover: Song
Hunting Song
Lucy: Song
Winter Song

RICHARD AND KATE: OR, FAIR-DAY.

A Suffolk Ballad.

'Come, Goody, stop your humdrum wheel,
Sweep up your orts, and get your Hat;
Old joys reviv'd once more I feel,
'Tis Fair-day;--ay, _and more than that._

_The Deliberation_.

'Have you forgot, Kate, prithee say,
'How many Seasons here we've tarry'd?
'Tis _Forty_ years, this very day,
'Since you and I, old Girl, were _married_

'Look out;--the Sun shines warm and bright,
'The Stiles are low, the paths all dry;
'I know you cut your corns last night:
'Come; be as free from care as I.

'For I'm resolv'd once more to see
'That place where we so often met;
'Though few have had more cares than we,
'We've none just now to make us fret.'

Kate scorn'd to damp the generous flame
That warm'd her aged Partner's breast;
Yet, ere determination came,
She thus some trifling doubts express'd.

_Difficulties--Consent_.

'Night will come on; when seated snug,
'And you've perhaps begun some tale,
'Can you then leave your dear stone mug;
'Leave all the folks, and all the Ale?'

'Ay, Kate, I wool;--because I know,
'Though time has been we both could run,
'Such days are gone and over now;--
'I only mean to see the fun.'

She straight slipp'd off the Wall and Band, [Terms used in spinning]
And laid aside her Lucks and Twitches:
And to the Hutch [a chest] she reach'd her hand,
And gave him out his Sunday Breeches.

His Mattock he behind the door
And Hedging-gloves again replac'd;
And look'd across the yellow Moor,
And urg'd his tott'ring Spouse to haste.

_The Walk to the Fair._

The day was up, the air serene,
The Firmament without a cloud;
The Bee humm'd o'er the level green
Where knots of trembling Cowslips bow'd.

And RICHARD thus, with heart elate,
As past things rush'd across his mind,
Over his shoulder, talk'd to KATE,
Who snug tuckt up, walk'd slow behind.

'When once a gigling Mawther you,
'And I a redfac'd chubby Boy,
'Sly tricks, you play'd me not a few;
'For mischief was your greatest joy.

'Once, passing by this very Tree,
'A Gotch [pitcher] of Milk I'd been to fill,
'You shoulder'd me; then laugh'd to see
'Me and my Gotch spin down the Hill'

_Discourse on past Days._

'Tis true,' she said; 'but here behold,
'And marvel at the course of Time;
'Though you and I are both grown old,
'This Tree is only in its prime!'

'Well, Goody, don't stand preaching now;
'Folks don't preach Sermons at a FAIR:
'We've rear'd Ten _Boys_ and _Girls_ you know;
'And I'll be bound they'll all be there.'

Now friendly nods and smiles had they,
From many a kind _Fair-going_ face:
And many a pinch KATE gave away;
While RICHARD kept his usual pace.

At length arriv'd amidst the throng,
_Grand-children_ bawling hem'd them round;
And dragg'd them by the skirts along
Where gingerbread bestrew'd the ground.

_The Arrival.--Country Sports._

And soon the aged couple spy'd
Their lusty _Sons_ and _Daughters_ dear:
When RICHARD thus exulting cried,
'Did'nt I tell you they'd be here?'

The cordial greetings of the soul
Were visible in every face;
Affection, void of all controul,
Govern'd with a resistless grace.

'Twas good to see the honest strife,
_Which_ should contribute most to please;
And hear the long-recounted life,
Of infant tricks, and happy days.

But now, as at some nobler places,
Amongst the Leaders 'twas decreed
Time to begin the DICKY RACES;
More fam'd for laughter than for speed.

_Recollections._

RICHARD look'd on with wond'rous glee,
And prais'd the Lad who ehanc'd to win;
'KATE, wan't I such a one as he?
'As like him, ay, as pin to pin?

'Full _Fifty_ years are pass'd away
'Since I rode this same ground about:
'Lord! I was lively as the day!
'I won the High-lows out and out!

'I'm surely growing young again:
'I feel myself so kedge and plump.
'From head to foot I've not one pain;
'Nay, hang me if I cou'd 'nt jump.'

Thus spoke the ALE in RICHARD'S pate,
A very little made him mellow;
But still he lov'd his faithful KATE,
Who whisper'd thus, 'My good old fellow,

_The Departure._

'Remember what you promis'd me:
'And see, the Sun is getting low;
'The Children want an hour ye see
'To talk a bit before we go.'

Like youthful Lover most complying
He turn'd, and chuckt her by the chin:
Then all across the green grass hieing,
Right merry faces, all akin,

Their farewell quart, beneath a
That droop'd its branches from above,
Awak'd the pure felicity
That waits upon PARENTAL LOVE.

KATE view'd her blooming Daughters round,
And Sons, who shook her wither'd hand;
Her features spoke what joy she found;
But utterance had made a stand.

_An old Man's Joy._

The Children toppled on the green,
And bowl'd their _fairings_ down the hill;
Richard with pride beheld the scene,
Nor could he for his life sit still.

A Father's uncheck'd feelings gave
A tenderness to all he said;
'My Boys, how proud am I to have
'My name thus round the Country spread!

'Through all my days I've labour'd hard,
'And could of pains and Crosses tell;
'But this is Labour's great reward,
'To meet ye thus, and see ye well.

'My good old Partner, when at home,
'Sometimes with wishes mingles tears;
'Goody, says I, let what wool come,
'We've nothing for them but our pray'rs.

_Old Man's Joy continued._

'May you be all as old as I,
'And see you? Sons to manhood grow;
'And, many a time before you die,
'Be just as pleas'd as I am now.'

Then, (raising still his Mug and Voice,)
'An Old Man's weakness don't despise!
'I love you well, my Girls and Boys;
'GOD bless you all;'--so