Bewick and Graham (1840s)/The Berkshire lady's garland

THE

BERKSHIRE LADY'S GARLAND.

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In Four Parts.

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PART I.

Showing Cupid's Conquest over a coy Lady of Five Thousand a-year.

PART II.

The Lady's Letter of Challenge to fight him upon refusing to wed her in a Mask, without knowing who she was.

PART III.

How they met by Appointment in a Grovo, where she obliged him to fight or wed her

PART IV.

How they rode together in her gilded Coach to her noble Seat or Castle, &c.

THE

BERKSHIRE LADY'S GARLAND.

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PART I,

Showing Cupid's Conquest over a Lady of Five Thousand a-year, &c.
Tune-"The Royal Forester."

Bachelors of every station,
Mark this strange and true relation,
Which in brief to you I bring-
Never was a stranger thing.

You shall find it worth the hearing:
Loyal lovo is most endeariug,
When it takes tho deepest root,
Yielding charms and gold to boot.

Some will wed for love of treasuro,
But tho sweetest joy and pleasuro
Is in faithful lovo, you'll find,
Graced with a noblo mind.

Such a noblo disposition,
Had this lady, with submission;
Of whom I this sonnet write,
Store of wealth and beauty bright.

Sho had left by a good grannum,
Full five thousand pounds per annum
Which she held without control;
Thus she did in riches roll.

Though she had vast steres of riches,
Which seme persens much bewitches,
Yet she bore a ceurteous mind,
Not the least te pride inclin'd.

Many neble persens courted
This yeung lady, 'tis reported,
But their lab'ring prev'd in vain,
They ceuld not her faveur gain.

Though she made such true resistance,
Yet by Cupid's truo assistance,
She was conquer'd after all,
How it was declare I shall.

Being at a neble wedding,
Near the famous tewn of Reddiug,
A young gentleman she saw,
Whe belonged te the law.

As she view'd his sweet behaviour,
Every courteeus carriage gave her
New additions te her grief;
Ferc'd she was te seek relief.

Privately she then enquir'd
About him so much admir'd,
Both his name and where he dwelt,
Such was the het flames she felt.

Then at night this yeuthful lady
Call'd her coach, which being ready,
Homeward straight she did return,
But, her heart in flames did burn.

PART II.
The Lady's Letter of a Challenge to fight him upon refusing to wed her in a mask, without knowing who she was.

Night and morning, for a season,
In her closet would she reason
With herself, and often said,
Why has love my heart betray'd?

I that have so many slighted,
Am at length so well requited,
For my griefs are not a few;
Now I find what love can do.

He that has my heart in keeping,
Though I for his sake be weeping,
Little knows what grief I feel,
But I'll try it out with steel.

For I will a challenge send him,
And appoint where I'll attend him;
In a grove without delay,
By the dawning of the day.

He shall not the least discover,
That I am a virgin lovor,
By the challenge which I send;
But for justice I contend.

He has caused sad distraction,
And I come for satisfaction,
Which if he denies to give,
One of us shall cease to live.

Having thus her mind revealed,
She her letter clos'd and sealed;
Now when it came to his hand,
The young man was at a stand.

In her letter she conjur'd him,
For to meet, and well assur'd him,
Recompence he must afford,
Or dispute it with the sword.

Having read this strange relation,
He was in a consternation:
Then advising with his friend,
He persuades him to attend.

Be of courage and make ready,
Faint heart never won fair lady,
In regard it must be so,
I along with you must go,

PART III

How they met by appointment in a grove, where she obliged him to fight or wed her.

Early on a summer’s morning,
When bright Phoebus was adorning
Every bower with its beams,
The fair lady came, it seems.

At the bottom of tho mountain,
Near a pleasant crystal fountain,
There she left her gilded coach,
While the grove she did approach.

Cover'd with her mask, and walking,
There sho met her lover talking
With a friend that he had brought;
Straight she ask'd him who he sought.

I am challeng’d by a gallant,
Who resolves to try my talent;
Who he is I cannot say.
But I hope to show him play.

It is I that did invito you,
You shall wed me, or I'll fight you,
Underneath those spreading trees,
Therefore choose you which you please.

You shall find I do not vapour,
I have brought my trusty rapier,
Therefore tako your choice, says she,
Either fight or marry me.

Said he, Madam, pray what mean you!
In my life I'vo never seen you:
Pray unmask, your visage show,
Then I'll tell you Aye or No.

I will not my face uncover
Till the marriago ties are over,
Thereforo choose you which you will,
Wed me, sir, or try your skill.

Step within that pleasant bower,
With your friend one single hour;
Strivo your thoughts to reconcile,
And I'll wander here the while.

While this charming lady waited,
Tho young bachelors debated,
What was best for to be done:
Quoth his friend, tho hazard run.

If my judgment can be trusted,
Wed her first-you can't be worsted;
If she's rich, you'll riso to fame,
If she's poor, why you're the same.

He consented to be married;
In her coach they all wero carried,
To a church without delay,
Where ho weds the lady gay.

The sweet pretty Cupids hover'd
Round her eyes, her face was cover'd
With a mask-he took her thus,
Just for better or for worse.

With a courteous kind behaviour,
Sho presents his friend a favour,
And withal dismiss'd him straight,
That he might no longer wait.

PART IV.

How they rode together in her gilded coach to her noble seat or castle, &c.

As the gilded coach stood ready,
The young lover and his lady,
Rode together till they came
To her house of state and fame.

Which appeared like a castle,
Where he might behold a parcel
Of young cedars tall and straight,
Just before her palace gate.

Hand in hand they walk'd together,
To a hall, or parlour rather,
Which was beautiful and fair
All alone she left him there.

Two long hours there he waited
Her return-at length ho fretted,
And began to grieve at last,
For he had not broke his fast.

Still he sat like one amazed,
Round a spacious room he gazed,
Which was richly beautify'd;
But, alas! he lost his brido.

Thero was peeping, laughing, sneering,
All within the lawyer's hearing;
But his bride he could not see;
Would I were at home, thought he.

While his heart was melancholy,
Said the steward, brisk and jolly,
Tell me, friend, how you came here?
You have some design, I fear.

He reply'd, dear loving master,
You shall meet with no disaster,
Through my means, in any case--
Madam brought me to this place.

Then the steward did retire,
Saying, that he would enquire,
Whether it was true or no:
Never was love hamper'd so.

Now the lady who had fill'd him
With those fears, full well beheld him
From a window, where she drest,
Pleased at the pleasant jest.

When she had herself attir'd,
In rich robes to be admir'd,
Sho appeared in his sight,
Like a moving angel bright.

Sir, my servants havo related,
How you have some hours waited
In my parlour-tell mo who
In my houso you ever knew.

Madam, if I have offended,
It is more than I intended;
A young lady brought me here--
That is true, said she, my dear.

I can be no longer cruel
To my joy and only jewel,
Thou art mine, and I am thine,
Hand and heart I do resign.

Once I was a wounded lover,
Now these fears are fairly over;
By receiving what I gave,
Thou art lord of what I have.

Beauty, honour, love, and treasuro,
A rich golden stream of pleasure,
With his lady ho enjoys;
Thanks to Cupid's kind decoys.

Now he's cloth'd in rich attire,
Not inferior to a squire,
Beauty, honour, riches, store,
What can man desire more.