Page:Oxfordshire tragedy, or, The virgin's advice (2).pdf/7

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Winter and summer on this grave,
may the damask rose in bloom spring here,
Never to wither though ’tis cropp’d,
but when thy hand doth touch the same,
Then may the bloom that minute blast,
to bring to light my bitter shame.

More she’d have said but with his sword,
he pierc’d he tender body through,
Then threw her in her silent grave,
saying, now there’s an end of you,
He fill’d the grave up close again,
with weeds the same did overspread;
Then unconcern’d he straight went home,
immediately went to his bed.

Her parent’s dear did grieve full sore,
the loss of their young daughter fair
Thinking that she was stole away,
unto all their riches she was heir.
Twelve months ago this thing was done,
there’s thousands for a truth to know;
According as she did desire,
on her grave a damask rose did grow.

And many wonder’d at the same,
for in the winter it did spring,
If any one would crop the rose,
in a moment it would grow again.
The thing blaz’d the country round,
and thousands went the same to see,
This miracle from heaven shew,
he among’st the rest must curious be,