THE
OXFORDSHIRE TRAGEDY.
PART I.
Young virgins fair, of beauty bright,
And you that are of Cupid's fold,
Unto my tragedy draw near,
For it's as true as ever was told.
In Oxford liv'd a lady fair,
The daughter of a worthy knight,
A gentleman that lived near,
Was enamoured with her beauty bright.
Rosanna was this maiden's name,
The flower of fair Oxfordshire
This gentleman a-courting came,
Begging her to be his dear.
Her youthful heart to love inclin'd,
Young Cupid bent his golden bow,
And left his golden dart behind,
Which proved Rosanna's overthrow.
Within the private groves they'd walk,
And valleys where the lambs do play,
Sweet pleasant tales of love they'd talk,
For to pass away the summer's day.
My charming lovely Rose, said he,
See how the pleasant flowers spring,
The pretty birds on every tree,
With melody the groves do ring.
